Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar

I spent the last Monday and Tuesday in bed. Last Thursday I added 300 mg of Lithium to my meds. At first I felt anxious and a little high and then the last two days I was so tired that I could hardly wake up. I felt so tired that I napped most of the day. I woke up just to eat and then I went back to bed. I'm thankful that my husband helped out with the kids. Wednesday I woke up ready to deal with the world.

On the first day I called my father, who's now in a regular room in the hospital, to see how he was doing. He has another blood clot in his arm. Oh, joy. A clot that could go to his heart at anytime. He's not taking his coumadin (which would help with the clot) due to the surgery he just had--it would make him bleed out. He's still not eating yet (he's on IV sustenance) and he says he's damn hungry. I feel bad for him. I would hate to be hungry. The surgeon said his surgery was extensive and major and he doesn't want him eating just yet. This makes for a grumpy daddy.

He's sitting there all day long with nothing to do. And he's doing nothing but thinking. I think he's a little depressed. I found out later that his wife said that when he found out about the clot he broke down and cried. He told her that he thinks he's going to die. He told me that he doesn't know what he did for this to happen to him. I told him that he can't think like that if he wants to get better. I told him what I do when things get me down. I think that things could be worse. The tumor could've gotten bigger than it was and then there would've been more extensive damage. I told him that he needs to focus on the positive aspects and that he'll get better sooner if he does.

Then I reminded him of the tumor that they haven't looked at (I didn't know he was that upset until later). He thought that they had taken care of that in the surgery. I told him that the surgeon had said that it wasn't big enough for him to take it out. He was unaware of this so he's going to ask again to see if it can be biopsied. They need to take care of everything while he's sitting in the hospital. I was surprised that his wife hadn't told him anything. Maybe she didn't want to bother him, but I think it's important he has all the facts. After all, this is his life.

I don't want him to give up, either. He needs to fight. I called him last night and his blood sugar was dangerously low. He was being tested every hour as they frantically tried to increase his blood sugar level. I find it odd that his level dropped so dramatically since he's still not eating and he's on this constant high fructose syrup that drips into his IV. To top that off his arm is highly swollen and liquids aren't draining out of his stomach. They were going to do ultrasounds last night.

Maybe this is just a minor setback. I hope so. There's just this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach like something's going to go wrong again. It was different when Dad was mentally stronger. Like if he was strong, then I could be strong. I think that this all has gone on so long that I feel like giving up. I know that I gave up a long time ago and I thought that whatever happened I would deal with it, but then I was given hope from that surgeon that Dad would make a full recovery. Now I'm starting to lose that hope. I have to find the strength in me somewhere to make it back to that hope. Somewhere in me is the strength. I just have to find it again.


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© 2009 Cristina Fender

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