Am I making something out of nothing? Yeah, probably. That's right, I KNOW that. It's just I can't see past it. This break pretty all around sucked. Yes I had some good times with friends with friends and family but most of it wasn't much at all. It was just basically crying and worrying. I can't remember the last time my stomach wasn't in a knot. I always have something to dwell over on my mind. School, future, past, parents, anything. I just am so fucked up right now. Nothing makes it better, and I don't think anything can make it better. I try to just relax and be me and do the things I want to do but the world doesn't permit me that pleasure. What makes it even worse is my mother. When I think I can get away from all my thoughts and worries at dinner when we're at the table or late at night when we watch TV together I realize how wrong I am. Anytime she opens her mouth its just to stress me out more. Always asking about school and all my work for it, there's more but that's the biggest thing. How come my mom has to care about that? I stress myself out enough myself with it I don't need her jumping down my throat. She doesn't care about anything else in my life why does school matter so much? Why is it all she has to talk about with me?
God she makes me so angry! She always complains that I don't tell her enough. You know what, I don't tell her a lot but that's no one's fault but her own. If it's something I want to tell her and just go right out and say it, she hardly listens. She'll smile and nod and then in a millisecond go to a topic she wants to talk about. If it's something I'm not sure if I should tell her or not but finally work up the courage to tell her she gets so involved or over-reactive. I always regret telling her the things that I question before saying, it always ends up in a fight. Why should I tell her anything with those reactions?
Wow, I've been in this funk for about two weeks now. NEW RECORD!!!! The funny thing is it skipped over its usual time and started when I should be fine and has just become never ending. I'm not looking forward to this weekend. But then again, who the hell knows? Maybe I'll be all perky this time, I have a feeling I'll just be worse this time around though. Why can't I get out of it this time? I'm kind of longing for that cycle right now. At least then I would have a few days of peace between these awful depressions. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Where am I going? What am I doing? What's the point? God I'm so confused and lost. "Life just sucks...I'm giving up........Fuck this place."
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
God, this sucks
Here I am again, as I always am. I talked to my brother the other day, online, about this and now I'm even more confused and more emotionally imbalanced. At first he made me feel like I could go to my parents but I just don't believe that anymore. I've been through this with them before and they are sooooo harmful! Well, mostly my dad is just super worried and confused and just doesn't know what to do so doesn't really say anything exactly helpful or harmful. My mom is a whole other story though. She gets sooooo involved! I've gone to her before in tears and she doesn't, usually, suggest, "let's get someone to help you" it's always, "I'm going to make you better." No, she doesn't literally say that but that what she tries to do. Whenever I tell her about all the things that I hate about my life, am terrified about for the future, or just can't stand anymore she just tells me the same crap she always does. She thinks saying these things over and over again will work but it sure as hell doesn't. And after these instances became more frequent she just seemed fed up withe them. Like she just wants me to shut up and deal with it and leave her out of it.
I'm convinced this will happen all over again. I'm also convinced they know what's going on with me right now and are refusing to address it or just plain don't care about it. I've been blasting music and singing along in tears frequently, I noisily cry myself to sleep almost every night in my bedroom, I hardly say anything to them anymore, I mean how oblivious can people be?! I think they figure that if I don't want to come to them about it then its not worth discussing, or maybe its just easier to let me do this on my own. I don't want to talk to them. I don't want to have their annoyed and/or overprotective reactions. And if they don't fucking care, fine screw them!
Oh yeah and then something my brother told me really sent me reeling. As I said he's depressed lately. Well the other night he called us and we was totally crazed. I hadn't talked to him but my parents were and they apparently were scared for his life. My dad had to go to his house and my mom constantly had him on the phone. I was an absolute wreck that night but whenever my mom got the chance she'd tell me to stop crying he's just overreacting and blowing it all out of proportion, it's ok. At one point during the night my mom asked if he wanted to speak to me. I didn't want to, I was sobbing like mad and I had absolutely no idea what to say to him. I had no choice in the matter though because she handed me the phone anyway. I was basically crying into the phone the whole god damn time with little things in between. So as we were talking the other night and I got into all that I've been seeing/feeling/thinking he tells me something. He said that when he heard how upset I was on the phone that night it was the only thing that kept him from doing what he was going to do. WHAT THE FUCK?! I was perfectly fine with my understanding of the situation prior to this: he was upset but we all talked him through it and he's getting help. I mean, by the things he said to me on the phone I always thought I helped more and might have prevented something but I was just putting that off as ego. I DIDN'T HAVE TO KNOW HE WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO DO SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!!! I started sobbing like mad when he sad that. It hurt so much to know that he was actually planning on doing something. I was so mad, confused, hurt, basically everything except for the happy-like emotions.
So now I'm even more fucked up then I was before. I just don't see the point anymore. I've talked of the thoughts of suicides before, but whenever I have them I realize I would never do them. I am too much of a coward. I couldn't do it to myself, I just want it to be done to me. I told my brother that too and he said that its a good thing to be cowardly in this situation. That really got me thinking. Why? Why the hell is it such a god damn good thing? What the hell does life have to offer me? What the hell does it all mean in the end anyway? What is so important about life that it is necessary to go through all this torturous hell? I try to look ahead to my future and I really don't see anything. I can't imagine myself happy in anything. I can't see myself going through college well. I can't see myself enjoying any kind of work I might come into. I can't see myself finding love because no one in the world who could possibly understand my fucked up self or want to deal with me. What the hell do we even go through all of this? We act like everything in our lives is so fucking important but how could it be? We're all going to reach the same end and when we get there none of this is going to mean anything. So tell me, what the fuck's the point? What the fuck is so important?
I really don't want to go to a psychologist again either. I've had three already and they did basically nothing for me. The first one I had when I was in the hospital and I absolutely hated her. She was so into herself and was constantly judging me. The next one I went to I liked but the whole thing died fast. I talked to her about things the first few times but then I just didn't feel like there was anything to say. It's not that I didn't have problems anymore, its just that I couldn't think of things to say when I was there or couldn't find a way to open up to her. The last guy I had I hated, though not as much as my first one. The only reason I stayed with him as long as I did was becasue he had a therapy dog with him. The days when he didn't have his dog were awful. I don't really know what it was, he just never seemed to help with anything I wanted him to help me with. Then he was really judgmental as well. Its so awful that you have to go through all this shit to get help. Another reason why I don't want to see a psychologist is a problem I've had since the beginning: I don't want to talk to a fucking stranger about the inner workings of my screwed up mind. Who are they to know? To care? How can they know what to do? Why should I listen to them anyway?
Err I'm just really mad right now. I'm not sure if this writing things out is helping or not yet. I still feel like breaking everything in my sight. (That's a weird side effect I have with all of this) God my life is a fucking waste.
I'm convinced this will happen all over again. I'm also convinced they know what's going on with me right now and are refusing to address it or just plain don't care about it. I've been blasting music and singing along in tears frequently, I noisily cry myself to sleep almost every night in my bedroom, I hardly say anything to them anymore, I mean how oblivious can people be?! I think they figure that if I don't want to come to them about it then its not worth discussing, or maybe its just easier to let me do this on my own. I don't want to talk to them. I don't want to have their annoyed and/or overprotective reactions. And if they don't fucking care, fine screw them!
Oh yeah and then something my brother told me really sent me reeling. As I said he's depressed lately. Well the other night he called us and we was totally crazed. I hadn't talked to him but my parents were and they apparently were scared for his life. My dad had to go to his house and my mom constantly had him on the phone. I was an absolute wreck that night but whenever my mom got the chance she'd tell me to stop crying he's just overreacting and blowing it all out of proportion, it's ok. At one point during the night my mom asked if he wanted to speak to me. I didn't want to, I was sobbing like mad and I had absolutely no idea what to say to him. I had no choice in the matter though because she handed me the phone anyway. I was basically crying into the phone the whole god damn time with little things in between. So as we were talking the other night and I got into all that I've been seeing/feeling/thinking he tells me something. He said that when he heard how upset I was on the phone that night it was the only thing that kept him from doing what he was going to do. WHAT THE FUCK?! I was perfectly fine with my understanding of the situation prior to this: he was upset but we all talked him through it and he's getting help. I mean, by the things he said to me on the phone I always thought I helped more and might have prevented something but I was just putting that off as ego. I DIDN'T HAVE TO KNOW HE WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO DO SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!!! I started sobbing like mad when he sad that. It hurt so much to know that he was actually planning on doing something. I was so mad, confused, hurt, basically everything except for the happy-like emotions.
So now I'm even more fucked up then I was before. I just don't see the point anymore. I've talked of the thoughts of suicides before, but whenever I have them I realize I would never do them. I am too much of a coward. I couldn't do it to myself, I just want it to be done to me. I told my brother that too and he said that its a good thing to be cowardly in this situation. That really got me thinking. Why? Why the hell is it such a god damn good thing? What the hell does life have to offer me? What the hell does it all mean in the end anyway? What is so important about life that it is necessary to go through all this torturous hell? I try to look ahead to my future and I really don't see anything. I can't imagine myself happy in anything. I can't see myself going through college well. I can't see myself enjoying any kind of work I might come into. I can't see myself finding love because no one in the world who could possibly understand my fucked up self or want to deal with me. What the hell do we even go through all of this? We act like everything in our lives is so fucking important but how could it be? We're all going to reach the same end and when we get there none of this is going to mean anything. So tell me, what the fuck's the point? What the fuck is so important?
I really don't want to go to a psychologist again either. I've had three already and they did basically nothing for me. The first one I had when I was in the hospital and I absolutely hated her. She was so into herself and was constantly judging me. The next one I went to I liked but the whole thing died fast. I talked to her about things the first few times but then I just didn't feel like there was anything to say. It's not that I didn't have problems anymore, its just that I couldn't think of things to say when I was there or couldn't find a way to open up to her. The last guy I had I hated, though not as much as my first one. The only reason I stayed with him as long as I did was becasue he had a therapy dog with him. The days when he didn't have his dog were awful. I don't really know what it was, he just never seemed to help with anything I wanted him to help me with. Then he was really judgmental as well. Its so awful that you have to go through all this shit to get help. Another reason why I don't want to see a psychologist is a problem I've had since the beginning: I don't want to talk to a fucking stranger about the inner workings of my screwed up mind. Who are they to know? To care? How can they know what to do? Why should I listen to them anyway?
Err I'm just really mad right now. I'm not sure if this writing things out is helping or not yet. I still feel like breaking everything in my sight. (That's a weird side effect I have with all of this) God my life is a fucking waste.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I'M A FUCKING IDIOT!!
I just put my best friend through hell today! She means so much to me and I put her through so much! All that talk of not putting my friends through my stupid troubles and I go and do this! What the fuck was I thinking?! I went through this with my brother, how the hell could I even tink of inflicting the same pain on her?! She's done nothing but good for me and this is the tahnks I give her?! I'm such a rotten, lousy, good-for-nothing asshole! I never wanted her to know about these things! I just wanted to keep the inner working of my fucked up mind to myself! I was only ever writing it here or anywhere else as a release! Why the hell would I go and do something like this?! What the fuck was I thinking?! I can't believe I did this to her! I'm such a jackass! I can't stop thinking about it! Oh Christ, what the hell am I doing??????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, April 13, 2009
Eh bleh bleh
Today was an ok day. We did something which prevented the depressing thoughts, but it wasn't exactly a great time. First of all, my dog annoyed me today when I was trying to record a song to my mp3 player and she started barking in the middle of the song, twice! I had to do it 3 times before I got it good. Secondly, we didn't go out until 6:30 so I was forced to go through the meaningless computer, music, TV, guitar (I can't even bring myself to write anymore of my fiction stuff yet) routine and I almost got overwhelmed, but luckily I was able to break it up between them all enough so that I avoided that. Then my mom and I went over to my grandparents' house to play cards with them and my aunt. Thought it was going to be good, but not so much.
We were having fun playing, talking, and laughing and then my mom got snippy. We were playing four handed Pinochle and I was parterned with my aunt and my mom was with my grandfather (my grandmother decided to sit out). My aunt and I needed to make my mom and my grandfather go up in order to stay in the game so we were making little jokes as my mom was dealing like, "even if you have something don't bid" "we're gonna put you up". We always do things like this and its never out of meaness or spite, just a little humor. Well niether my aunt nor I had anything worth anything in our hands so we passed and then my mother and grandfather went up. We were happy, it meant they didn't beat us. Then we won the next hand by a lot and my mom was really mad at me for making those jokes before. She said I was a sore winner and that me and my aunt were playing like cut throats. We repeatedly told her that we had nothing in our hands to bid with and hardly had any meld together but she still insisted on the two things she said before.
I was getting out of my depression for the day, but that certainly ruined it. She made me so mad because she was acting like a complete child. We were just joking and she acted like it was the end of the world. I got really mad and hardly said anything the rest of the night. The only time I said anything was when I was directly spoken to and even then I gave an unemotional and curt answer. I really didn't care much about anything after that. Alright, maybe that was also a childish way to act but I really had no control over it. It's just this stupid state I'm in right now playing horrible emotional games on my mind, spirit, and body.
Well tomorrow I have stuff planned. Well, half of them are plans. First I have my stinkin' allergy shots at 1:15, at least I can listen to Goo which is the only that saves me for that 30 minutes, and then guitar at 3:30 which is always enjoyable. More Goo too, becaause he said he's gonna teach me Iris this week. He said we'd do it last week but he didn't have time to learn it so he promised me for this week. That will keep me occupied until 4:30 but I don't know what I'm going to do with myself after that, I predict a tearful evening.
Wednesday I'm heading into PA to check out colleges. I'm not really looking forward to the trip but at least it gets me out of the house and gets my mind on something else. We're really not going to do much there anyway, just drive around the campuses so it's probably not going to be too horrible. Though I do dread the long car ride.
Thursday I have friends coming over for a day of Goospeare! That I'm REALLY looking forward to. The rest of the break, I really have no idea what's going on. I'll most likely post something from here day to day either ranting about the horribly depressing my day was (most likely) or raving about how fantastic it was (probably only Goospeare), and no I don't think there is an in between. Sigh.
We were having fun playing, talking, and laughing and then my mom got snippy. We were playing four handed Pinochle and I was parterned with my aunt and my mom was with my grandfather (my grandmother decided to sit out). My aunt and I needed to make my mom and my grandfather go up in order to stay in the game so we were making little jokes as my mom was dealing like, "even if you have something don't bid" "we're gonna put you up". We always do things like this and its never out of meaness or spite, just a little humor. Well niether my aunt nor I had anything worth anything in our hands so we passed and then my mother and grandfather went up. We were happy, it meant they didn't beat us. Then we won the next hand by a lot and my mom was really mad at me for making those jokes before. She said I was a sore winner and that me and my aunt were playing like cut throats. We repeatedly told her that we had nothing in our hands to bid with and hardly had any meld together but she still insisted on the two things she said before.
I was getting out of my depression for the day, but that certainly ruined it. She made me so mad because she was acting like a complete child. We were just joking and she acted like it was the end of the world. I got really mad and hardly said anything the rest of the night. The only time I said anything was when I was directly spoken to and even then I gave an unemotional and curt answer. I really didn't care much about anything after that. Alright, maybe that was also a childish way to act but I really had no control over it. It's just this stupid state I'm in right now playing horrible emotional games on my mind, spirit, and body.
Well tomorrow I have stuff planned. Well, half of them are plans. First I have my stinkin' allergy shots at 1:15, at least I can listen to Goo which is the only that saves me for that 30 minutes, and then guitar at 3:30 which is always enjoyable. More Goo too, becaause he said he's gonna teach me Iris this week. He said we'd do it last week but he didn't have time to learn it so he promised me for this week. That will keep me occupied until 4:30 but I don't know what I'm going to do with myself after that, I predict a tearful evening.
Wednesday I'm heading into PA to check out colleges. I'm not really looking forward to the trip but at least it gets me out of the house and gets my mind on something else. We're really not going to do much there anyway, just drive around the campuses so it's probably not going to be too horrible. Though I do dread the long car ride.
Thursday I have friends coming over for a day of Goospeare! That I'm REALLY looking forward to. The rest of the break, I really have no idea what's going on. I'll most likely post something from here day to day either ranting about the horribly depressing my day was (most likely) or raving about how fantastic it was (probably only Goospeare), and no I don't think there is an in between. Sigh.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
What Would You Do?
I’m not looking for answers here. Just something that seemed like it might help me. If anyone does read this, however, I ask that you do think about the situations I give you. Most likely you’ve never gone through these things and it might be interesting for you to try and guess what you’d do. You never really know until it happens, though, as I have found out.
Let’s start at the beginning (where else?): What would you do if for the better part of the summer you were often in the bathroom having diarrhea?
I blew it off. It wasn’t constant just off and on. Everyone gets like that sometimes right? I took over the counter stuff and it worked until the next bout. But still, it wasn’t a big deal for me.
What would you do if after the start of school and an after school activity you came home, ate dinner, then threw it all up in the toilet an instant later?
Again, blowing it off. It was a hot day at school and I was tired and I had done a lot. God I even remember the exact date, September 18, 2006. I had come home from a 730 chorus meeting, which I didn’t even stick with, and was eating a really late dinner at about 830. Actually, I was a little upset at first but my mom convinced me that I was just overheated and overtired. I’m not saying its her fault or anything, because I was more than happy to believe her.
What would you do if it persisted almost everyday?
Then we all got scared. Especially me. It was happening to me, ho the hell could I not be scared?! We contacted doctors, of course, but it makes me mad to think that this really made it worse in the long run.
What would you do if your doctors were so sure of what you had and then would change it in the next week?
I was so damn confused. First they told me it was GERD, a form of acid reflux disease, so I was happy and just wanted to get it all away. Then the way the told me to eat and the medicine they told me to use wasn’t working. I went to a different doctor and he was positive it was Celiac disease, which is really a fancy term for allergic to gluten. So ok good, give me the medicine tell me where to get the gluten free food I’m not thrilled, but if it will stop this I’m good with it. Only it didn’t stop. Then the only thing I could do was ask myself: why?
What would you do if you had to be taken to the emergency room in order to meet with a doctor who could actually help you?
This is a longer story. We tried to get appointments with gastroenterologists at hospitals since my condition was quickly declining but everyone had 8 month waiting lists. One day in November we had a dress down day at my Catholic school. Apparently, it was a lot colder than I had judged and the shirt I was wearing wasn’t quit heavy enough. Oh yeah, and one of my teachers had every window open for one of my first period class so I was freezing! I went to my next classes shivering always and my fingers turning blue. I had an algebra quiz that day, though, so I said I’ll take it and then at lunch, which was right after algebra, I’ll go to the nurse and go home. That is exactly what I thought and its scary that I remember my exact thoughts.
So I was really sick. I went home and fell asleep on the lazy-boy chair in front of my big screen TV under a giant comforter still freezing. Then my mom remembered that I had a flu shot scheduled for that day. Obviously, I didn’t want to go but she took me not to get it but to talk about what was going on. When we went the one doctor who I liked out of the two who would see me came in. She had me lay down on the bench and she pressed her hand against my stomach. When she pressed my lower right side I winced and cried out in utter pain. She told my mom that she should take me to the hospital because, though she didn’t think it was, it looked like it could be appendicitis and it would get me in to see the doctor they had recommended.
So I go there and we were waiting in the waiting room for a long time. Then we got into the emergency area and a nurse came into my little clothed off section and handed me a cup and said, “You’re going to have a CAT scan. You need to drink two of these drinks. I know they taste bad, but you have to keep it down or else you’ll start all over again. When you’re done with this I’ll give you your second one.” She also told me that they had put it in apple juice. I always liked apple juice and didn’t think it could really be as bad as she said it would be. Damn, was I wrong. It was the foulest tasting liquid you’d ever drink. I can’t even think of a word to describe its awful taste.
I had the CAT scan and then afterwards the doctor who had the 8 month waiting list came into see us. He told us that he was pretty sure I had Crohn’s disease. He said that it was very rare for a person my age to contract it and I would need to have a colonoscopy to make sure, but he was 99.9% positive it was Crohn’s. I was relieved yet not. Why should this be the right diagnosis this time?
What would you do if the word “food” became synonymous with “liquid”?
How long was I on that stupid liquid diet? I don’t really remember but I know I hated it. First it was just a liquid diet so it was things like cream of whatever soup, ice cream, and anything that wasn’t solid food. Then it was clear liquid and that meant jello and broths were about the only things I could have. I fell apart.
What would you do when there finally seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel?
It was Crohn’s! That was pretty much my reaction. He was so positive that I was just relieved that it would all finally go away, no matter what it was. Ha! Man, was I stupid!
What would you do if everything started again?
It was Thanksgiving Day. I was still on a liquid, not clear, diet for God knows why. I was on medicine and everything had been going good for a while. I was eating my Cream of Potato soup watching the Thanksgiving Day parade. Suddenly my stomach flipped inside of my gut and I ran to the bathroom but didn’t quit make it in time. I was moved to the living room and given a large pot. The heaves seemed endless. I’d spit up miniscule amounts of phlegm every minute with horrible aftertastes and terrible pain. All the while asking myself and my parents through angry, bitter tears, “Why is this still happening?! Why aren’t I better?! Why didn’t this work?!”
What would you do if all of the sudden it was hard to walk?
Walk? Yeah, that’s right walk. I began to limp. My upper right thigh had this excruciating pain for no reason. I chose to hide it. I was young; I still am but even younger then. I had just gone through hell I didn’t want to do it all over again. However, it reached a point where I couldn’t hide it anymore. We iced it and it seemed to get better and my mom called the doctor but he said not to worry. Shut the hell up Dr. Braindead.
What would you think if you heard the word surgery?
At first, it was mixed feelings. He said that for what I had it might not be necessary and that they would keep me in the hospital a couple more days and then send me home with an oral antibiotic but surgery might be needed in the end. It scared me at first but everyone said that it probably wouldn’t have to happen anyway. I distinctly remember thinking, why don’t you just do it now and get it over with? The way my luck is going I’m going to need it in the end anyhow. Aw, I was intuitive!
What would you do if walking became IMPOSSIBLE?
When my stay at the hospital was over I RAN out of that God forsaken building. I went home and took the meds. They didn’t work to say the least. My leg became unbearable and it had spread to my back as well. By the time I had to go back to the hospital I had to be taken in with a WHEELCHAIR.
What would you do if from then on all they tried to do to help was only causing more pain?
From here on most of the rest of my experience can be lumped together in one file titled CHOP (Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia). First of all, doesn’t a name like CHOP just scream, “This is where I’m going to be healed!”? Everything there was absolutely awful. I had to have a PIC line put in, which is a huge IV that has a tube that get directly plugged into a major artery. They said they gave me pain medicine but I don’t believe that they gave me enough because, even though I was only half there, I was still conscious of my surroundings and felt every God damn thing they did. I had to have more tests. More CAT scans with that stupid drink that I threw up all over my room only to find out that it was fine and that the second cup really wasn’t needed. There was a trip to an MRI where they didn’t have a wheelchair for me and I collapsed in the middle of a hallway. An MRI where they told me to lay flat, which was impossible because it hurt way too much to put my right leg down, don’t move, and tuck you hands under your head and have your elbows sticking up in the air. Then they put a giant plastic cover over my abdomen where something was jabbing right into where my pain was. I went I n the machine the way they told me to and my elbows touched the top of the machine, that’s how tightly in I was packed. They told me I was going to be given a button I could push if I needed to come out but I was given no such device. I was in so much pain in there tha after 45 minutes, apparently, I screamed and cried for someone to get me out. More trials and tribulations such as these occurred until my surgery in June of 2007.
What would you do if even surgery wasn’t the end?
I was given a feeding tube. Something I never want to experience again. It’s fed through your nose down to your stomach and you choke to death all the while it goes down. I had to change it multiple times as well because of throwing up. I went home with that thing for the summer but only ended up using it for the rest of June through mid-July because I puked again and I refused to choke myself to death all over again.
What would you do if all this happened when you were merely 14?
Yeah, what the hell is someone that age supposed to make of all this? I guess I just told you, though, didn’t I?
What would you do if it never went away?
It still haunts me. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about it. It has ruined me and I can’t get over it no matter how hard I try. Though it may not seem like it I really only described half the battle. There’s more to what happened then. There’s more to what’s going on now. It is an interminable war, one which I’m sure I will be defeated in, in the end.
Let’s start at the beginning (where else?): What would you do if for the better part of the summer you were often in the bathroom having diarrhea?
I blew it off. It wasn’t constant just off and on. Everyone gets like that sometimes right? I took over the counter stuff and it worked until the next bout. But still, it wasn’t a big deal for me.
What would you do if after the start of school and an after school activity you came home, ate dinner, then threw it all up in the toilet an instant later?
Again, blowing it off. It was a hot day at school and I was tired and I had done a lot. God I even remember the exact date, September 18, 2006. I had come home from a 730 chorus meeting, which I didn’t even stick with, and was eating a really late dinner at about 830. Actually, I was a little upset at first but my mom convinced me that I was just overheated and overtired. I’m not saying its her fault or anything, because I was more than happy to believe her.
What would you do if it persisted almost everyday?
Then we all got scared. Especially me. It was happening to me, ho the hell could I not be scared?! We contacted doctors, of course, but it makes me mad to think that this really made it worse in the long run.
What would you do if your doctors were so sure of what you had and then would change it in the next week?
I was so damn confused. First they told me it was GERD, a form of acid reflux disease, so I was happy and just wanted to get it all away. Then the way the told me to eat and the medicine they told me to use wasn’t working. I went to a different doctor and he was positive it was Celiac disease, which is really a fancy term for allergic to gluten. So ok good, give me the medicine tell me where to get the gluten free food I’m not thrilled, but if it will stop this I’m good with it. Only it didn’t stop. Then the only thing I could do was ask myself: why?
What would you do if you had to be taken to the emergency room in order to meet with a doctor who could actually help you?
This is a longer story. We tried to get appointments with gastroenterologists at hospitals since my condition was quickly declining but everyone had 8 month waiting lists. One day in November we had a dress down day at my Catholic school. Apparently, it was a lot colder than I had judged and the shirt I was wearing wasn’t quit heavy enough. Oh yeah, and one of my teachers had every window open for one of my first period class so I was freezing! I went to my next classes shivering always and my fingers turning blue. I had an algebra quiz that day, though, so I said I’ll take it and then at lunch, which was right after algebra, I’ll go to the nurse and go home. That is exactly what I thought and its scary that I remember my exact thoughts.
So I was really sick. I went home and fell asleep on the lazy-boy chair in front of my big screen TV under a giant comforter still freezing. Then my mom remembered that I had a flu shot scheduled for that day. Obviously, I didn’t want to go but she took me not to get it but to talk about what was going on. When we went the one doctor who I liked out of the two who would see me came in. She had me lay down on the bench and she pressed her hand against my stomach. When she pressed my lower right side I winced and cried out in utter pain. She told my mom that she should take me to the hospital because, though she didn’t think it was, it looked like it could be appendicitis and it would get me in to see the doctor they had recommended.
So I go there and we were waiting in the waiting room for a long time. Then we got into the emergency area and a nurse came into my little clothed off section and handed me a cup and said, “You’re going to have a CAT scan. You need to drink two of these drinks. I know they taste bad, but you have to keep it down or else you’ll start all over again. When you’re done with this I’ll give you your second one.” She also told me that they had put it in apple juice. I always liked apple juice and didn’t think it could really be as bad as she said it would be. Damn, was I wrong. It was the foulest tasting liquid you’d ever drink. I can’t even think of a word to describe its awful taste.
I had the CAT scan and then afterwards the doctor who had the 8 month waiting list came into see us. He told us that he was pretty sure I had Crohn’s disease. He said that it was very rare for a person my age to contract it and I would need to have a colonoscopy to make sure, but he was 99.9% positive it was Crohn’s. I was relieved yet not. Why should this be the right diagnosis this time?
What would you do if the word “food” became synonymous with “liquid”?
How long was I on that stupid liquid diet? I don’t really remember but I know I hated it. First it was just a liquid diet so it was things like cream of whatever soup, ice cream, and anything that wasn’t solid food. Then it was clear liquid and that meant jello and broths were about the only things I could have. I fell apart.
What would you do when there finally seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel?
It was Crohn’s! That was pretty much my reaction. He was so positive that I was just relieved that it would all finally go away, no matter what it was. Ha! Man, was I stupid!
What would you do if everything started again?
It was Thanksgiving Day. I was still on a liquid, not clear, diet for God knows why. I was on medicine and everything had been going good for a while. I was eating my Cream of Potato soup watching the Thanksgiving Day parade. Suddenly my stomach flipped inside of my gut and I ran to the bathroom but didn’t quit make it in time. I was moved to the living room and given a large pot. The heaves seemed endless. I’d spit up miniscule amounts of phlegm every minute with horrible aftertastes and terrible pain. All the while asking myself and my parents through angry, bitter tears, “Why is this still happening?! Why aren’t I better?! Why didn’t this work?!”
What would you do if all of the sudden it was hard to walk?
Walk? Yeah, that’s right walk. I began to limp. My upper right thigh had this excruciating pain for no reason. I chose to hide it. I was young; I still am but even younger then. I had just gone through hell I didn’t want to do it all over again. However, it reached a point where I couldn’t hide it anymore. We iced it and it seemed to get better and my mom called the doctor but he said not to worry. Shut the hell up Dr. Braindead.
What would you think if you heard the word surgery?
At first, it was mixed feelings. He said that for what I had it might not be necessary and that they would keep me in the hospital a couple more days and then send me home with an oral antibiotic but surgery might be needed in the end. It scared me at first but everyone said that it probably wouldn’t have to happen anyway. I distinctly remember thinking, why don’t you just do it now and get it over with? The way my luck is going I’m going to need it in the end anyhow. Aw, I was intuitive!
What would you do if walking became IMPOSSIBLE?
When my stay at the hospital was over I RAN out of that God forsaken building. I went home and took the meds. They didn’t work to say the least. My leg became unbearable and it had spread to my back as well. By the time I had to go back to the hospital I had to be taken in with a WHEELCHAIR.
What would you do if from then on all they tried to do to help was only causing more pain?
From here on most of the rest of my experience can be lumped together in one file titled CHOP (Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia). First of all, doesn’t a name like CHOP just scream, “This is where I’m going to be healed!”? Everything there was absolutely awful. I had to have a PIC line put in, which is a huge IV that has a tube that get directly plugged into a major artery. They said they gave me pain medicine but I don’t believe that they gave me enough because, even though I was only half there, I was still conscious of my surroundings and felt every God damn thing they did. I had to have more tests. More CAT scans with that stupid drink that I threw up all over my room only to find out that it was fine and that the second cup really wasn’t needed. There was a trip to an MRI where they didn’t have a wheelchair for me and I collapsed in the middle of a hallway. An MRI where they told me to lay flat, which was impossible because it hurt way too much to put my right leg down, don’t move, and tuck you hands under your head and have your elbows sticking up in the air. Then they put a giant plastic cover over my abdomen where something was jabbing right into where my pain was. I went I n the machine the way they told me to and my elbows touched the top of the machine, that’s how tightly in I was packed. They told me I was going to be given a button I could push if I needed to come out but I was given no such device. I was in so much pain in there tha after 45 minutes, apparently, I screamed and cried for someone to get me out. More trials and tribulations such as these occurred until my surgery in June of 2007.
What would you do if even surgery wasn’t the end?
I was given a feeding tube. Something I never want to experience again. It’s fed through your nose down to your stomach and you choke to death all the while it goes down. I had to change it multiple times as well because of throwing up. I went home with that thing for the summer but only ended up using it for the rest of June through mid-July because I puked again and I refused to choke myself to death all over again.
What would you do if all this happened when you were merely 14?
Yeah, what the hell is someone that age supposed to make of all this? I guess I just told you, though, didn’t I?
What would you do if it never went away?
It still haunts me. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about it. It has ruined me and I can’t get over it no matter how hard I try. Though it may not seem like it I really only described half the battle. There’s more to what happened then. There’s more to what’s going on now. It is an interminable war, one which I’m sure I will be defeated in, in the end.
What the Hell?
What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is going on with me? Why the hell is this happening to me? Why the hell do I feel like this?
Questions I ask myself almost everyday. I have no reason to be depressed, angry, or anything like that, yet I always seem to be. First of all, I know I don't have a crappy life in the least. I have a family, pets, everything I could ever want or need. I KNOW all this. The thing is, somehow it isn't enough for me. You think I want to feel like this? You think I'm purposely doing this? We'll you're DEAD WRONG. I have a lot of good in my life, but I can't focus on it. I think about the bad and I dwell on it. Why? Why don't you tell me! I have no idea! All I know is that I cry myself to sleep almost every single night of my life ever since that time. That time in my life that I have renamed "The Fallout". That time in my life that gives me reason to relate to these words of John Rzeznik, "Scars are souvenirs you never lose. The past is never far." What is that time? That time is when I was in and out of hospitals for half a year of my life.
The past is never far. Truer words have never been spoken. (or sung in this case) People tell me to live in the now. Well, that's helpful! How the hell can I live in the now? You can't just forget about a time in your life that has destroyed your spirit. It's always there around you. You close your eyes and poof! your back where you started. It's ingrained in your memory, mind, and spirit and there is no escaping.
There is no way of escaping, yet that is exactly what I need. I need to forget, but I can't. It is a physical impossibility. How the hell can I forget when there is nothing else to think about? How the hell can I live in the now or the moment when the now and the moment consist of absolutely nothing? More quotes! "All day, staring at the ceiling making friends with shadows on my wall. All night, hearing voices telling me that I should get some sleep cause tomorrow might be good for something. Hold on, I feel like I'm headed for a breakdown but I don't know why" Unwell - Matchbox 20. I feel like this is what my life has come to consist of. I do the same thing every God damn day of my life and it has become to mean nothing anymore. Guitar, TV, music, computer, writing. Nothing is anything. Everything is nothing. It has all lost its meaning and I can't take it anymore.
I need to do something. I need to talk to someone. I just need something to get me out of this utter abyss of nothingness! I have friends but what the hell kind of friend would I be to inflict my troubles on them? (I do that to my Goo friends and I feel absolutely horrible about it) Sure there's my parents, easy way out right? WRONG! My brother is going through problems and driving my parents crazy with his depression. What the hell would they say if I came to them like this? How the hell can I inflict more suffering on them? I need help, a way out but I don't know how to find either.
You can't imagine the horrific images flowing through my mind in just the past day. Ropes around my neck, guns in my mouth, blades across my throat. When they first started a long time ago they used to intimidate me, scare me. Not anymore. They've become so frequent I brush them off as normal. No, it's more than that, I want it. That means this would all be over. There'd be no more worrying, no more pain, no more dreading, no more sleepless nights, no more tears, no more of anything that is making my life a living hell right now. I want them, and I know its not right.
Sometimes I want them, but others........I think it's a way out. It's the only way out I can see. If there is another way I'd tske it if shown to me. I need help, I need rescue! Someone show me the way God dammit!
Questions I ask myself almost everyday. I have no reason to be depressed, angry, or anything like that, yet I always seem to be. First of all, I know I don't have a crappy life in the least. I have a family, pets, everything I could ever want or need. I KNOW all this. The thing is, somehow it isn't enough for me. You think I want to feel like this? You think I'm purposely doing this? We'll you're DEAD WRONG. I have a lot of good in my life, but I can't focus on it. I think about the bad and I dwell on it. Why? Why don't you tell me! I have no idea! All I know is that I cry myself to sleep almost every single night of my life ever since that time. That time in my life that I have renamed "The Fallout". That time in my life that gives me reason to relate to these words of John Rzeznik, "Scars are souvenirs you never lose. The past is never far." What is that time? That time is when I was in and out of hospitals for half a year of my life.
The past is never far. Truer words have never been spoken. (or sung in this case) People tell me to live in the now. Well, that's helpful! How the hell can I live in the now? You can't just forget about a time in your life that has destroyed your spirit. It's always there around you. You close your eyes and poof! your back where you started. It's ingrained in your memory, mind, and spirit and there is no escaping.
There is no way of escaping, yet that is exactly what I need. I need to forget, but I can't. It is a physical impossibility. How the hell can I forget when there is nothing else to think about? How the hell can I live in the now or the moment when the now and the moment consist of absolutely nothing? More quotes! "All day, staring at the ceiling making friends with shadows on my wall. All night, hearing voices telling me that I should get some sleep cause tomorrow might be good for something. Hold on, I feel like I'm headed for a breakdown but I don't know why" Unwell - Matchbox 20. I feel like this is what my life has come to consist of. I do the same thing every God damn day of my life and it has become to mean nothing anymore. Guitar, TV, music, computer, writing. Nothing is anything. Everything is nothing. It has all lost its meaning and I can't take it anymore.
I need to do something. I need to talk to someone. I just need something to get me out of this utter abyss of nothingness! I have friends but what the hell kind of friend would I be to inflict my troubles on them? (I do that to my Goo friends and I feel absolutely horrible about it) Sure there's my parents, easy way out right? WRONG! My brother is going through problems and driving my parents crazy with his depression. What the hell would they say if I came to them like this? How the hell can I inflict more suffering on them? I need help, a way out but I don't know how to find either.
You can't imagine the horrific images flowing through my mind in just the past day. Ropes around my neck, guns in my mouth, blades across my throat. When they first started a long time ago they used to intimidate me, scare me. Not anymore. They've become so frequent I brush them off as normal. No, it's more than that, I want it. That means this would all be over. There'd be no more worrying, no more pain, no more dreading, no more sleepless nights, no more tears, no more of anything that is making my life a living hell right now. I want them, and I know its not right.
Sometimes I want them, but others........I think it's a way out. It's the only way out I can see. If there is another way I'd tske it if shown to me. I need help, I need rescue! Someone show me the way God dammit!
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