This morning Hubby and I headed off to the doctor. It was a scheduled appointment, which meant I spent the past 4 days freaking out silently, and this morning at the mercy of my body turning my bowl to liquid acid. While trying not to cry at the thought of getting into the car. 2 Pepto pills later I put on my shoes waiting for the pills to work their magic.
Hubby munched on a bagel calmly reassuring me we'd be fine. We had an entire hour set aside to travel 15 minuted up the road. We'd be fine.
His bagel done and another two runs upstairs to the bathroom, I walked out of the apartment. My heart pounded, chest felt tight, and I had to force myself to take long deep breaths.
One of the hardest things I ever do is get into the car.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love being in the mall. Shopping. Craft stores. Seeing my family. Eating at a restaurant. LOVE.
Being in the car is one of the most horrific forms of torture I could think of for me.
I hate it.
I hate it.
I hate it.
It dosen't even matter if at the end of the car trip I get out at horse farm to go riding. (My favorite things to do ever!)
The car ride is pure torture.
And if it's raining and the windshield wipers are going? Forget about it.
I remember in middle school I started having nervous issued riding in the car. But we were a family of 7 (5 kids) and 4 of the 5 of us played sports, and that meant traveling everywhere. I dealt.
It was a bit worse in high school, especially school trips. (I was in choir, woman's choir, show choir, NJROTC, and drama club.) I spent about a hour in the bathroom emptying my bowels, didn't drink anything for hours (so I didn't have to potty), read a book and dealt with it. My senior year, one of my friends in choir noticed how sick I got while on the bus and he took it upon himself to focus me on something else entirely for the trip. (Bless him.)
It got so bad in high school that I'd think of every little excuse to avoid riding the bus (to and from school). Everything. Until my senior year (that's when my oldest brother started high school). I tried to set a good example and ride the damned bus at least every morning. After school I got rides to after school activities and then home. I dealt with being in the car. Barely. But it was better than the bus!
Then college.
Ohhhh college.
I met my Hubby back then. I walked most everywhere cause I didn't own a car. But he did and he loved to drive. I was okay one I made it clear to him that I had what I called a 'sensitive tummy'. Which meant if I needed to go potty then he needed to find a bathroom and fast. I made it as low key and easy on him as possible. The only really bad thing that ever happened and freaked him out; was during a rainstorm, at a stoplight the windshield wipers were on and something just clicked in my brain and I freaked. Begging him to turn them off and putting my head on my knees, I was sobbing.
No idea why and it hasn't happened like that since.
Needless to say the damage was done.
Luckily my few close friends ( 2 total ) understood that if I needed them to pull over so I could go to the bathroom, they pull over. It didn't matter where. A gas station, a store, the woods, a field, a pastor's yard. (True story.)
Most if the time it was just pee. Then it evolved. I had to poop. Fine. I pooped. Then somewhere during the 1st and 3rd stop to anywhere it evolved to diarrhea. No fun, not fun, and where the hell is it all coming from? Then it evolved again to liquid acid. Soooo nasty. So painful. So frustrating!
We dealt with it. If I needed to go. I went. We'd find a place. I go. I remember vividly squatting in the woods in 30 degree weather with a bear-hold on a tree trunk at 2am on our way to drop a friend off at home. I was so angry at myself and confused.
This went on for years.
I always carried a roll of toilet paper with me in the car. It was a lesson from my Daddy when I was little. Now there was at least 2 rolls in the car. 4 changes of panties, a pair of socks, a change of shoes, and usually 2 different pants. Not that I've ever had an accident, but I'm terrified that I will. I also have a pink bag dubbed the 'medicine bag' that carries a bottle of Pepto pills, Tums, Tynol, a snack, bottle of water, more panties and socks and a couple of plastic grocery bags balled up. Just in case.
A couple years ago I had a riding accident. I was on a green trail horse, on a training ride. The lead horse (also a green horse) spooked and every other horse on the ride spooked. (All green. Idiot farm owner.) Well my horse reared and freaked out. I eventually calmed her and as soon as she settled the saddle girth broke. What the fuck? Yeah. Freak accident. I fell over five feet, landing on my left elbow. It was dislocated and one of the lower arm bones fractured.
Getting to the doctor and physical therapy became a huge thing. I was so nervous. Liquid acid all the way. Hubby trying to be understanding and supportive. It was taking a toll on him, I could see it.
A year or two passed. I hardly left the apartment. If I did it was to go grocery shopping or meet Daddy at the movies.
Then I fell down the entire flight of stairs. My left knee gave out (my good knee!).
I stayed inside and healed up for a couple of months.
Then I wanted to go out with Hubby. I took a step out of the apartment and intense panic started. I couldn't breath and I was shaking. It was horrid. We wrote it off because I was inside for so long. Needless to say the car ride turned from hating it to pure torture.
It became a even bigger huge thing.
Hubby seemed like he resented me even being in the car. It stressed him out when everything was closed in the middle of the city and there was no bathroom. He hated that I had no control. He never said anything mean either, but I could tell. No matter how supportive he was, when I was in the car with him he was stressed. It wasn't fun for either of us. It became downright hellish. I couldn't just get up and go anywhere. I needed to know days beforehand and even then it was iffy if I could actually sit in the car.
2 hour trip to go to Disney/ Fantasy Conventions/the airport to pick someone up? What the hell? NO!
Hour trip to visit my family? No.
Half hour trip to visit my baby sister? Nope.
20 minute trip to go to the good bookstore? No.
15 minute trip to go to the doctor? For me? Hell no. For hubby? I will do whatever it takes for Hubby.
10 minute trip to the mall? Not even.
5 minute trip to the gas station? Newp.
Walk outside to see friends to their car? No.
It breaks my heart that I can't even pop over to see my baby sister. I've tried. I've really tried.
What's worse is that I haven't even told my family. I did mention to my baby brother that I've been having panic attacks, but that was it. He was picking me up and I needed to give him a heads up in case I freaked. I don't know how to tell them. Not really.
I'm afraid that they'll tell me to suck it up.
I've tried to. I really have.
We always spoke about physical illness, no problems. But not mental illness. My Grandma on my Daddy's side had Alzheimer's. We all knew it, but never really talked about it. I'm not ashamed. I'm scared.
I think the most deep seeded fear is that I'm going to end up like my Grandma.
I was prescribed 2 different meds today. One is for situational panics.Lorazepam in it's smallest dosage. I took my Father-in-laws a few year ago when we were visiting out of state. It helped. A LOT. The other is a pill that I get to take every day. Citalopram. It apparently takes a couple weeks to start working, cause the meds have to build up in my system, but the Doctor says that once it starts working I shouldn't even need the Lorazepam. There shouldn't be any side effects, except maybe sleepiness, but I get to take it at night. I even got to talk to the pharmacist like a big girl.
I'm scared that this is going to change me. I LIKE who I am. I've made Hubby promise that if he notices a personality change of any sort that he'll take me right back to the Doctor and I get taken off the meds. I want to be 'normalish' again. I want to go on trips, and pop in for visits just cause, and swing out to a restaurant at the drop of a hat. Actually talking to the Doctor today was supremely difficult.
It's been several hours now and I keep crying on and off, which is kinda silly, cause I haven't taken anything yet.
On another yet related note. Hubby also had a Dr appointment. He's been ordered to get more bloodwork done. The Dr thinks he might have the beginnings of rheumatoid arthritis. Oh also he gets to go have a Cat Scan. Poor guy dosen't get treated till then find out what's wrong. He stressed about it big time.
We both agreed over a Burger King Whooper, that I'd rather have his problems and he'd rather have mine.
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| My Hubby and I on our Wedding Day |
Oh also, don't be mislead by this photo of me. I'm much heavier now. I'm working on getting back down to this size.
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Breakfast today was some fries and a Whopper Jr.
Lunch
Dinner will be butter chicken on a bed of spinach with croutons.
I'll workout later tonight, at my normal time.
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