I did the dentist thing once, so I can do it again. So tell that to the butterflies making cream in the pit of my stomach (just had some chocolate milk).
I’m trying to be rational about this, but I have to go in Monday for more work. I’m going to try to see if he can do both sides, and knock me out. I really don’t want to go through this. It’s the sound and the smell that really get to me. My iPod wasn’t loud enough to drown out the noises.
The rational part says get this done. The other part says get the hell out of there and never go back.
I don’t know if I ever finished this. As best as I can tell I was about 7. For Christmas Eve I got a pair of footed pajamas.
I woke up in the middle of the night, freezing. My dad was in there. He had undressed me. He was really aroused. I think because that style of pajamas is for babies. All of a sudden he had a baby to “play” with again.
I didn’t let him know I was awake. I tried not to shiver too much.
Christmas morning, my mother comes in to wake me up and I was totally naked. I don’t remember what she said to me but I remember the yelling. I had no explanation for being out of my pajamas. I learned long ago not to tell her.
I’ve been having urinary retention issues. Why? Who knows. Could have something to do with the handful of pills every day.
So after not going to the bathroom for 12 hours and getting a liter of saline, I was an unhappy camper. The resident told the nurse to drain my bladder with a catheter. Not fun, but I had it done before (side effect of anesthesia for me when I had back surgery). It was unpleasant and brought back memories loud and clear. I kept my eyes open and that helped keep me grounded. After three or four times of doing this, and it getting harder for me each time to keep myself in the present, the resident decided on a catheter that would stay in. I thought I could deal with it. I didn’t realize that my body wasn’t going to habituate to this thing inside of me. I could feel it constantly and it hurt. I was on the edge of panic when the nurse came to check and I begged her to take it out. I couldn’t explain in Korean why. I felt crazy. Finally she did take it out. I huddled under my blanket and cried for a good while. It’s been a long time since I was triggered like that.
What makes me the most upset is that I let it get to me. I couldn’t shut the memories in a box or any of those other things they tell people with PTSD to do.
Even worse is I don’t have to words to describe what’s going on in my head. And I wonder if I’ll ever be free of this. I go for months and I’m fine. Then everything goes to hell in a hand-basket.
Just writing it makes me tired.
I’ve started a fibro blog called “Fibromyalgia: Day by Day” Hopefully I can get back to using this blog for the reasons I created it. Or maybe both will just languish. I don’t know. I’m too tired to think now.