Still alive

Wow, it has been two and a half weeks since I've posted last. Is anyone still out there?

So, let's see, what has happened in those past two weeks?

Oh.....

Right.....

I committed myself - at my doctor's suggestion - to a psychiatric hospital.

The good news is, it was one of the top three psych hospitals in the country with such famous alumni as Sylvia Plath, John Nash, Steven Tyler, and pretty much the entire Taylor family including James Taylor (at least according to Wikipedia).

So I spent roughly 48 hours in a locked facility that, once admitted, I wasn't allowed to leave without a doctor's approval. And if I wanted to force said approval I had to put it in writing and then they had three business days to approve my discharge or petition the court to keep me there.

Wow.

That's some serious business.

So how did I end up at McLean?

Well, it all started by chewing on the inside of my lip.

Which evolved into me biting on my tongue until it was so sore I could barely taste my food.

Which then evolved into me using a scissors to scratch - not cut - a couple dozen marks on my left arm. Some drew blood, most didn't, but it didn't matter. It looked like my arm lost a battle against 100 angry kittens.

And all that got me a round trip ticket to the Nut Hut.

Luckily I was the least nuttiest nut in the nut hut and I was released after 48 hours. I didn't spend much time with the doctors or attend a lot of therapy sessions but I think it did the trick none the less. I like to think of it as the "Scared Straight" program for crazy people. Because as much as I know I needed the help - and the adjustments they made to my meds were possibly life saving - the worst part was knowing that I could lose my freedom, my ability to see my kids whenever I wanted to, and that there were people - of all ages - that have it a lot worse off then me.

So now I'm home. I've had a really good week and I'm starting to feel like myself again. Am I cured? No. But when I start to feel overwhelmed I sit down, think about what is bothering me and why, and come up with a game plan to tackle it so that I never, ever end up back there.

SEE!!!! They're dangerous

Last November I finally came to terms with my fear of hardwood floors. When I was in 3rd grade my friend Rachel and I were playing at her house, I slipped on the hardwood floor, and broke my finger. Back in the fall we put in hardwood laminate in our office. Now technically it's not hardwood but it still freaks me out a bit. AS IT SHOULD!!!! Check out what happened to me last night. I was walking across the floor in the office, slipped, and came down really hard on the open drawer of my desk. Check out this bruise.

The worst part

The worst part about my struggle with depression is when it directly affects my kids. When I'm in such a dark place that I snap at them for no reason or when they ask me to do something with them and I say no because of the mood that I'm in. It sucks for them and that is totally not fair. I hate this.

I might be running from something....I'm just not sure

In the fairly recent past I've put up some posts regarding my battle with depression. I never expected to be one that suffered from depression. I have a fantastic life. I have a husband who loves me and worships the ground I walk on. I have two beautiful, wonderful, smart, healthy children that I adore. Lincoln and I have jobs that keeps the roof over our heads. What do I have to be depressed about?

I don't.

But I am.

After my physical exam back in April my general practitioner put me on an anti-depressant. It worked for a little bit and then came "the episode".

I don't know how else to refer to this situation. Every day when I got in my car to go to work I would burst into tears and cry the whole way in to the office. I could usually hold it together through the day but I never felt good. I never felt like me.

And then came "the episode".

That day I got in my car and drove to work - crying - and my mother called. She asked me how I was and I started to cry some more. Then I got to the office and realized I had missed a due date on one of our personal bills and started crying again. Then my boss - my wonderful, understanding, great boss - walked into my office and asked me how I was and I started crying. I told him I would talk to him later. After another conversation - including tears- with my friend Melissa I went into my boss's office and told him I needed to take some time off. I was a horrible, sobbing, humiliated, mess but he was incredibly understanding. After explaining the situation - again in tears - to my assistant I then proceeded to drive home talking to my dad. Yes, you guessed it, in tears. I don't think I've ever cried that much in my life.

Since then I have had my medicine doubled - and then tripled - and I'm feeling better. My boss called in some favors and hooked me up with an incredible psychiatrist associated with Harvard and I have been seeing him for the past few weeks. It really has done me a world of good but I still have good days and bad days.

In the past three weeks I have traveled to Iowa, Martha's Vineyard, and - this coming weekend - Maine. Why?

I love to travel. That's no secret. But what is with my current inability to stay home? I love being home. I'm more relaxed when I'm at home. When I can take time off of work I definitely have better days.

So why?

I think my love of travel has always allowed me to step outside of my own world. It allows me to experience new things and new places and new adventures. When I travel I'm not tied to work or home or life commitments. It's a choice. I travel because I love it. I think it's the only time I actually feel in control.

This battle continues to rage inside my brain. I can't explain it. I don't understand. As I've stated above, I'm the first to admit I have a wonderful, wonderful life. It just goes to show that depression is not a situational thing, but a chemical imbalance.

I appreciate all the love and support that I've received from many of you. I don't understand what is going on in my head these days but I know with the love of all of you - and the professional guidance of Dr. Romansky - I will eventually come out the other side.

Thank you.

And in the meantime, feel free to forward me any travel deals you find!

Medicated

Yesterday was my annual physical and during my meeting with my doctor I told her my concerns and feelings of depression lately. I was amazed at how hard it was for me to bring it up. I have never thought twice about people needing to be treated for depression and I think it's great that there are drugs out there that can help people. There is no shame in asking for help and yet I almost didn't say anything because I didn't want to feel like "a failure". The only reason I actually forced myself to do it was because the night before my appointment Mom had reminded me to ask and I knew she'd be calling me the minute I left the doctors office to find out what she said and I didn't want to let Mom down. I'm glad that I did talk to the doctor (thanks Mom!) and she put me on some medication for depression and anxiety. After talking to the doctor for a bit she said that it sounds less like "sad" depression and more like "anxiety" depression. She said that sometimes apparently minor - but stressful - things can build up and cause so much anxiety that the person starts to develop feelings of depression. That actually made a lot of sense and if you figure in the year-end stress at work, Nate's death and wondering what I can do to help Lincoln though that, the flood at the office, the layoffs at the office, my intense dislike of some parts of my job, my commitments to the PTO, the stress of paying bills, and the overwhelming confusion on how to help Link build his business and it's no wonder the anxiety was piling up.

So now I'm one of millions of medicated Americans for depression. I have a follow up appointment with the doctor in a few months and we'll see how this helps. I really hope it does.

Nothing to say

I know I've been very quiet on the blog lately. I hate to disappoint my 20+ faithful readers but my mind has been a little too crazy lately to focus my thoughts. Most of all a lot of stuff has been going on at work - and not just the flood - and I've also been feeling very poorly lately.

When I get incredibly stressed out I have severe joint problems that flair up and apparently I am seriously stressed out right now since my left food and hand are in constant pain these days. The worst my joints have ever been was when I was graduating college, didn't know what I was going to do with my life, and was about to move to a city where the only person I knew was a former teacher and her family who I hadn't seen in 6 years. At that time it was every single joint in my body....toes, ankles, knees, hips, fingers, wrists, shoulders..... It wasn't pretty.

But I don't need my joints to tell me that I'm stressed. I know I'm stressed. And I know that it has been hard for Lincoln to watch me try to struggle through some things that he can't help me with. He has been incredibly supportive and loving and has acted as an incredible buffer for the kids who, unfortunately, sometimes take the brunt of my stress when I'm yelling at them for things that are usually minor infractions.

So what am I stressed about? That's just it. I can't articulate it. Life is overwhelming me right now and I feel like I can't get a grasp on anything. Work and home and life and Lincoln's company all seem bigger than life and bigger than me and I just want to not be a grown up anymore. I don't want to have all this responsibility and pressure and decision making that needs to be done. I want to go back to high school when the biggest problem I had was whether or not I'd be asked out on a date. Or better yet, back to elementary school when my biggest problem was if I'd be picked last in gym class.

If I could just get a handle on a few of these things I think things would start to fall back into place but instead of getting a handle on anything I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep. Except I'm not sleeping well. And I can't focus on a lazy day of just reading a good book or a stack of magazines because I just feel restless. My mind won't be still.

And that is why I can't write these days. My thoughts aren't focused. I don't know what I want to say...or more importantly what I need to say.....that would be the magic word to make me feel better. I ramble and am unfocused and I just don't know.............

So, I guess, for now I have nothing to say.

11 hours and counting

Today is the first day that I actually have felt fairly healthy. I still have a bit of congestion but compared to where I was I feel great. I even got up early this morning and got to the office before 7 a.m. so that I could catch up on everything I've been avoiding while I've been sick.

Unfortunately for Lincoln he now has come down with the same thing I've had. Right now he's in the "lost voice and loose chest congestion" stage of the process. And I'm sad to say I haven't been much help.

Lincoln: (coughing and sounding miserable this morning)

Me: Oh man. You sound so bad. I want to tell you you'll feel better soon but you won't. This is only going to get worse.

Lincoln: Please stop talking to me.

Getting my ass kicked

This cold is seriously kicking my ass. It has now been over a week since I first had symptoms and 5 days since it had me in bed during daytime hours. I made it through an entire day of work yesterday but last night was brutal. I thought poor Lincoln was going to have to sleep on the couch while I stayed up all night coughing. Luckily Lincoln managed to find some unexpired liquid cough suppressant in our house. We don't use it often so it tends to go bad before we buy new stuff. Personally I was about ready to pour vegetable oil down my throat to coat it. Thank God he's the sane one.

20th Century Swine Flu

November 11th will mark the 1st anniversary of my Uncle Linus's death. I can't believe it has already been a year almost. I'm working on a memorial project that I'm putting together for the anniversary of his death and my cousin Karen sent me a disc full of photos and newspaper clippings. As I was going through the disc tonight I noticed this newspaper clipping that must have been taken back in the 1970s or '80s when Uncle Linus was receiving his swine flu shot.

I really wish he was here to get the swine flu now.

Blah

That's how I feel. Blah. I can feel a nasty cold coming on but I really don't have time for it. I have a bad sore throat and congestion is setting in but hopefully it will hold off for a few more days.

Tomorrow is a big day...we have a big surprise for the kids that I think they'll really like. Just a little hint...it involves travel, my inability to stay home more than a few months, my belief that you don't have to get a hotel room when you travel if you're back within 24 hours, and a series of photos that make Jake very upset when he sees them.

Mull that over for awhile and I'll let you know tomorrow what the secret day is that we have planned for the kids.

The entire insurance industry is certifiably insane. Is that considered a pre-existing condition?

Lincoln and I are increasing the amount of our life insurance and to do so we have to take a mini-physical and fill out a long health insurance questionnaire. In addition to filling out a written questionnaire you also have to do a 20-30 minute interview over the phone. I completed mine today. My two favorite parts of the conversation were about the birth of Jacob.

Insurance Company Rep: In the past 5 years have you ever been admitted to the hospital overnight?

Me: Yes, when I had my son.

ICR: And what symptoms prompted you to go to the hospital?

Me: Um, I was in labor? (Not technically true since I was induced but my other choice was to say "Well, he wasn't going to stay in there forever" but I thought that might be too smart-ass of a comment.)

ICR: And how was the situation remedied?

Me: I gave birth.

ICR: And what was the result of your treatment?

Me: A baby boy.

(Later I just couldn't hold back the wise-cracking. Luckily the guy taking the survey had a pretty good sense of humor.)

ICR: Have you ever been on short or long term disability?

Me: Yes, I was on short-term disability when I had my son. That's how my company does maternity leave.

ICR: And how were you disabled?

Me: Apparently by having a child.

ICR: And are you still disabled?

Me: Technically? No.

ICR: How was your disability remedied?

Me: Well, I still have the kid. I'm just not getting paid for it anymore.

Celebrating the little things.....the really, really little things

Five years ago this coming December I gave birth to Jake. Five years ago today I gave birth to my kidney stone. And yes, I think delivering the kidney stone hurt a hell of a lot worse than delivering Jake. At least with Jake I had an epidural.

Why do I remember this? Because it was on our wedding anniversary. Lincoln and I were supposed to be going out to dinner for our anniversary and after lunch that day I started having terrible back pain. I was 7 months pregnant at the time and was absolutely positive that I was in labor. They always say that a kidney stone is the closest a man will coming to feeling what labor is like and I totally agree with that statement. It was like one long contraction without the relief in between.

When I thought I was in labor my friend Melissa had her assistant, Magen, drive me all the way out to the hospital by my house. Lincoln was working on a job site out in Western Mass and it would take him a while to get to the hospital so Magen came in with me. I think it cured her of ever wanting children.

When we got to the ER they whisked me up to the maternity ward right away and started strapping on the bands that measure contractions and the baby's heartbeat. They were having a terrible time trying to get them on because Jake was all over the place. He could obviously tell that Mommy was stressed and in pain and he was movin' and groovin' in there like there was no tomorrow. My stomach looked like an alien was trying to pop through. Probably not something a young, twenty-something, childless co-worker wanted to see but she was a real trouper....even as all the blood left her face.

The contraction monitor wasn't picking anything up so they figured that it was likely a kidney stone. I got them to take off the contraction monitoring band but they wanted to keep the heartbeat one on to make sure that Jake wasn't in distress. Let me tell you, the person in distress was ME! Imagine having the worst possible pain in your back, a bowling ball moving around in your stomach, and a tight velcro band around your middle. I kept clawing at the heartbeat monitor and begging them to take it off. The nurse kept saying "we need to make sure the baby is fine" so I finally snapped "The baby is FINE! I can FEEL the baby! Take this damn thing off me." We finally compromised and she took the band off and gave me a button to push every time I felt the baby move. I was pushing that button like a drug addict hooked up to one of those "control it yourself" morphine lines the doctors sometimes put in for seriously ill patients. Jake was all over the place and didn't sit still in my stomach the entire time I was in the hospital.

They said that my outburst when I was clawing at my belly was probably the point when the kidney stone actually passed through wherever it was blocked because after that things got better rapidly. They sent me home that evening with a plastic cup and a filter. The next day out came my little kidney stone. I'm more proud of delivering that little sucker than Jake because with Jake I got an epidural, slept through the transitioning stage, and woke up to push for about 13 minutes before Jake popped out. It was FAR more painful passing that damn, itty bitty kidney stone. But I still have it. Yes I do. In a sealed cup. That I look at from time to time.

I'm weird, I know.

Looks like we're pushing the anniversary plans back a few days

Next Wednesday is our 9th wedding anniversary. Our plan was to go out to dinner and celebrate on our actual anniversary. I suppose we still could but I would like to be able to have some wine with our fancy dinner so I think we'll be pushing it back a few days.

Earlier today I found out I have a bacterial infection from my little dip in the pool last week to repair the hole in the bottom of the pool. The doctor told me she'd call in a prescription for antibiotics for me but that I had to make sure not to drink any alcohol while I was on it. I have no problems not drinking for a week while I'm on the pills but I thought it strange that she really emphasized this point. Medicine always has a "do not drink alcohol" label on the bottle but usually it doesn't mean that much. I mean, a glass of wine wouldn't kill you.

Lincoln picked up the prescription for me and I checked out the warnings on the bottle and it had the standard "Do not drink alcoholic beverages when taking this medicine" but this time it always said "check all medicine or food labels to help avoid hidden sources of alcohol". What? Wow. This sounds pretty serious. Usually when I get a new medication I skim the informational pamphlet on the side effects but this time I actually read the entire thing. One important thing I picked up on was that not only can I not drink alcohol for the 7 days that I am taking the medicine but that I'm not allowed to drink for 3 days afterwards either. Oh my.

This is where the anniversary dinner comes into play. My medicine will be done on Monday night and our anniversary is Wednesday night. I figured I'd email my Aunt Lin - who is a brilliant pharmacist - and get her take on whether or not we should move our anniversary dinner. Here is her reply:

Don't drink alcohol !!!! I think I'd move the anniversary dinner back a few days just to be on the safe side. If you still have any left in your system you could get violently sick to your stomach.

Happy Anniversary !!

Violently? Um, okay.

And I love how she followed up "violently sick" with a cheery "Happy Anniversary!"

Needless to say we'll be moving the dinner reservation.

Unintended consequences

The good news: The patch I put in the pool during my little swim last week is still holding and looks to be hanging in there for the long haul.

The bad news: My little swim in the untreated pool - and subsequent long hot bath - resulted in a delightful little bacterial infection on my person.

No good deed goes unpunished.

What a difference 8 years makes

Birth stats: 6 lbs, 13 oz. / 19 inches

8-year physical stats: 67 lbs / 52 inches

Message from Jake's school

To all of our parents,

There has been a confirmed case of H1N1 Flu in this school.

In order to minimize the spread of the virus, we have installed hand sanitizer machines in all of our classrooms and by the entrances.

Please be sure to sanitize your hands when entering and exiting the center. With your assistance, we may be able to lessen the spread of the virus.

Thank you.

Internet, I'd like you to meet my dummy. Dummy, this is the Internet.

Last night Lincoln and I took a CPR class at the local hospital. Lincoln was a good parent (as we've already established) and took a course when Hannah was first born but I'm only getting around to it 7 1/2 years later. Thank God nothing has happened to our kids in the meantime. (I'm obviously renewing my campaign for Mother of the Year today.)

Here is a picture of my dummy's face. We had to share the body of a dummy but we each got our own face. It was sort of funny to have to put on and take off your victims face everytime you saved them.

Terrible flashback

Today when I went into the oral surgeon's office to have my stitches taken out I was taken into a different exam room than the one where I had my preliminary visit and my surgery.  Sitting in the corner of the room was a large TV with a DVD/VCR.  This immediately triggered a terrible flashback for me.

In January 2001, when I was eight weeks pregnant with Hannah, I had to have my appendix removed.  While in Singapore on business I had appendicitis and checked into the hospital. When I woke up from surgery there were four color photos and a VHS tape on the bedside table. Apparently they were little mementos from my surgery, courtesy of my doctor (who had a minor God complex which I later discovered).  The four pictures were of my insides during the laparoscopic surgery.

I checked out of the hospital on Friday morning and had to go to the doctor's office on Saturday to have my incisions checked before I flew home on Sunday.  I actually don't think they were stitches.....I'm pretty sure they were "glued" shut.  Anyway, I don't remember because all I can remember from that appointment was the fact that the doctor made Lincoln and me (Lincoln flew over to Singapore when he found out I was going to have surgery) sit down and watch the video with him.  Yes, we were forced to watch the video of him cutting out my appendix while listening to him talk about what a brilliant man he was and how had he slipped even a little bit he would have punctured my slowly growing uterus.  He even made sure to point out my uterus and how close the scope passed by.

Needless to say, seeing that TV and VCR today gave me the chills.

All clear - part 2

I had my follow up appointment with the oral surgeon today to get back the results of my biopsy and to have my stitches taken out.  After some latin-based words and additional doctor lingo she told me that my results were "completely benign".  Apparently some "foreign material" that she suspected was part of an old filling, had become lodged in my gums.  The tissue tried to grow over the foreign material and when it didn't heal the lesion was formed over it in reaction to the tissue not healing around the filling.

So......no cancer for Lincoln or me!!!!  Lincoln suggested we celebrate tonight by going tanning and having a cigarette.

Am I missing something?

Everything in the news these days is about the swine flu.  Everyone is in quite the uproar over the possibility of this pandemic and running around thinking the world is going to come to an end and all of North America is going to be wiped off the map.  Am I missing something?  I don't understand the concern.  Every flu season 36,000 people die from the every day, typical, "traditional" flu.  So far less than 200 people have died from the swine flu.  On top of that, it's curable.  It's not like mad cow disease where once you have it you're fucked.  Scientists have identified the strain and it can be treated if people go to the doctor in time.  Is it just because we didn't anticipate this and therefore people are all freaked out?  Is it just because people don't realize that thousands of people die from the flu each year?  Is it because there is nothing else exciting to report on these days on all those 24 hour news channels?  I realize that it's typically older people that die from the traditional flu whereas this is hitting people more in the young to middle age range but couldn't that be because people in those age groups think "oh, I just have the flu, I'll stay home and rest and I'll get better" and therefore they aren't going to the doctor like they should?  Most of these deaths have been in Mexico and as far as I know there has only been that one 23-month old toddler that died in the U.S. so far.  Couldn't that be because Mexico is still considered a developing country.  I've only been to Tijuana and that was about 20 years ago so I don't have a lot to base it on but I'm guessing they probably don't have the same accessibility, availability, and attitude toward health care as we do in the United States.

This reminds me a lot of when SARS was a big story.  That was another "Oh my God the world is going to end and Asia will be wiped off the map" story and then it just disappeared from the news cycle when the next big thing came along.

Like I said, am I missing something?