The Strength Inside – part II

I’ve been thinking of a way to approach the week after I hit my crossroads. When the ambulance dropped me off at the Antelope Valley Hospital I wasn’t sure what I was going to do or why I was there. I explained I had a bad infection [captain obvious], but I said nothing about my suicidal thoughts. So they did what they always do, hooked up my power-port, and filled me up with morphine. Then, of course, they started a treatment of antibiotics. I was in and out and of it and was feeling pretty good with the morphine. At some point, and this is where gets hazy, a doctor that I had not yet met, showed up in my room.

And so it begins…

He was completely shaven, bald as a billiard. Tanned skin and quite good looking. It was very obvious the man takes very good care of himself. But, then he pissed me off…for a minute. He proceeded to ask me why I was there. WTF, look at my pee bag dude, it’s dark as fuck. Yes, I said that. He then asked me ‘why I did not go to my doctor since obviously it had been this way for a while’. I just looked at him like, seriously?!! Then he kept asking me over and over again, why was there, why now, why was I there, why now!!! Those who know me, know I do not like to be pressured or put on the spot. So I looked at him like he was fucking crazy and an asshole for asking me that over and over again. Then, he asked me again, ‘WHY ARE YOU HERE!!! I snapped, and 21 years of my MS diagnosis came out like verbal diarrhea, 21 years of frustration came pouring out. I was screaming at that point… ‘Do you want to know why I’m here, do you really want to know!’ I was screaming and crying telling him, “FINE… I wanted to kill myself is that what you want to hear. I was 32 years old with 3 babies under 3 when I was dx’ed. Why did God forsake me?!! Now I’m 53, and my kids have never known me well. Now, I’m paralyzed from the waist down and for the last 4 1/2 years years completely bedridden. Now my arms stopped working. I told my my family when my arms go, I’m going too!! I could hear my daughter asking me if I was going to go now? My family is dying because of this disease because it has taken over my house. My family will be better off without me! I’m a burden and all the doctors did was throw me in bed and drugged me up and ripped open my stomach because nobody wanted to help me. Instead they threw a colostomy and a urostomy bag on me and left me in the bed to die. My husband is dying inside my children are dying inside because nobody gave two shits about us, no doctor wants to really help us! I didn’t go to the doctor because I can no longer afford a caregiver and I had no one to drive me!” As I was screaming I didn’t realize that there were about 20 people in the room and people walking by. I just kept screaming how I was thrown away and nobody cared. It was easier for the doctors to just put me in bed because that’s what primary progressive MS does. You just progress and then you die. I’m sure I looked a sight, as I was ugly crying. I know that snot was running all down my face and most likely in to my mouth. I know, I know…TMI! This guy called me on my shit, no one does that!! And how did he know? How did he see my pain and how did he know I wanted to end my life? How did he know why I was really there?

Then, silence. I was breathing so fast and looking around the room. Some were crying, some just looking at me like they wanted to hug me. Someone handed me a lil’ box of tissues. Then his voice broke the silence. He said, “We’re going to make you happy again.” I looked at him like he was crazy. Didn’t he know, I have primary progressive multiple sclerosis, there is nothing he can do to help me or make me happy again. He smiled and said he’d be back. A few minutes later a woman entered the room. She was the psychiatrist on call. She looked at me and said, “You never sleep, do you?” I looked at her and said, “No.” She looked at my file saw that I was on Effexor and explained she would leave me on that, but she was going to add something else. Something that would, help me sleep and make me happy again. I looked at her like she was crazy too. I didn’t think they understood what they were dealing with. Dr. Muscles [I’m trying to find his real name] came back in the room to see how I was doing after my meltdown. I just looked at him and said, “Thank you.”

The next doctor he sent my way, changed my life!

Part 3 tomorrow. Sorry if my writing is not perfect. I never said I was a writer. LOL

Have Courage and Be Kind