Coming Up Roses

Up, down, left, and finally... right.

My life stopped the end of December, 2010. I had two major reconstructive surgeries on my right leg 13 months apart. That’s when everything blew up. I mean, I’ve always had symptoms, and they took a major turn for the worse when I was 16/17-ish, but after being on a maximum dose of morphine for three days, followed by OxyContin, Percocet, and Ativan for a few weeks, my brain retaliated. Not nice.

I quit the job I’d had for four years in March, 2011. Partially because of the effects of surgery, and partially because I had to work with a teacher that made Mussolini look like a teddy bear.

After that, I was in and out of jobs so fast that I never really learned everyone’s names. I would work anywhere between three months and, yes, one week. Anxiety became my constant companion. I couldn’t go anywhere by myself unless I knew I was meeting someone there. Even at that, I’d wait in my car until that person showed up. I couldn’t even go to the gas station, where social interaction was almost a guaranteed zero. 

The last time I tried working was the beginning of the school year in 2017. I was technically employed for a month, but I wasn’t there more than ten days total. It was a disaster.

I was able to go to the UK last year, which was actually quite frightening. But I made it through. Not well, but I did it.

Sometime in the last six months, everything suddenly changed. I went to get gas on my own, I went to the bank, I started talking to people. And now, I honestly can’t recognise my life. It’s a complete 180 from what I’ve known for almost nine years. My moods have been relatively stable for a month, which has never happened. I’m going outside, moving, walking, even going to the nearby park to walk around. Exercise is a major mood lifter. The subsequent weight loss is also a mood lifter. 

With things being so much better, I decided to try applying at the local school district again this year, just to see what I could find. I got a few calls for elementary level special education paraeducator, office clerks, and one high school position that would have cost me more in gas than I’d get paid. Then a call came from a junior high offering a position I had never heard of: student mentor. I scheduled an interview just to find out what was involved. Since I haven’t been in the job game for so long, I didn’t really have any professional references. The principal asked if there were any former coworkers I could think of. One came to mind who was a vice principal when I worked at the high school (pre-surgery). Fast forward an hour, and I get a call asking me to call this junior high principal back. I called and was floored by what happened next. She told me that she had spoken with my former VP who told her, in essence, that she’d be an idiot if she didn’t hire me.

WHAT?!?!

I accepted the job, but asked for just 20 hours per week. That was fine, everything is good. I did my hire papers last Friday and am just waiting for my background check to come back. I should be able to start next week!

Umm...

What’s college for, again?

So my regular doctor’s office is a teaching clinic. I deal mostly with residents who have the title of “doctor,” but they’re still not experienced enough to work independently. This doesn’t bother me. I mean, everyone has to learn their job somehow, right? What bothers me is their lack of understanding on certain subjects.

I get it. No doctor can know everything about everything. But with the prevalence of mental illness these days, basic knowledge in the area should be mandatory for general practitioners. No, they needn’t know every psych med on the market, or even the symptoms of every disorder. But again, basic knowledge would be helpful.

Example:

I saw a new resident today who basically laid into me for not having a normal sleep schedule. He told me that I need to take melatonin at the same time every night until I get into a groove. I had to explain that there’s not a single medication available, whether it be over-the-counter or prescription, that can make me sleep. He did not believe this. I gave up trying to argue.

As someone who works as a GP, he was very good. He even works with my neurologist and knew about Dystonia. But his basic knowledge about mental health was severely lacking.

Now, I’ve (obviously) never been through medical school, but anyone who has been to any college or university knows that you’ve got to take a million classes which have exactly nothing to do with your major. Majoring in history? Well, you’ve got to take fifty math classes, memorise the chemical makeup of everything in existence, and speak four other languages. So shouldn’t medical school teach things outside their specialty? Just my own opinion...

I Present: My Life

Every. Single. Time.

Any time something good happens in my life, something terrible follows that’s so bad that it cancels out the good.

I grew up dancing. I had to have major reconstructive surgery on one leg. I can’t dance anymore.

I played clarinet (almost) all through high school. No more school, no more opportunity to play, ability diminishes. 

Make a new friend. They learn about my illness and quirks. They abandon me.

My parent’s first child decides to be a friend. A year later turns in on herself and becomes narcissist.

Friends leave for college and return afterward. Then they move out of state.

Found the best therapist. Moves somewhere I can’t go after her internship.

Get where I’m coming from? I have given up on anything good in my life lasting more than a month. Not that good things happen to me much, anyway. Even if I have a good day, the next day is hell on steroids.

I just give up.