Pain level: 5
Welcome to the pain level recording. It is a suggestion from someone that I record my pain level each day so that I can see the changes based on meds, exercise, etc. The hard thing about recording a number is that I can fluctuate between several numbers in a day. Today, for instance, I was tired but not so sore initially; now I'm battling a migraine and my back hurts.
I went to meet my new psychiatrist today. I'm going to know everyone in this area of the country by the time I finish with all these doctors. Interestingly enough, I asked for Dr. Charles D., and was somehow switched to his wife, who also practices psychiatry in the same building. I answered her questions to the best of my ability, which wasn't very pleasant. I cried, as expected, She suggested Wellbutrin because it tends to give people more energy. I suggested Cymbalta because hey, it's what every other fibro doc has said I should be on. So I walked out with two weeks' samples of cymbalta.
Once again, a doctor has given me the old, "You can't take care of others if you don't take care of yourself" bit. Woo hoo. She said, firmly, "You do understand that, right?" to which I laughed and replied, "I think that's far easier said than done."
Yes, I'll remember that when one of my children is in trouble, when my father falls over because his balance is shot, when my mother asks me to pick up a ton of shit for her and when my husband is having surgery on his foot. I'll keep it in mind when I am busting my ass at a part time job with no insurance and the hubs isn't working. At anything. And especially when somebody is sick or hurt and I'm the only logical adult in the house.
All of the whining and crying is annoying, not just to her, but to me as well. You think I don't have to choke back what little pride I have left to answer these stupid questions? Life would be so much easier if I could just write a basic autobiography ONE time and read it to each doctor. Better yet, fax it over, and then I'll never have to worry about it again.
By the way, if you didn't already know that most people who have anxiety, depression, and pain as adults were abused as children, it's true. And it doesn't grow more fun to talk about as you get older.
The crying has given me the start of a migraine. More than that, it's made me irritable. There is nothing joyful in visiting a psychiatrist, especially one you have to lead around with a ring through the nose because they're not familiar enough with your diagnosis to help. Of course, a month from now I may be eating my words as I swallow Wellbutrin happily and run a 5K with all my extra energy.
Ugh.
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