The day start with some nice sharp stabbing pains, I woke up to the alarm at 6, turned it off, went to sit up and got these awful horrible pains, I woke my bf up panicking, they only lasted about a minute until I could sit up then stand up and carry on with the shitty treadmill on 10mph that I feel my life is atm.
Been agonising over whether or not I can carry on with my voluntary work at the prison but I finally bit the bullet tonight and e-mailed them telling them that I can't do it anymore, for now. I can't juggle work, one voluntary job, the other voluntary job, my university night class ontop of being very unwell and babysitting every week, just can't do it, too many balls in the air and I'm burning out. This morning and yesterday morning both days I nearly fell asleep at the wheel on the way to work in sheer exhaustion. It must be the drugs, amitryptaline is known to make people drowsy, as is the other drug, so the combo is probably just knocking me for six. I can't risk nearly crashing every morning on the way to places, it's too dangerous. Every time I came to a decision for or against quitting the prison, I talked myself round to the other position. On one hand I love doing it, I feel like I'm making a real direct difference, I'm getting valuable experience for my future career and most of all I feel like it's the right thing to do. On the other hand I'm just too tired, no two ways about it, and something has to drop, and I don't want to drop my uni class as it's in Counselling Skills which I need for any future jobs in that area anyway. So something had to give, and I finally sent them an email tonight. I know they'll understand but I feel really fucking rotten dropping out of it, as if I'm lazy or I can't be bothered anymore, I'm shit at self care, I always push myself too hard. At least now I'll have a little bit more time to myself to recuperate and sleep etc.
The NHS are sinking to even deeper levels of absolute fuckwittery, I called the PCT yesterday to find out why I'd been rejected treatment and what they meant by 'if you have any further evidence, please send it to be reconsidered'. They said that emails to the Professor who specialises in this treatment had contained questions which weren't answered. So I got in touch with the guy I deal with who introduced me to the Professor (you can't just get straight to the relevant person of course, you have to go through their secretaries or other people). This guy was initially helpful and promising back when I met him over six months ago, but now is getting snappy and acting like I'm a nuisance. So I asked him which questions they were, and he looked it up, and they are SIMPLE FUCKING QUESTIONS I COULD HAVE ANSWERED relating to the 'treatment plan' the guy in Birmingham put together for me, with 'I recommend she have the sacral nerve neuromodulation therapy' at the end. This plan was amitryptaline (might be helping, hard to say, but definitely isn't helping enough), physiotherapy (got a letter saying it isn't available in my area) and diet changes. They want to know what brand of laxatives I'm on, too. So instead of calling me up and asking me this stuff, they didn't respond, and so I got rejected. The wanker on the phone even said 'you won't get this treatment' 'we're not going to get anywhere with the PCT board' 'there's no point trying' and other helpful phrases. I told him I'm not going to quit because I have no other option, and he told me not to put all of my eggs in one basket as it may not work even if I'm approved. I nearly fucking exploded down the phone, all my eggs in one fucking basket? I've had an egg in every fucking basket going, the THREE cystoscopies, the laparoscopy, the MRI scan, the NERVE BLOCK (aka spinal tap) without anaesthetic, the kidney ultrasound, the 12 week series of agonising bladder instillations, the gabapentin, pregabalin, dosulepin, amitryptaline, tramadol, norfloxacin, trimethoprim, ketamine, mefanamic acid, buscopan. It's not like I'm going for this invasive, unusual and painful treatment for fun. I literally wanted to strangle him. They sent the letter to my GP, so I now have to make an appt with him (this one specific GP who doesn't work on my days off), and get him to write them a letter answering all of those questions. But they'd NEVER have come to me directly or even told me anything further if I hadn't have chased it up. You know what seems sick, the fact that the ill, in pain person is the one who has to do all of the fighting, the chasing, the putting their foot down, while they do everything they can to put you off pursuing it further. So that's the next plan. And every day I get to be in pain, to get shooting pains when I sit down at work, to grit my teeth when I pee, to have zero sex life, to wake up to stabbing pains, to get bladder infection after bladder infection after bladder infection after bladder infection until I'm chewing on my arm taking ketamine and morphine to try and dull the pain.
Then on the way back from work while sat at red lights (and not likely to make it through them on the next green), I sat and looked at a text on my phone under the wheel while I was completely still with the handbrake on. I heart beeping, shouting, etc. but didn't think anything of it, until it carried on and I looked round, some guy in one of those big size taxis in the passenger seat had the window open and was screaming at me through it, over the driver, practically frothing at the mouth and spitting, saying GET OFF YOUR FUCKING PHONE WHILE YOU'RE DRIVING YOU STUPID BITCH, GET OFF THE PHONE NOW OR I'LL COME ROUND AND KICK YOUR FUCKING FACE IN, GET OFF THE PHONE YOU STUPID BITCH, GET OFF YOUR PHONE NOW, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU. I laughed at him, gave him the finger and mouthed 'wanna come and sit on this?' then carried on doing what I was doing while he carried on screaming and shouting, I wasn't gonna let him see that it had affected me, the stupid cunt, I have no idea why he was doing that other than a) he was insane b) plain nasty or most likely c) was doing it to every driver who used a phone just for a laugh, but it made me blood run ice cold to suddenly have this public attack and out of nowhere feel this vitriol spew out towards me, it was fucking horrible, made me really shakey and feel weird. So that was just a great way to drive home.
Had a counselling session on Monday which was an absolute joke, the counsellor self disclosed SO much (which you're not really supposed to do at all), I learnt all about her miscarriage of twins, the fact she conceived twins again immediately, that her third baby was a surprise that she wasn't happy about as her husband was away working, the marriage wasn't in a great shape, and she hated the baby until he was born but now she wouldn't be without him. I heard all about how she gets migraines, is diabetic, has Bell's palsy, how she can't take codeine because it makes them worse so only takes Syndol, to which I said 'actually, that contains codeine' but she wouldn't have it, so I told her that my mum was seriously addicted to Syndol, to which she barked 'well enough of your mother, what about you?' when it was the only segue I could grab onto to actually talk about what was on my mind, it was just unbelievable. Then she wrapped the session up early, I tentatively asked what got her into the profession and she rambled on for another fifteen fucking minutes about how she'd been a dinner lady then someone had asked if she wanted to do it, and she's always been the sort of person who will look at an opportunity presented to her and do it if she likes the sound of it, repeating herself throughout the whole thing. Jesus Christ. I eventually just stood up, got my bag and said 'well I'll see you in a fortnight', but I won't, gonna email her and sack it off because she's shit and I have other things to be doing with my time, I get more out of a conversation with my rat than I did speaking to her. I brought the experience to our class tonight and the tutor was pretty aghast at what she heard, at least it was a good example of how not to be a counsellor for us all.
Ball of negativity, me? Can you fucking blame me right now?
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