Pscyhobabble

Cast:

Renee - Patient in need of therapy

Dr Red* - Psychiatrist appointment to meet Renee and determine if her mental health case file should be reopened.

Setting:

Tuggeranong Mental Health.

Time:

2:30pm (1430), 24th February 2010.

Enter Renee and Dr Red

Dr Red suggests Renee should sit down in one of the chairs he offers. Renee is clearly uncomfortable especially when Dr Red tries to shake her hand. Her confusion comes across as agression with a look of complete distaste crossing her face.

Dr Red doesn't notice this silent emotional turmoil, instead he proceeds to sit down.

Dr Red then asks Renee a few questions. Renee's face doesn't show her anger towards this person and the system, instead she liberally applies her mask of "I am okay, I'm fine, I don't know what is wrong with you people".

The questions range from why Renee should be having the appointment, how many people in her immediate family, how does she get along with family members to feelings and emotions, goals and plans for the furture. All of Dr Red's questions are met with resistance and hostility. Renee was clearly frustrated having been through all these preliminary questions before.

Dr Red is clueless and has a difficult time trying to decide how best to treat this unique (and slightly scary) patient. He would very much like to ask her to leave, however, he can't do that due to his profession and his cultural background. He knows this and he also realises that Renee also knows this. He feels trapped.

Dr Red continues asking questions, this time he asks about Renee's thoughts to do with Tuggeranong Mental Health. Renee does not hold back.

Renee: I have no faith in the system.

I was told when I first came here, I wouldn't be forgotten.

I was told no one would give up on me.

I was also told that I could contact my case manager, my shrink and/or anyone else here.

No one has returned my calls, emails or sms for four months.

The last time I saw anyone was before I went to St. John of God in Sydney.

After the disasterous turn of events in Sydney I needed to come back to support.

Instead I come back to a closed case file, no word from my psychiatrist and no support.

I do not trust this system nor the people working in it.

Dr Red is clearly taken aback by this honest, heartfelt and slightly angry explanation. He suddenly begins to realise the depth to which this patient has been neglected and tries desperately to find something that would help her. Dr Red asks Renee more questions, what would she like to see happen? who would she like to treat her? what would she like the outcomes to be?

Renee rolls her eyes and sighs. Each question has been asked to her a thousand times before by a thousand different psychologists, psychiatrists, psych ward nurses and social workers. Renee responds in a manner that make Dr Red pause. She explains that as she has no faith in the system she is looking interstate for a better support program. Renee continues to explain at length that she will move to the place with the best mental health system as Canberra's mental health system is incredibly pathetic and is doing more damage than good.

Dr Red stops writing his notes and changes the subject. He remembers that Renee's case manager wanted to also see her. Dr Red quickly explains that he needs to find Renee's case manager and then leaves the room.

Renee looks out the window, visibly shaking now as the panic takes over. She would never show this inept Dr Red her true emotions and she knows that all he will get from this visit is anger and hostility. Renee can hear other patients in the waiting room as they talk quietly with each other, her thoughts begin to drift to things she knows she's not meant to be thinking about, especially while in mental health. She begins to daydream about how she would vanish, disappear, cease to exist. Renee thinks about how fantastic it would be not to have to deal with any more centrestink people, mental health people, or having to explain to anyone why she feels the way she does.

Eventually Renee's daydream is interrupted as Dr Red returns with the news that the case manager is out. He asks Renee if she'd like to wait for her case manager to return. Renee looks at the incredibly stupid doctor and tells him that she will not wait, she is having a panic attack and would very much like to go home. He stares at her. Renee realises this psychiatrist has probably never seen someone hide their emotions so completely before. She shakes her head slightly and wonders who's brilliant idea it was to see this inept psychiatrist.

Finally, Dr Red makes the necessary motions that release Renee from the appointment. He makes one last comment about finding out what he can do to help and how someone will contact Renee at some point. Renee nods and leaves, obviously thinking that this man is an idiot.

As Renee waits for the lift to go back down to her car and finally leave the place she refers to as "hell", she realises that the last 30 minutes were a complete waste of time. Nothing was achieved. There was no goal other than for Mental Health to determine if they'd like to reopen her case file. Renee feels an intense anger and frustration for being made to go along to these silly appointments when there is no need.

Renee drives home, hoping all the way that someone would crash into her car and kill her. She is just so sick of people lying to her, she's unable to cope with all the broken promises and all the people (mental health as well as friends) who say they'll be there for her and then, when the time comes, they are scattered everywhere else ignoring her request for help.

She makes it home in one piece. Physically, not mentally.

* name has been changed to protect the psychiatrist mentioned in this blog.

Through the Looking Glass

I had a very ghastly day. To be honest I'm in need of many hugs that may just result in one super long hug.

Today was centrestink form day. So I presented at centrestink with my form. The welcome lady tells me "you're payments have been suspended". I very nearly died on the spot. The lady tells me to go sit down, as if the colour hadn't drained from my face.


I go and sit down and wait. After about ten minutes of waiting a centrestink dude calls out my name. I was in the middle of a tweet about how much I hate to wait and how much more I hate centrestink, but I jump up and nearly run (I don't do running) over to the dude's desk. This in itself is rather awesome since I've done something to my back and it's been killing me to walk. Anyway, back to centrestink dude.


Apparently my last medical certificate was declined, but no one told me before today. I know, you're thinking I got a letter that I didn't read or didn't answer a phone call, but I got nothing. Not a letter telling me my medical certificate wasn't accepted nor a phone call to say the same thing. Nothing. Silence.
So the dude tried to fix all these mistakes that were made. Kudos to him for trying. However, I had to explain, again, why I missed my last JAC (Job Capacity Assessment) appointment. I called them at the time and told them I was having a panic attack, blah blah blah.


So anyway, I begin having a panic attack while I was sitting at the centrestink dude's desk, but I can't just get up and run. He's asking me questions and is actually being helpful, also I would never make a scene. So I sit there in fear. Sweating. Shaking. Hardly able to breathe.


Finally he said it was all done and I could go. I pretty much ran (I need to stress there that I do not run) out the door, then remembered I had to go to Max Employment and give them a copy of my medical certificate. Damn.
I walk in and talk with the reception guy, he tells me that I will have to wait because the lady, who I would have seen for the appointment, will need to talk to me to confirm things.

I sit down and wait. My heart is beating out of my chest (okay, so that's kind of an impossibility but it still feels like it.) I still can't breathe. I'm still sweating. My whole body is shaking. I am wishing the bloody day was already over.


20 minutes later...

The lady comes out with a letter and their copy of my medical certificate. My next appointment with Max Employment will be when the certificate ends. She then tells ms that I need to get the DSP (Disability Support Pension) form from centrestink. Now, I have had job capacity assessments every few months for over a year and not once has anyone said I qualify for DSP (Disability Support Pension).

It's time like these I would really like to start banging my head against a wall. I'm sure I would get more information from doing that than talking with Centrestink, Max Employment and everything else in between.

Turbulent Friday

Friday started off like any other day. I woke up, I walked around the house wondering what I was doing and then I sat on the couch and played Bejeweled Blitz on my iPhone. I know, you're all terribly excited to witness the life of Renee.

Anyway, this particular day I knew I had to see my doctor. It was time for the "how are you going? But I don't really care, are your meds up to date?" visit. I always enjoy this visit, it's right up there with the centrestink visits.

To make myself feel better I thought I would spend some time teasing my hair, and no not the standing in front of the mirror cracking jokes about my hair. Just in case you were wondering. I spent a whole 20 minutes on my hair. It looked fantastic by the time I was done. Bits of hair sticking up everywhere, just the look that I like. But I'm off topic.

I drove myself to the doctor's surgery and waited until it was my turn. I walked in to the room when the dr man called my name. I sat down and the hell began.

Let's give my dr a name, Dr B sounds good enough. So, Dr B starts talking and as usual I rarely listen. He mainly repeats himself so I only respond when he asks me something new. This time it was different. After Dr B had finished asking the preliminary questions he started to talking to me about my local mental health place and how he thought it would be a good idea to get in contact with my old case manager. (I say old case manager because mental health closed my file last year in November when I went to a psych hospital in Sydney.)
Before I have the chance to think of some feeble way to get out of having to deal with some reality, Dr B picks up the phone and dials mental health. I'm stuck. I want to run away. I can't.

Dr B talked with my case manager explaining that he thinks I need to be reassessed as I'm worse than before, then put me on the phone to my case manager. I was told that I wouldn't be able to see my usual psychiatrist because the waiting list is about two months long. Instead I get to start again. Two years worth of work is now gone.

And don't you dare suggest it's not, when you have to start with a new psychiatrist you have to start from the beginning, again. It's not like a GP who reads your history, asks you a few questions and maybe does a physical. A new psychiatrist goes through your history, your feelings, emotions and everything else. They tamper with your medications, you have to explain things you've been over before, you have to learn to trust them. It's not an easy thing to do.

So, I crashed and burned after the doctor's appointment. I cried my eyes out. I realised that mental health and the professional team who were meant to be behind me and in my corner, weren't. They had given up on me. Suddenly I found myself in the too hard basket. I wasn't worth their time nor their help.

Now I have to wait until Wednesday to be reassessed and to start again. I'm still struggling with the whole situation and it's now Sunday. Sunday people.

Here's to yet another beginning. Here's to yet another disappointment and yet another fall. The hole gets deeper every time I fall in it.

Another Step, forwards or backwards?

I am terrified.

The edge of cliff is right there, just beyond my toes and I can see the merciless waves crashing against the sharply ragged rocks below. This is it.

Last night I enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts degree through Open Universities Australia. I can take up to ten years to complete my degree, which means I have plenty of time and don't have to face seeing a crowd of people who are just as nervous as me. I can do all my studying from home, or hospital should I need to be there. I can work as fast or as slowly as I'd like or can cope with.
Yet, I am terrified.

I am terrified because I've made a decision. There is something in making a decision that is permanent. It is final. The decision is made, the change is happening. Yes, the change is now imminent. Am I ready for this change? Will I be able to accept this change and learn? Or will I fall to pieces like I always seem to do and fail?

While being terrified is one part of my current psyche, the other part of me is similar to a child in a candy store! I want everything and can't wait to get stuck into all the delicious, sugary goodness! I want it now, now, damnit!

There are times I'd like to split myself in two and let each part run around equally like chickens with their heads cut off. Actually, that is a bad image, I personally don't really like the idea of a headless chook running around with blood and feathers exploding in a hundred different directions. Who comes up with these morbid images anyway? And people say Emo's are morbid.... *insert eye rolling here*

Anyway, the idea of splitting myself in two isn't an original one. Let's face it, there's the "boring bits" ad on tv currently. The only difference between me and the "boring bits" ad is that my whole life is boring, with the exception of my Twitter exploits. I'd like to say right now that if it weren't for Twitter I would probably be the most lonely person on the face of the planet.

Back to being terrified. How do you cope with something that is terrifying? I mean, there are people who jump right in and just get on with it. There are others who plan their way through a terrifying encounter. Then there are people like me who want to run, hide, scream, faint and everything else they can possibly do to avoid feeling the entire effect of being scared. I wouldn't recommend the latter as it's not only a bad way to lose weight (it doesn't work), but it puts a lot of stress on your body.

I am terrified.

Humiliated

I am dreading something that I have to do today. The thought of me dreading anything is so strange I'm sure you're all sitting there gasping for breath with the shock of it.
However, I am dreading having to deal with centrestink today. It's another appointment day where I have to "justify" myself and prove to them I am actually as crazy as I say I am. It is so humiliating.

Lately I have been pondering thoughts of cancelling all involvement with centrestink. The whole organisation treats me like a liar, they assume that I scum and am just too lazy to work. Hell, I've said before and I'll say it again, if you have a job you'd like to offer me where you don't mind that I may only turn up once a week or need to run and hide because I feel the grip of an anxiety attack.
I am sure there is a boss out there who love to have someone so unrealiable working for them. In fact, I should waste everyone's time and look for a job only to leave after three months. Yes, you're right organisation that is centrestink, I should be working no matter what.

I find this whole silly thing makes me so angry. I like to work. I like the feeling of accomplishment one gets when working. I like being "important" in some small. What I don't like; being told by centrestink that I do not like these things and that I just want money for nothing.

Today's appointment is all about the interviewer judging me. The person who I will see will look at me, take into account my appearance, how I talk and act. This person will write a report on their findings and will send that to some other department within centrestink.
I don't like acting or pretending to be something other than what I am. I lied to myself for 23 years about being sick, I will not lie about it now. I must admit, I do take some joy out of being blunt and telling the person who interviews me just what my frame of mind is. One lady actually sat at the desk with her jaw open, staring at me. All I can say is "hey Lady, you asked the question."

Having said all this, I contribute terribly to this dread as I do work myself into a lather of trepidation and anger due to their assumption I'm lying scum. I would sincerely love to say that what I have experienced is all lovely and they treat me with respect. Not one person that I have had the pleasure of dealing with at centrestink has treated me with respect or even with the decency of being professional. Instead, I am constantly met with rude employees, eye rolling, sighing, "you shouldn't be on this payment, why are you lying?" and other such horrible encounters. Is it any wonder I feel such acute anxiety when it comes to appointments with centrestink?

I have two hours before the appointment. Right now my stomach is a knot of muscles, my gallbladder is trying to leap out of my body and I'm breaking out in a cold sweat. I will stop writing now so I may administer some emergency anxiety controlling procedures. I sincerely hope it works otherwise I will definitely be labelled "loser scum of the Earth" by centrestink for not appearing at the appointment.

Bah Luvbug or Happy Valentine's

Usually I would hide under the covers and pretend today does not exist. I am usually more of a bah luvbug (thanks to @emlykd for that word!) kind of person. I know, you would never have guessed!

However, today the 14th February 2010 I am more of a Happy Valentine's Day kind of person. I have a Valentine this year. Indeed, something as small as having someone say to me "happy valentine's day" is able to make the corners of my mouth to twitch and eventually break into a grin to rival that of the Cheshire cat.

As humans we just want to be loved, whether we are loved by family, friends or a significant other. We crave that love, friendship and support that comes with someone being kind to us. I am no different, in some ways I'm more in tuned with that emotional side (even if it's not by choice!).

Having professed my love for being loved I'd like to make it clear I'm not so interested in the chocolate, flowers and presents that are apparently "required" on this day.
Personally, it is the thought that counts. It is the simplicity of someone saying to me "happy valentine's day" or wishing me well for this day.

So now I would like to share the love and wish everyone a lovely valentine's day! I hope everyone feels a little bit of happiness today, even if (like me) they are single.

The Day I Went Away

After spending the early afternoon wondering if anyone actually reads blogs on weekends, I decided I should catch up on all the blogs that I have not read yet. I have been a bad follower and have been neglecting my follower duties.
So I began from the top. I read about happiness, sadness, new technological updates and lots about what it's like to be a Mum! I cried, I laughed and I got angry along with the writers of the blogs! I fell in love, I fell out of love, I wondered why I bothered and I experienced being unsexy! Whatever you can imagine I have read about today.

Then as I was approaching the final blog in my reader list I felt some trepidation. Perhaps I already knew what was coming and that's why I felt the sudden clenching of stomach muscles?
I click on the blog. Inside my mini-reader-panel there are the gems that I had missed. But what is this? The last post was written 5 weeks ago! Surely I haven't been that neglectful?
I click on the first post I haven't read...

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!

Oh no... Please dear God no.
There is no more blog. The awesomeness that I was instructed to sit down before reading, is no longer.

I felt the air leave my lungs and no matter how much my brain screamed to inhale I could not. One of my favourite blogs is gone. Gone.
The word is still bringing up hysterical behaviour in my brain. The threat of forgetting to inhale and exhale is looming dangerously close.

What am I going to do now? How shall I get my fix of that which is awesome?

Surely this great tragedy affects the entire world? There is now no level of awesomeness to compare those that wish they were awesome to. Yes, this is me panicking. If you have a good imagination you could even hear me hyperventilating right about... now.

You Might Want To Sit Down For This... was one of the best blogs I was following. Indeed I would like to say it's one of the best blogs I have ever read. I enjoyed every minute of Rick's writing and his penchant for throwing in big words that I would desperately look up in my dictionary. Frantically, I would read every word he wrote, almost salivating over his precision and the delicacy with which he wrote. Now, that amazing blog of awesomeness is... *insert deep breath here*... Gone.

I am yet to decide just how I will endure without this blog as part of my daily (okay, so almost daily when I was being a good follower, oh just shut up!) reading. Nor am I sure what the future will hold without some of the most awesome blog posts in the history of blogs and posts.

Response from A SMOKER. God Forbid.

I feel that I need to say something here on behalf of those of use who are considerate, kind and try very hard to never be near an open door, a child or anyone else while they are (God forbid I write this) smoking.

I read a blog today about people smoking by hospital doors, smoking near children and other disgusting things. In the blog "So Now What?" the writer was clearly not happy with the inconsiderate people who abuse the "system". I am not saying I disagree with the points raised in the blog for I am not. I disagree with the comments made on the blog and the general assumption that every smoker is a nasty piece of work with absolutely no consideration. This general assumption is just horrid and I am appalled to be labelled among these people just because I dare to raise a cancerous-tobacco-filled-nicotine-ridden cigarette to my mouth and inhale it's toxic decadence.

Let me clearly state right here and now I do not think smoking is cool, I do not think it is health or good. I definitely do not think people should smoke around children or entrance ways.
Smoking is a disgusting habit and I am fully aware and agree wholeheartedly. This does not mean I will quit just because you don't like it.

No, indeed I won't quit because it would be detrimental to my health at this point. You see, as I explained in my comment on "So Now What?", I have this little problem with anxiety. This little problem means I forget to breathe and a lack of breathing can cause all kind of issues, including death. The reason that nasty little cigarette is good for me is due simply to this: upon smoking it I inhale and exhale in a normal rhythm which, in turn, means my anxiety reduces and I continue to live without any nasty side effects, like dying from no oxygen.
Yes, for all those of you who also have anxiety and don't need to rely on a cancerous, highly addictive form to continue breathing, I am able to utilise the breathing techniques taught to me by my psychologist. There are definitely ways around the anxiety without relying on the cigarette. I choose to use the cigarette when I find that the 30 - 40 minutes of repeatedly attempting breathing techniques is not working.

Now, I'd like to clearly point to everyone that I do not and will not smoke around children, especially within an enclosed area (ie. car). Children should not be exposed to many things, least of which is something as harmful as cigarette smoke. If I am out and I see children sitting near to where I was planning to sit to smoke, I will keep walking to find somewhere that is not inhabited by children or other people. Indeed, if I can not find anywhere and I know my anxiety is getting worse, I will hide in the toilets, put the lid of the toilet seat down and I will sit there, rocking until I can calm myself down to some extent. If you ever see a lady almost run to the toilet and you hear the crash and bang of the lid being slammed shut you can almost bet that it's me hiding out in the toilet desperately trying to calm down.
I completely support the laws that state smoking in a confined space with children present is illegal. It should be. Only idiots would jeopardise their children's health like that.

I have been known walk in another direction to the one I needed because I notice the wind change and did not want anyone else to be downwind of myself and my smoke. I've picked up stray cigarette butts that others have dropped because I feel guilty that they would be so disgusting and inconsiderate in their smoking habits. I carry a little ashtray with me that I use to put my butts in when I am not home so I don't leave a mess or a trace of my nasty little secret.
Why must I be so ashamed when I am the one going out of my way to make sure no one has to breath in my recently exhaled smoke?

As some of you are aware I have recently been spending a fair amount of time in hospital. While the hospital itself is actually a no smoking area there are places (away from the entrances) that one may smoke. I myself have found there are lazy, rude bastards who decide they can not and will not make their way to those areas because they may have to walk those extra 20 steps. If you are well enough to get up to have a smoke you can damn well walk those extra few steps so you're not infecting anyone else with your horrid affliction.
I don't usually smoke when I am at hospital (this does not include psych wards), and if I do smoke I will walk further away than the prescribed area and I make sure no one else is around. No, not because I am shamefully hiding my habit, because I don't want anyone else to be subjected to the smell of the ridiculous thing.

Surely I can not be the only person in the world who takes these considerations? Surely there are good stories of smokers who respect other people and their health and do things to make sure others are not affected by their smoke?

Again, I feel I should repeat, smoking is a disgusting habit. It stains your fingers, makes you smell and has the potential to cause you great harm. I would advise anyone not to smoke if they do not do so already. Please, take that from someone who does smoke. It's horrid.

So here I am, hopefully shining a light on the whole situation and maybe more people will realise they live in a world filled with people, not just themselves and their kids, and maybe, just maybe everyone will have a little more consideration for each other? Ha! Who am I kidding!

By the way, to those of you who like to hate smokers and insist that smokers blow their smoke in your face and you walk past, do you ever notice the smokers who step back and let you pass, while they hold their breath? Do you ever notice the smokers who put out their smoke upon your arrival? Do you notice the smokers who DO NOT stand in the doorways causing you such agony? No, I didn't think you did.

Rain, rain please don't go away!

I don't know why I write blogs on weekends. I suspect reading a blog is like working, we only do it Monday to Friday and presumably between the hours of 9 to 5. So having said that, here I am on a Saturday afternoon writing a blog.

I have nothing to particularly whine about today, other than the need to write a blog on a day when no one will read it. It's actually a lovely day for me. I'm sitting here with my laptop on my lap, coffee on the table and the window open so I can listen to the rain as it falls. Most people seem to whine that the rain is so terrible, that it ruins their day because they "can't go outside". People, have you not heard of an umbrella? Perhaps you may have heard of this new contraption that one wears to help waterproof us? I do believe it's called a "Rain Coat."
Personally, the rain is calming and tranquil. I love the feeling of peace I get when I can just sit and listen to it softly landing on the roof and hear it pool on the leaves of the horrid rose bushes outside my window. Granted, I am not one to enjoy getting wet (unless I'm having a shower, bath or am swimming in a pool!) so I don't always venture out into the lovely rain.

Each person is different, and I like to think that I can appreciate that aspect of everyone (there may be times when this does not apply, especially when someone does something incredibly stupid see current opposition leader and his reference to "virginity"). However, I find it rather irritating when people bitch and moan and whine about rain. Look around you, is the grass almost completely brown? Are the trees reaching out to us for water to save them? Are our water catchment areas running low? I am sure we can all answer yes to all of these questions, including a little creative imagining of trees screaming, so why is the rain so terrible when we obviously need it so much?

Perhaps, in all my wisdom, I have neglected to delve into the psyche of those rain-haters? There is a slight chance I would return from such a mind-delving-expedition with even less of a mind than I went in with. In other words, I think it would fry what little sense is left inside this head to even attempt to contemplate what a rain-hater sees.

Instead, I shall listen to the rain softly falling and let my mind wander to the millions of places that only a mind can go. I shall enjoy the coolness in the air, the crickets making their joyful rain tribute song (or maybe they're just trying to attract a mate?) and I will bask in the glory of knowing that the rain is welcome here and that should it return I will continue to welcome it with open arms. 

Emotional Merry-Go-Round

Sometimes I find myself wondering if I will ever be able to step off the merry-go-round. At times it spins so fast the word is nothing but a blur, speeding past too fast for me to be part of. Then it slows, almost to a stop, and I suddenly feel dizzy and fall down. However, I never seem to regain my composure fast enough to step off the ride before it all starts spinning again.

At this very moment the merry-go-round is at a standstill. I'm clinging to the bars so tightly because if I let go the dizziness will consume me. Yet, somewhere, in the back of my mind a logical voice tells me that if I let go I will be okay...

The merry-go-round came to a standstill during the very early hours of Sunday morning. I woke up due to a tremendous pain in the upper right quadrant of my torso. The pain was akin to what I imagine being stabbed would feel like.

Three hours pass and the pain is just as persistent as when I had woken up. The medication my doctor had told me to take was having no effect.
In the delerium of pain I managed to look at my phone, it was 3am. Time to wake up the parental unit and go to hospital.

I am still unsure how I managed to walk to parentals room or how I managed to then wake her up. All I am able to recall is asking her to drive me to the hospital.

The next four hours were a blur or lights, pain and then morphine.

Morphine. The opiate given to people to numb their pain.
Morphine. The opiate given to me under the premise of it numbing my pain, only to have it cause an exruciating amount of additional pain. My scalp was on fire. My torso was being stabbed repeatedly until I mercifully passed out from the pain.

By 7am I was disharged from hospital. The doctor on duty who treated me explained that due to not having an infection in my gallbladder he could only administer pain relief procedures. I will have to continue to wait the four weeks until I can see the specialist. The treating doctor at the hospital assured me if I have another attack I can go to hospital again for pain management.

So here I am. Three days later and the merry-go-round is stationary. The pain from the stones in my gallbladder has not ceased. Now I also get to feel the effects of a bad reaction to morphine.
I could go to hospital for more pain management, however, I don't like the idea of wasting bed space.

So here I am, a patient with private health insurance, waiting over two months to see the specialist to have a pre-operation consult. Then, upon finally seeing the specialist, an appointment will be made for surgery, hopefully.

That's the physical side spoken for, but what about the emotional side?
I'm unsure whether it's just the cycle I am in or if the morphine has had more of an effect on me than just the physical pain.

The merry-go-round is stationary yet I see the world spinning past me at a furious pace. I am on the outer, untouchable, unreachable. I would sincerely like someone to reach out but I do not know how to accept it when someone does.
I would like to yell out for help, advice and human contact. I know I can't because it would waste everyone's time.

At some point I know I want to get off this ride. I just don't know how.