December 2013 my insides start to fall out. Takes gyne and colorectal surgeon to get me moving again.
I move straight into dealing with the death of my father. I was his only child. But in a very large kindred with roots still deeply planted in the South he was "the last father."
Being with large groups of people really tires me out. Then just as I was starting to recuperate my best friend died on my birthday.
My pain management physician decided that Cymbalta was the wonder drug that I needed. However, he did not consider my full medical history and I had horrible side effects -they started with elevated liver enzymes and some other things that could only be seen in bloodwork and extended to an episode if hypomania (nearly but not quite manic). As I started to lower my doses I discovered "Cymbalta Discontinuation Syndrome." In the end I was using a 5mg scoop to remove balls from the capsules. This required seeing a lot of other docs because the pain management guy kept coming up with terrible explanations and wanted to treat me with other drugs that I know I cannot take.
Just as I was getting to the end of Cymbalta, I took a nasty fall that three weeks later still has me sore all over.
I can't live in my house anymore. It is just too much work for a woman who has been battling autoimmune diseases for 58 years and had had 7 major surgeries and minor ones too numerous to count.
I have not qualified for any of the 55+ living quarters that I like because my income is slightly too high to qualify for tax credit units. Today I am going to look at a place that I calk "motel hell." It is so ugly that I think of it as a reformatory for old girls who have been bad. They have some units that they rent out to people who don't qualify for tax credit places at the going market rate. The only positive thing about motel hell is location.
But I am gonna put on my clothes - it is March and I have to dress like a vampire to leave the house at this time of day.
I don't know where I would be at this point if I did not have a black belt in coping with stress. Unfortunately, I have not been able to swim and that has always been my most important coping mechanism. Even with my status as an expert in coping with stress, I could use some good news today. I need the rental agent to say that I qualify and that the waiting list is short.
I could also use a little emotional support. I am overwhelmed by advice from well meaning friends and relatives who do not have a clue. In the next stress reduction workshop that I deliver that tolic will receive a lot of time.
Right now I am lacing up my boots, applying my sun block, grabbing my forearm crutches and going out to meet this stressor head on.