Ariel's Two Cents

 I've been in a dark place for a few days.  I haven't been able to find the words to write about it, so I'm going to try to do so now.  I may end up deleting this for the 5,430,503rd time this week.  Who knows... Back in 2021, I was seeing a psychiatrist through MultiCare.  She was treating me for bipolar disorder but apparently, she thought that I had BPD (borderline personality disorder) , also.  She never discussed it with me.  She simply wrote it in the notes of my medical chart, clearly not realizing that I read everything that has my name attached to it.  She never had a single conversation with me about the possibility of a new diagnosis.  It was sneaky and behind-my-back and I don't like people that move like that.  I need to be able to trust my providers to communicate with me when there is an issue.  I stopped seeing her after that incident and ran from that diagnosis ever since. Last month, my meltdowns started to become...

 I had an important appointment yesterday afternoon.  I met with my urogynecologist's Nurse Practitioner, Katrina Whipple.  It was my first time meeting with her, so my anxiety was through the roof.  In fact, my anxiety was so bad that I had a massive meltdown in the morning while trying to get ready for my day.  I knew that I was going to have to tell this doctor all about my past trauma, both sexual and medical.  Both forms of trauma are pertinent to this appointment as it affects Interstitial Cystitis in a big way.  Every time I have anxiety or get upset, I have an instant bladder flare.  It's like clockwork, every single time.   When the nurse was checking me in and doing my vitals, I let her know that my blood pressure might be elevated due to my medical anxiety and past trauma.  At that point, I told her some of the minor details of my abuse by medical providers.  She was very compassionate and had empathy for what I hav...

 Hope... It's a strange concept to me, as a pessimist, to believe that things are going to be okay, yet that is precisely the feeling I have been left with lately.  Hope scares me because all too often, the good things in life have been taken away from me.  I'm afraid to grow accustomed to the good things existing in my life for fear that they may be taken away from me.  I have lived this way all my life.  I don't know why I'm like this or why I look at the world the way that I do.  It's just me and I can't help it.   Two weeks ago, I had an appointment with my new rheumatologist, and she informed me that my former diagnosis was not correct.  She corrected it to show Systemic Sclerosis Sine Scleroderma and told me that I would need more frequent testing.  The thought of more frequent testing, quite frankly, makes me sick to my stomach.  I have severe medical anxiety and test days are almost always the worst ones for me.  I just...

 It's time for an autoimmune update post!  I saw my primary care doctor, Cassandra, yesterday afternoon.  I had to update her on so many different things that I nearly forgot half of it.  Thankfully, Michael was at the appointment with me, so he was able to make sure the things that I forgot about would be mentioned.  This is why it is critically important for support people to be allowed into these appointments.  Most of us with autoimmune disease also have some form of brain fog at the same time.  It's difficult to live with it and even more difficult to manage your chronic illnesses when you're dealing with brain fog, too. Before Cassandra left for a two-week vacation, she messaged me and told me to behave while she was away.  It was a perfectly normal comment for us as we tend to joke about my health and body always causing issues.  She always jokes with love in her heart, never to be mean, rude or disrespectful.  She knows when it'...

 The 4th of July has come and gone now and I'm ready to talk about it.  You see, the 4th of July is usually an awful day for me.  I have complex PTSD from years of trauma and abuse.  One of the many traumatic events I went through was what I call, "The Naked City Shooting", and it has been one of my biggest problems since the day of the shooting.  Immediately after the incident, the sound of fireworks would cause me to cry hysterically, much like a small child who is terrified of something.  It was embarrassing to live life this way, but what was I supposed to do?  How do you undo the damage of trauma?  If it was simple, therapists would not have a yearlong wait list to get services.   In anticipation of the noise, I typically take a clonazepam at around 6 or 7 pm on the night of the 4th of July.  The goal is to be so sedated that no noise wakes me up.  This usually does the trick, in conjunction with my other nighttime medic...

 It's time for an update post.  I saw my new rheumatologist today.  My friend from group took me and I was incredibly grateful for her help.  We met in Spokane, then she drove Michael and me to Coe'ur d'Alene, Idaho, to go to my doctor's appointment.  It was a nice drive with beautiful scenery.  Before today, I had never gone to Idaho.  There is currently a wildfire on the mountain out there, so we got to see a bit of that.  Scary stuff, really.  Firefighters were ambushed on that mountain yesterday.  It's made national news.   We found the medical office with no trouble at all, not that I'm surprised.  My friend knows the area better than I do, plus we had the use of technology to guide our way.  I would be so lost with my digital maps on the phone.  I get lost coming out of the bathroom.  Maps are necessary everywhere I go.  We got to the appointment quite a bit early, but I would rather be an hour e...

 I had an awful start to my day, and it has left its mark on me.  I only slept for about 3 - 4 hours before I woke up with a bout of painsomnia, which is one of my most hated symptoms.  Painsomnia steals my sleep, my joy and my peace all in one swoop.  Today's episode was compliments of sleeping on my stomach, which causes severe back pain for me.  When I woke up, I could not feel my hips or parts of my legs.  I could not get up and out of bed to make my coffee, use the restroom, find my pain medication, or anything else that I might have needed at the time.  I did the only logical thing that one can do at 3 am in an emergency and I woke up my husband.  He begrudgingly got up and out of bed to help me.  Neither of us were in a particularly good mood at that ungodly hour, but he still made the coffee, got me my medication, then promptly went back to sleep.   Normally, I would spend the next few hours working on a writing project or s...