Healing

It’s been five days since my last post. I’m proud to say I am better. Feeling better too. I get to go home today and I am equally excited and nervous. The last few times I went home I would have a couple of hazy few days then get sent right back into the spiral of a 6 hour ER visit+ wait turned into a hell-scape of pain and anxiety, turned into them drawing a copious amount of blood, stuffing me full of fluids till I pop ,then sending me for scans etc. So to say I have some PTSD is… understated. The last homestay being the worst considering I was stabbing myself 4 times a day every 6 hours with a burning hot fluid that made me break out with a reaction , had so many meds it was almost impossible to keep up with, and was getting only 5 hours increment of sleep because of the timing of the medications.

This time. It’s going to be different. Even though there is always the thought I’m going to pop a fever and end up right back where I’m started, I have to believe this will be different. They’ve kept me in here until my numbers were almost stable , we have a treatment plan going forward, I don’t have to stab myself all the time and I am okay. I will be okay.

I have decided to look at this as a great learning time to explore who I am. To turn this into a journey of deep exploration . I know…. pretentious right. But whatever mindset I need to get through this , is the one I am going to have. I learned that my dark hole of mental problems had been sped up by my paradoxical and beautiful relationship( said with the most intense sarcasm ) Ativan. READ BELOW ( I’m not gonna cite this because well… this isn’t school and I don’t have to 🙂 )

Benzodiazepine treatment can sometimes result in paradoxical reactions in susceptible individuals causing an increase in anxiety, agitation, hallucinations at the onset of sleep, aggressiveness, hyperactivity, irritability, hyperactive behavior, insomnia and exacerbation of seizures in epileptics.

That plus high dose steroids and 50mg of Benadryl took me right down a rabbit hole that I was horrified I was never going to get out of. But I am, surely but steadily, which gives me hope that I won’t be in this brain fog haze that all these hospital stays have put me in forever. They have tapered me off of the higher dose of steroids, Zolofted me up and given me a new anti-anxiety medication that helps with sleep and well obviously anxiety. Its hard to differentiate between my mind and the medications sometimes, which is something I am also going to have to figure out, but I can and will do it. Because I have to.

Fertility

oooh la la all the hot gossip. Yeah I want to have kids. I love them. I believe my sole purpose on this Earth was to raise beautiful children and become a loving mother. I’ve always noted that It was one of my worst fears to never be able to have kids. I never thought I’d actually have to face that problem so early in life. While they say to never plan your life out I have had a rough draft going for a bit. I wanted to graduate around 2025, now that has changed but that’s ok, maybe get married when I ‘m 23-24, then have kids around 26-28. I don’t know, not something to live by but something I wanted to follow. Following the bone marrow transplant there is a good chance I will become infertile. Meaning it’s now or never to save anything I have. Or at least I think, I don’t know about the whole process yet but it is unnerving. My Mother is adopted, and I am ever so grateful that she was. Adoption though isn’t something I want to do, necessarily. Being adoptive parents comes with a slew of things that I don’t think I have the capability to handle. Adoption isn’t for everyone either, no need to feel bad about it. But If I truly wanted to become a mom then… why wouldn’t I choose to save someone like my grandparents chose to save my Mom. Right now I don’t want to dwell on anything that will darken my mindset even further, so for now I will tuck it into my corner full of concerns of the future.

Here we go