Change of Plans

I had hoped to be recovering in respite care today but, like most things, this did not go according to plan. On Monday, my nurse called me to say that the bed was available from next Wednesday so I'd have to wait another week. Even though she hoped I'd be better by then, she said it would still be a good idea to go as I really needed the break. At the time, I was really angry, I'd got my hopes up as I knew that a few days somewhere else with people keeping an eye on me would probably do me the world of good. Looking at it now, I think I may benefit even more as I am slightly better and therefore more aware of what works for me.

This week has been a bit of a struggle. When my nurse visited me, she booked me a GP appointment as my mouth felt like I'd been eating broken glass (not that I'd actually tried that) and I was only able to eat bananas and yogurt. The medication they've put me on has really knocked me for six so I was unable to drive to the doctor and had to use a walking stick to help me keep my balance which made me feel old and sick. As it was an emergency appointment, I had no say in which doctor I saw and so I ended up seeing the one that I really don't like seeing. i know I wasn't totally on the ball but that was no excuse for him to pretty much ignore what I was saying to him. I tried to tell him that my blood sugar levels have been constantly raised since New Year but he was more interested in telling me to make a proper appointment for a diabetes and blood pressure check. As he gets more money if my health reaches certain targets and if I do certain tests, I'm like a little gold mine for him so I felt he should treat me with much more respect.

I'm not sure if it's a side effect of all my medications or just my illness, but my memory is very poor at the moment. I can't believe that it's already Friday and, if you asked me, I couldn't tell you what I've been doing all week apart from watching tv and listening to music in the early hours of the morning because I can't sleep. The not sleeping is really starting to bother me as it throws the whole day out of sync. It's not a proper not sleeping as I do eventually manage to fall into a very deep drug induced sleep which knocks me out until lunchtime. Yesterday, for example, I didn't wake up until after 1p.m. and even then I could have slept for a few more hours. Today, I had to be up at a reasonable time as I had a home visit and I didn't want to still be in bed when the male nurse, who's covering my usual nurse, turned up.

Given that he's not worked with me in a therapeutic way before, we had a fairly productive session although I felt that there were a few things he didn't quite understand about me and how this particular relapse has affected me. Inevitably, the question of the weekend came up along with how I'm going to spend my time and what will I do if I start getting into real trouble. Luckily, I have my one good friend who's been incredibly supportive through all this and she will be coming over to see me tomorrow. Everyone needs a friend like this who will provide home cooked meals and who doesn't mind the long silences when I drift away. Friendship is a difficult thing for me to understand but I do know she's one in a million especially when I call her in the early hours of the morning because the voices are getting too much.

Much as I hate taking medication, I have to confess it does seem to be working. The voice that I was hearing tends to be more muffled for most of the day and the suicide/self harm images are fewer and further apart. Not being able to drive has its good points, I'm saving money on fuel and if I'm not going out, I won't be spending money. If only I can get to grips with feeling like a zombie for most of the day and master my high blood sugar levels.

Social terrors

Last night I attended the diabetes group social evening. It's been a while since I've been to one of their social evenings and under normal circumstances I would have missed this one as well but for the fact that it was hosted by my friend. Over the last year or so our relationship has really progressed and I'm learning how relationships with other people work in a practical way rather than sitting in a group psychotherapy session. Anyway, I felt sorry for her (empathy, a new experience for me!) as it sounded like she was having to do all the preparation on her own as someone else had let her down.

I knew that if I arrived there early, I wouldn't have to deal with the stress of driving in traffic and not being able to park plus, I could use the amount of time I'd already been there as an excuse to leave early. I'd set myself up with a couple of tasks to do as people arrived so I wouldn't have to stand around chatting to people (social small talk is still a mystery to me and makes me panic) and I found myself racing from door to bar as I let people in and then offered them their first drink. This was quite a big step for me as I'm an alcoholic who's currently dry, but I thought I was in a good enough place to deal with it and I'm more aware of when I'm heading for trouble which is when I would step away from the bar.

Everything seemed to be going fine until it was announced that the food was going to be served. For some reason, I felt my mood crash into my boots and I sneaked off into the garden where I hid for at least half an hour hoping to use the "I'm just having a cigarette" line if anyone said anything. I knew I really should be eating something as I'd not had much all day and my sugar levels were probably dropping quite low but my evil voice wouldn't let me. He kept telling me that I wasn't allowed to eat because I hadn't paid my money (things are very tight at the moment) and if I ate in front of everyone, they would see what a disgusting pig I was and that someone like me shouldn't be eating.

The pathetic child in me took over and accepted the punishment. I wanted to just leave and go home but it meant walking through the house to collect my coat and keys and I couldn't face what seemed like a huge crowd (even though there were no more than 40 people there). Someone did eventually call out to me and ask if I wanted to eat but I just said no, I didn't want to and hoped it would be left at that although I didn't think I could last right to the end as it was cold and damp outside. Fortunately, my friend came out and she realised that I was really struggling (I think the tears gave it away). One of the signs of a good friend is someone who can recognise and understand when someone is on difficulty and who can help put things right. I tried to dig my heels in about not eating but she kept telling me that I really did need to eat and gave me a couple of options for eating on my own so I agreed to come inside and have something to eat.

This helped improve my mood although I lurked in the kitchen for the rest of the evening and ended up tackling the washing up (not something I tend to do at home!) as I'm always happier when I've got a task to do if there are a lot of people around. I ended up surviving to the end of the evening and I'm really glad that there was someone there who understood what was going on and was able to deal with me in a calm manner which works far better than having someone ordering me around or telling me to "grow up".

I have mixed feelings about the whole evening, I was pleased with my ability to deal with people as they arrived and pouring out drinks without being too tempted (thanks to whole lot of CBT and continued medication). However, I was caught out by my reaction to eating in front of people and my fear of being in room full of people and trying to do the social chat so that still needs quite a bit of work. Overall, though, I think I did well and I couldn't have made it to the end of the evening without the care and support of a good friend.