I went and saw my PCP (primary care physician) today. He said he can write my prescriptions and handle my "pain management" for me. Because nothing can be done that's all that IS done. I know there's no miracle breakthrough, trust me, I KNOW there's no miracle coming, but all I want is for someone to listen and UNDERSTAND me when I bitch about my spine feeling like it's a corkscrew driving down my back.
I also had something else to talk to my doctor about.
Wednesday night Norm and I were getting ready to head to bed, I was going through my wallet to see how much cash I had when I was able to tell Norm "I feel a panic attack coming on". That's it. I went down. I don't remember anything after that. Norm had his back to me and the way he tells it is he heard a THUMP, turned around and saw me flat on the floor, my eyes rolled back into my head, arms over my head, money clutched in both hands. He laughed about it later and said he should have taken a picture (supportive husband, I know, haha) but at the time he said he was freaked out. I guess it took about 30 seconds for him to shake me awake. I felt kind of weak and fuzzy the rest of the night and in the morning but nothing major. However I was glad that I already had the doctors appointment made.
So, the verdict?
I need to grieve.
I've had four panic attacks and they have all been during something extremely emotional. My first one was at group grief counseling after I yelled at the 12 year old "counselor" who had never lost anyone close to him but somehow found himself qualified to lead a grief group. The second one was at the U2 concert. 'Nuff said. The third one was during one of Norm's work meeting dinners while we were in Boise and I wore my shoes that I wanted to badly to show sissy. This last one, well, I had a hard time pinning that one down but I thought about it and earlier in the night Valentina had talked a lot about sissy while I was putting her to bed and mom had told me she and papa were going to be gone this weekend. Bam! Double whammy.
So there you have it. Because I internalize things and I can only handle so much before breaking, it's coming out in physical ways. My doctor said I need to talk, think and work with my grief instead of pushing it to the side, trying with all my might that it's not real, that this didn't really happen. I had printed up some new pictures of sissy and me to put in my frames before Asa's birthday party but it's like I didn't SEE them. I saw them but didn't LOOK at them, I couldn't let myself look at them or remember how much fun we were having in the picture. McSoccer (my PCP, he used to coach his sons' soccer teams and always asks how Asa is doing in soccer so that's his name now) told me that I already have two strikes against me, my pain and my bipolar. If I don't work on this in about 5 years it will catch up to me and I'll end up in the loony bin.
But I don't wanna deal with it! (I always think of how Seinfeld whined "but I don't wanna be a pirate!). Like mom says though, "how's it working for you to not deal with it?"
Step one. Start seeing my therapist again. It's been over a year since the last time I saw him. I quit going because I didn't want to cry and deal with things and when you're in therapy you can't really avoid things. See? I avoid.
Avoiding isn't working. So I will start seeing my therapist.
I still don't wanna deal with it. But I will for the kids because even more than I don't wanna deal with it, I don't wanna end up in a loony bin.
So I will start to grieve.