Exhaustion and depression aren't picnics on their own but, add the two together, and life becomes really hard.
I could say my family reunion started that ball rolling, and it would be sort of true. I could also go back further and lay the blame smack on the accident, and that would also be true. The accident did cause the issues with depression and exhaustion, and events of any kind exacerbate the symptoms.
But I'm not laying the blame on either one of those things. Nope. Now that those symptoms are starting to ease a bit, anger is setting in...again. So I'm going to give credit where credit is due-and that goes directly to my insurance company.
Sometimes I'm sure I sound like a whiny, broken record but...I didn't ask for any of this! I was obeying the law. I didn't run the red light. And even though I paid my premiums in good faith that they would uphold their end of our contract, should something like that ever happen, they failed. In fact, they failed spectacularly.
It took me well over a year to admit that I was depressed. I kept denying it, calling it burn out. Who wouldn't be burned out? You're in horrible pain, not sleeping, going to so many appointments every single week that you're head is spinning. Of course it's burn out.
Except it wasn't. So I finally gave in and accepted a prescription for an antidepressant late last year or early this year (I lose track of time). Between that and the counseling, it was getting better. Not great but better.
Until the insurance company sent me to their doctors, then canceled my benefits based on their 'unbiased' and
'independent' reports.
So no antidepressant, no counseling... The longer I'm away from both, the worse my symptoms are getting. Particularly the issues with the depression, quick temper and red-hot, instantaneous anger which, while never completely gone, had subsided quite a bit. Now they're back in full force.
Basically I'm back to the original post-accident mess and fighting to figure out how to control all that's going on. Without the help I need. Help that I paid for.
My mantra for today? And for tomorrow, next week, next year, 2020... Insurance companies suck!
Yeah, I know it's the weekend. But I figure after taking most of last week off, I'd post today anyway.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
For Ladies Only...or maybe not
I can't begin to describe the agony I was in after the accident. And I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. Outside of toothaches and hard labor pains anyway. What I was left with after my encounter with the 'red light runner,' rates right up there with those two experiences. Except labor eventually ends and dentists can fill or pull a tooth pretty quickly.
This went on round the clock, month after month after month. And all I looked forward to were the shots the doctor thought would help. But I couldn't have those until all the testing was finished, and circumstances beyond my control caused that to take longer than it should.
Finally, about five months later, I went in for the first of a series of three shots over a month or so. I was offered an I.V. sedative but I've had enough I.V.'s in my life (pregnancy related) that it didn't seem like any shot could hurt that bad, so I said no. I'd just tough it out.
Wow. What an experience. Amazingly enough the shots did hurt. At least as bad as an I.V. But it wasn't anything I couldn't tolerate, and I didn't have to worry about feeling groggy the rest of the day. Or groggier than had become normal by that point.
Those first shots, one somewhere along the spine, and a second one in the bursa of my left hip were wonderful. Almost immediate pain relief. I was so happy I could have danced, but I knew better. Just because the pain was essentially gone didn't mean the injuries were.
When the shots wore off within ten days, I was discouraged. Relief from excruciating pain, only to have it return full force, only makes it feel worse. So I was a little skeptical for the next two appointments. With good reason because the next two sets didn't have any effect at all. On the pain.
They did, however, have a peachy little side effect no one bothered to mention. Can we say irregular periods? I don't know about you but just one regular four or five day period every month is more than enough for me.
Try nine in six months, each one lasting ten days to two weeks.
At first it scared the heck out of me and I started Googling it. Could there be a correlation between the steroid shots and what was going on? Yup. And it's fairly common, too, from what I was able to find. Common enough that it should have made the side-effect list they gave me.
I'm not sure what decision I'd have made had I known at the onset that the shots weren't going to help. Probably gone ahead and gotten them anyway. I was pretty desperate. At least now I don't have to weigh pain relief at the expense of half my life on a period.
Would I have more shots? Not a chance! I wasn't impressed with the three sets I had (all without I.V. sedation). I was even less impressed with what followed.
So why did I share this experience? Because you need to be informed about any procedure you have done. And not just from the information doctors choose to give you. Get all the facts.
Many women thought they might be experiencing early menopause-or even symptoms of cancer-when it was nothing more than an unpleasant side effect of the shots. So check it all out before you agree to anything like this.
Even men, because you could be surprised, too.
This went on round the clock, month after month after month. And all I looked forward to were the shots the doctor thought would help. But I couldn't have those until all the testing was finished, and circumstances beyond my control caused that to take longer than it should.
Finally, about five months later, I went in for the first of a series of three shots over a month or so. I was offered an I.V. sedative but I've had enough I.V.'s in my life (pregnancy related) that it didn't seem like any shot could hurt that bad, so I said no. I'd just tough it out.
Wow. What an experience. Amazingly enough the shots did hurt. At least as bad as an I.V. But it wasn't anything I couldn't tolerate, and I didn't have to worry about feeling groggy the rest of the day. Or groggier than had become normal by that point.
Those first shots, one somewhere along the spine, and a second one in the bursa of my left hip were wonderful. Almost immediate pain relief. I was so happy I could have danced, but I knew better. Just because the pain was essentially gone didn't mean the injuries were.
When the shots wore off within ten days, I was discouraged. Relief from excruciating pain, only to have it return full force, only makes it feel worse. So I was a little skeptical for the next two appointments. With good reason because the next two sets didn't have any effect at all. On the pain.
They did, however, have a peachy little side effect no one bothered to mention. Can we say irregular periods? I don't know about you but just one regular four or five day period every month is more than enough for me.
Try nine in six months, each one lasting ten days to two weeks.
At first it scared the heck out of me and I started Googling it. Could there be a correlation between the steroid shots and what was going on? Yup. And it's fairly common, too, from what I was able to find. Common enough that it should have made the side-effect list they gave me.
I'm not sure what decision I'd have made had I known at the onset that the shots weren't going to help. Probably gone ahead and gotten them anyway. I was pretty desperate. At least now I don't have to weigh pain relief at the expense of half my life on a period.
Would I have more shots? Not a chance! I wasn't impressed with the three sets I had (all without I.V. sedation). I was even less impressed with what followed.
So why did I share this experience? Because you need to be informed about any procedure you have done. And not just from the information doctors choose to give you. Get all the facts.
Many women thought they might be experiencing early menopause-or even symptoms of cancer-when it was nothing more than an unpleasant side effect of the shots. So check it all out before you agree to anything like this.
Even men, because you could be surprised, too.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thank God it's Friday!
The past two summers have been so hard to live through. Like I mentioned yesterday, I've never liked this season. But it's so much worse now. When you never feel good, or rested, and the weather already makes you feel drained, it makes each day just that much harder to get through.
But only two more days of the extreme heat and humidity before the promised break is supposed to arrive- 10-day forecast for mostly seventies. And then there will hopefully we'll see an end to complaints from me. Until the next round of eighties and nineties anyway.
Just thinking about it makes me want to swear...
Which brings me to the subject of this post. Am I the only TBI'er (saw that the other day and liked it) who never used to cuss much but, after the injury, cussed so much that it was almost a second language? Talk about a personality change I despise! Once I get started it's like I have no control. Like there's a target number of times I have to swear before it's out of my system.
Anyone remember Fonzie? I think I'm like him in that I don't like to say I'm sorry. Not because I think I'm too cool but because if I have to apologize, it's because I've done something to hurt or offend someone. And I don't like doing that to anyone. Well, except for the insurance claims reps, their lawyers and the IME doctors. If I can offend them in any little way, I feel like I should be nominated for an award.
But back to the topic.... When you've just polluted the air with a steady stream of profanity, you have to apologize. Because you have offended anyone in hearing distance. Frankly, I'm getting really tired of saying I'm sorry.
Of course this goes hand-in-hand with some of the other subjects I've written about. Too much stress, too much pressure, etc... It's always set off because of situations I have trouble handling now. And it gives me yet another reason to stay holed up alone in my office for most of every day. If you avoid the triggers, you avoid the bad responses. The only problem is, you also avoid life.
I like my office just fine, but it's beginning to feel like a prison. Yes, I choose to hide here far more often than not, but it's only choosing the lesser of two evils. Isolate myself or risk blowing a gasket and making all the truckers blush. (For those wondering what in the world I mean by that last statement, it's just a way we describe hard core profanity users in our little corner of the world)
So again...am I the only one? If not, what are you trying to do to control your language? Are you having any success with whatever it is you're doing?
But only two more days of the extreme heat and humidity before the promised break is supposed to arrive- 10-day forecast for mostly seventies. And then there will hopefully we'll see an end to complaints from me. Until the next round of eighties and nineties anyway.
Just thinking about it makes me want to swear...
Which brings me to the subject of this post. Am I the only TBI'er (saw that the other day and liked it) who never used to cuss much but, after the injury, cussed so much that it was almost a second language? Talk about a personality change I despise! Once I get started it's like I have no control. Like there's a target number of times I have to swear before it's out of my system.
Anyone remember Fonzie? I think I'm like him in that I don't like to say I'm sorry. Not because I think I'm too cool but because if I have to apologize, it's because I've done something to hurt or offend someone. And I don't like doing that to anyone. Well, except for the insurance claims reps, their lawyers and the IME doctors. If I can offend them in any little way, I feel like I should be nominated for an award.
But back to the topic.... When you've just polluted the air with a steady stream of profanity, you have to apologize. Because you have offended anyone in hearing distance. Frankly, I'm getting really tired of saying I'm sorry.
Of course this goes hand-in-hand with some of the other subjects I've written about. Too much stress, too much pressure, etc... It's always set off because of situations I have trouble handling now. And it gives me yet another reason to stay holed up alone in my office for most of every day. If you avoid the triggers, you avoid the bad responses. The only problem is, you also avoid life.
I like my office just fine, but it's beginning to feel like a prison. Yes, I choose to hide here far more often than not, but it's only choosing the lesser of two evils. Isolate myself or risk blowing a gasket and making all the truckers blush. (For those wondering what in the world I mean by that last statement, it's just a way we describe hard core profanity users in our little corner of the world)
So again...am I the only one? If not, what are you trying to do to control your language? Are you having any success with whatever it is you're doing?
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Did I Mention That I HATE Summer?
Yeah, I know I did. But I had to say it again because it makes me feel better. Not much, but some. I still haven't bounced back from the reunion and hot, humid days don't help. I've been dragging all day. And trying to come up with a subject to write about tonight. So far, no luck though.
Guess I'll just say that I finally got a little work in the fiction area done last night. Darn little and if it flies at all, it's going to take some serious editing.
A friend suggested that maybe the reason I haven't been able to finish anything I was working on two years ago is because somewhere, in its cobweb filled corners, my mind associates the projects with the accident. She thought that maybe trying something entirely new might kick-start everything. If last night is anything to go by, though, it's going to take a little more kicking.
Hmm. I just realized something. I've been blaming today's overwhelming fatigue on the reunion and weather. But it was pretty hot yesterday and I didn't feel this bad. Maybe it's more to do with those thousand words...
Whatever the reason, about all I'll be good for tonight is rambling and I don't think I'm going to go there. Don't think I'll be adding to the four pages that are hoping to become a book either. : (
Guess I'll just say that I finally got a little work in the fiction area done last night. Darn little and if it flies at all, it's going to take some serious editing.
A friend suggested that maybe the reason I haven't been able to finish anything I was working on two years ago is because somewhere, in its cobweb filled corners, my mind associates the projects with the accident. She thought that maybe trying something entirely new might kick-start everything. If last night is anything to go by, though, it's going to take a little more kicking.
Hmm. I just realized something. I've been blaming today's overwhelming fatigue on the reunion and weather. But it was pretty hot yesterday and I didn't feel this bad. Maybe it's more to do with those thousand words...
Whatever the reason, about all I'll be good for tonight is rambling and I don't think I'm going to go there. Don't think I'll be adding to the four pages that are hoping to become a book either. : (
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
What Lies Ahead
I don't know about you but I worry about the future more now than I did before. If, almost two years after my auto accident, I'm still in a great deal of pain, I'm still not able to do many of the things I used to do, and I'm still experiencing issues with the TBI and PTSD, what will life be like in five, ten and thirty years?
Will the injuries to my hip, shoulder, lower back and neck be more likely to develop arthritis? Will the focus, fatigue, being over-stimulated too easily and all the rest of the brain injury symptoms continue to cause me problems? Is there really a connection between mild TBI's and the risk of developing Alzheimer's?
What about my writing? I've written fiction since I was fifteen years old (not gonna say how long ago that was!).
In twenty-two months I haven't even written a chapter in the book I was working on at the time the accident occurred. I haven't been able to write anything else in the fiction genre either. But, five months before I was hit, from conception of the idea to the final editing, I wrote a 45,000+ word book. Two or three weeks prior to the accident, I wrote a short story and submitted it to a national writing contest. (nope, there were two winners and I wasn't one of them)
Twenty years from now am I still going to be spending the majority of my time hiding out in my office because it's easier than being around people? Because crowds, or too much noise, or whatever are still almost more than I can bear? Because I sometimes fear being beat up should I ever give in to the urge to run a particularly rude person over with my shopping cart? (that urge rises up more often than you'd think-like every time I step inside a grocery store!)
Will driving around to look at fall colors, or holiday decorations ever not make me feel exhausted? Will I ever host another bonfire (a years-long tradition) for my mother's birthday? And what about my annual New Years Eve party? Just games, pizza and sodas, but it used to make for an enjoyable-and safe-celebration.
Then there's Christmas. I have more decorations than anyone I know-and I used put them on anything that didn't move. I also spent the end of November and all of December baking cookies, making candies, watching any and all manner of Christmas movies, reading all of my favorite Christmas books (which even have their own special shelf), listening to Christmas music from dawn until dusk...and just generally loving every single minute of the holidays. It's the only time of year when I didn't mind shopping-because I loved buying gifts.
I don't even remember the first Christmas after the accident. Well, except for two stand out events. One was baking one batch of three different kinds of cookies with my daughter because I promised. The previous year we'd been packing in preparation for a move to our new house in mid-January, so we didn't celebrate much. The first Christmas in our new house was supposed to be special, to make up for the last one. But I wound up in bed, and in severe pain, from that too brief baking session.
Then there was my family's Christmas Eve party, something we've done every year since I was a kid. That year my baby brother hosted it. And I was scared. I'd wound up in emergency Thanksgiving night because it hadn't registered yet that I couldn't bake and prepare for the holiday for two days without consequences. But Christmas Eve I knew what might happen if I overdid things again.
My biggest fear was that the party was being held in the basement rec room, which meant a steep flight of stairs. They offered to move it to the main floor, but they have white carpet and I didn't want to be responsible for any damage to that. So I didn't eat or drink anything all day because I knew I'd be lucky to make one trip down and then back up. If a visit to the bathroom became necessary, the party would be over for me and my kids.
But the party never really started for me because food preparation and the trip downstairs did me in. I had to take a pain pill-and required help from two people to get back upstairs when it was time to leave. Pretty sad memories of my favorite holiday.
Six months later, after a miserable, disastrous, and painful Easter dinner, I stopped inviting people to my house. Not that it was much of a dinner. I made minimal effort and my daughter did most of the work on the scaled down menu. That was the first year in my entire adult life that I didn't make four or five from scratch pies. I didn't even make one. Instead I bought two pretty little frozen cakes. And homemade rolls...forget it!
These are the things I wonder about. And you may wonder about me reminiscing about Christmases past in August. But that hasn't changed about me. I hated summer before the accident and I hate now. And one of the ways I get through these unbearably hot, humid days is to think about Christmas.
Only now I'm not looking forward to it. Now I dread it with all my heart.
Are these the kinds of things I have to look forward in my golden years? Nothing to look forward to? And let me tell you, a life mostly alone in my office isn't even remotely close to the life I had planned.
Will the injuries to my hip, shoulder, lower back and neck be more likely to develop arthritis? Will the focus, fatigue, being over-stimulated too easily and all the rest of the brain injury symptoms continue to cause me problems? Is there really a connection between mild TBI's and the risk of developing Alzheimer's?
What about my writing? I've written fiction since I was fifteen years old (not gonna say how long ago that was!).
In twenty-two months I haven't even written a chapter in the book I was working on at the time the accident occurred. I haven't been able to write anything else in the fiction genre either. But, five months before I was hit, from conception of the idea to the final editing, I wrote a 45,000+ word book. Two or three weeks prior to the accident, I wrote a short story and submitted it to a national writing contest. (nope, there were two winners and I wasn't one of them)
Twenty years from now am I still going to be spending the majority of my time hiding out in my office because it's easier than being around people? Because crowds, or too much noise, or whatever are still almost more than I can bear? Because I sometimes fear being beat up should I ever give in to the urge to run a particularly rude person over with my shopping cart? (that urge rises up more often than you'd think-like every time I step inside a grocery store!)
Will driving around to look at fall colors, or holiday decorations ever not make me feel exhausted? Will I ever host another bonfire (a years-long tradition) for my mother's birthday? And what about my annual New Years Eve party? Just games, pizza and sodas, but it used to make for an enjoyable-and safe-celebration.
Then there's Christmas. I have more decorations than anyone I know-and I used put them on anything that didn't move. I also spent the end of November and all of December baking cookies, making candies, watching any and all manner of Christmas movies, reading all of my favorite Christmas books (which even have their own special shelf), listening to Christmas music from dawn until dusk...and just generally loving every single minute of the holidays. It's the only time of year when I didn't mind shopping-because I loved buying gifts.
I don't even remember the first Christmas after the accident. Well, except for two stand out events. One was baking one batch of three different kinds of cookies with my daughter because I promised. The previous year we'd been packing in preparation for a move to our new house in mid-January, so we didn't celebrate much. The first Christmas in our new house was supposed to be special, to make up for the last one. But I wound up in bed, and in severe pain, from that too brief baking session.
Then there was my family's Christmas Eve party, something we've done every year since I was a kid. That year my baby brother hosted it. And I was scared. I'd wound up in emergency Thanksgiving night because it hadn't registered yet that I couldn't bake and prepare for the holiday for two days without consequences. But Christmas Eve I knew what might happen if I overdid things again.
My biggest fear was that the party was being held in the basement rec room, which meant a steep flight of stairs. They offered to move it to the main floor, but they have white carpet and I didn't want to be responsible for any damage to that. So I didn't eat or drink anything all day because I knew I'd be lucky to make one trip down and then back up. If a visit to the bathroom became necessary, the party would be over for me and my kids.
But the party never really started for me because food preparation and the trip downstairs did me in. I had to take a pain pill-and required help from two people to get back upstairs when it was time to leave. Pretty sad memories of my favorite holiday.
Six months later, after a miserable, disastrous, and painful Easter dinner, I stopped inviting people to my house. Not that it was much of a dinner. I made minimal effort and my daughter did most of the work on the scaled down menu. That was the first year in my entire adult life that I didn't make four or five from scratch pies. I didn't even make one. Instead I bought two pretty little frozen cakes. And homemade rolls...forget it!
These are the things I wonder about. And you may wonder about me reminiscing about Christmases past in August. But that hasn't changed about me. I hated summer before the accident and I hate now. And one of the ways I get through these unbearably hot, humid days is to think about Christmas.
Only now I'm not looking forward to it. Now I dread it with all my heart.
Are these the kinds of things I have to look forward in my golden years? Nothing to look forward to? And let me tell you, a life mostly alone in my office isn't even remotely close to the life I had planned.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
I'd Like to Wake Up Now
I spent the a good part of the afternoon reading blogs by other TBI victims. It was 'pleasantly' surprising to see that the things I still experience, after almost two years, aren't uncommon. One subject in particular really hit home.
And that would be...fatigue. Constant, sometimes debilitating fatigue.
Except for early in pregnancies, and maybe until the babies started sleeping through the night, I don't think I've ever been so consistently tired as I have been for the past twenty-two months. The only things that were worse have been the few times I've had bronchitis, and the occasional flu bug. Fortunately those things are few and far between.
But this... This just never goes away. I still have trouble getting a good nights sleep, though six to eight hours is more common now than it was during the first year and a half. Then I averaged three to four hours a night. Every night.
The odd thing about that is, I think I felt more awake on the fewer hours of sleep. I don't try to skimp though because adequate rest is essential for the healing process. Not to mention it's healthier. Still, no matter how much or how little I get, I never wake refreshed. I never wake up when I don't feel like a few more hours might help. So basically just the simple act of getting out of bed begins my fatigue-filled day.
Things don't get as bad if I can just stay in my own little world. My house and, specifically, my office. There I can control distractions and noise (to a large degree). Grocery shopping, riding in the car, picnics, parties, and just about anything else you can think of, all leave me exhausted. Depending on what's involved, it can last for days.
I'm still recovering from the family reunion I mentioned a in an earlier post. One thing I neglected to add is that the day was topped off with a flat tire on the way home...and a 45 minute wait on the shoulder of a freeway off ramp. More stress, added to an already stressful weekend, left me feeling like I'd been through a wringer.
It takes awhile to bounce back. Though today isn't quite as rough as yesterday, it's still not good. Hopefully the normal fatigue will be back tomorrow. For clarity, the fatigue is very much more preferable to exhaustion.
This is just one of those peachy side effects of a head injury. You never stop hoping it will go away-and it never does.
IME doctors will refute it. They're paid very well to discredit you and your symptoms. It's all in your head (yeah, isn't it?!). It's depression (uh-huh...you get a head injury and the fatigue and other injuries might depress you, too!). You didn't lead an active enough lifestyle prior to the accident and now you're trying to blame your poor health on that (one, how do they know what kind of life you led prior to the accident and two... well, I can't give my opinion here because it would, again, involve the use of profanity).
Hating is something I've always tried to avoid in my life. In fact, I've hated very few people, ever. Until this happened. Now the list is fairly long-and growing all the time.
But you know what? Hating just exacerbates stress, and stress makes me more tired, so it's a viscous cycle. Consequently I try not to think about the people who are paid well to try and make my life miserable. Too bad they're experts in their profession.
Thought I got off topic for a second there, but I really didn't. TBI-related fatigue is very real. And, from the looks of things, it's pretty long lasting. Unfortunately there will be people in your life who will swear up and down that it's not real. That you're lying. Or, as one of the oh so trustworthy, integrity-strong insurance doctors said, that you're 'embellishing.'
Hey, Doc...bite me!
Just let me take a quick nap first...
And that would be...fatigue. Constant, sometimes debilitating fatigue.
Except for early in pregnancies, and maybe until the babies started sleeping through the night, I don't think I've ever been so consistently tired as I have been for the past twenty-two months. The only things that were worse have been the few times I've had bronchitis, and the occasional flu bug. Fortunately those things are few and far between.
But this... This just never goes away. I still have trouble getting a good nights sleep, though six to eight hours is more common now than it was during the first year and a half. Then I averaged three to four hours a night. Every night.
The odd thing about that is, I think I felt more awake on the fewer hours of sleep. I don't try to skimp though because adequate rest is essential for the healing process. Not to mention it's healthier. Still, no matter how much or how little I get, I never wake refreshed. I never wake up when I don't feel like a few more hours might help. So basically just the simple act of getting out of bed begins my fatigue-filled day.
Things don't get as bad if I can just stay in my own little world. My house and, specifically, my office. There I can control distractions and noise (to a large degree). Grocery shopping, riding in the car, picnics, parties, and just about anything else you can think of, all leave me exhausted. Depending on what's involved, it can last for days.
I'm still recovering from the family reunion I mentioned a in an earlier post. One thing I neglected to add is that the day was topped off with a flat tire on the way home...and a 45 minute wait on the shoulder of a freeway off ramp. More stress, added to an already stressful weekend, left me feeling like I'd been through a wringer.
It takes awhile to bounce back. Though today isn't quite as rough as yesterday, it's still not good. Hopefully the normal fatigue will be back tomorrow. For clarity, the fatigue is very much more preferable to exhaustion.
This is just one of those peachy side effects of a head injury. You never stop hoping it will go away-and it never does.
IME doctors will refute it. They're paid very well to discredit you and your symptoms. It's all in your head (yeah, isn't it?!). It's depression (uh-huh...you get a head injury and the fatigue and other injuries might depress you, too!). You didn't lead an active enough lifestyle prior to the accident and now you're trying to blame your poor health on that (one, how do they know what kind of life you led prior to the accident and two... well, I can't give my opinion here because it would, again, involve the use of profanity).
Hating is something I've always tried to avoid in my life. In fact, I've hated very few people, ever. Until this happened. Now the list is fairly long-and growing all the time.
But you know what? Hating just exacerbates stress, and stress makes me more tired, so it's a viscous cycle. Consequently I try not to think about the people who are paid well to try and make my life miserable. Too bad they're experts in their profession.
Thought I got off topic for a second there, but I really didn't. TBI-related fatigue is very real. And, from the looks of things, it's pretty long lasting. Unfortunately there will be people in your life who will swear up and down that it's not real. That you're lying. Or, as one of the oh so trustworthy, integrity-strong insurance doctors said, that you're 'embellishing.'
Hey, Doc...bite me!
Just let me take a quick nap first...
Yoo Hoo! Is Anyone In There?
One of the most annoying things about this whole 'traumatic brain injury' thing is something I don't have a name for. I'm sure there is a name for it, and someone probably told me what it was, but obviously it's just one of the many things I tend to forget now.
Maybe it has to do with the 'focus' issues that have become a part of my daily life. Whatever the reason, it can be very frustrating. Both for me and anyone trying to talk to me.
Sometimes I'll be sitting at my desk (or anywhere), trying to do something, and realize that I don't know what I've been doing for the past little while. While I'm writing, watching a program, playing a game, or-and I'm sorry to admit this-having a conversation.
It's kind of like driving when you're too tired. All of a sudden you realize you've covered a few miles you don't remember passing. The file I thought I was writing in is blank. The television program is running, but I've missed several minutes and couldn't tell you why.
The worst, though, are the conversations. We've all had moments in our lives when we've been stuck listening to a dull speaker. Those people who prefer monologues over a two-way chat. They make it easy to zone out, to pay just a hint of attention to what they're saying because all they require is an occasional 'uh-huh,' or nod of the head.
But now I can zone out during the middle of a perfectly nice conversation. It's like my mind gets tired of thinking and just takes a little vacation.
Another facet to whatever this thing that I have going on now is just weird. One of my kids will come to my office, have a short conversation with me, and then go on about their business. Thirty seconds or a minute or two later I have to call them back and find out what we both just said. For some reason it took awhile for it to register that they were here and that we actually discussed something. It's a little scary, and it for sure is a lot annoying!
I can also be in the middle of doing something when one of them will stop to say something. And I'll have to ask them to repeat it several times before what they're saying actually sinks in. Why? Because I have trouble shifting my focus from one thing to another. Yet another change I hate.
I'm not saying this is a constant, round the clock thing. It's definitely a daily thing, and I work hard to eliminate from my life. But it's not easy. I've always been able to change my focus whenever I wanted to. I want that ability back.
So far the biggest thing that helps me is to close my eyes. If I can shut out all the distractions around me, or at least most of them, then I can hear what someone is saying to me. Kind of a pain in the neck though. Not to mention that it looks rude.
Has anyone else experienced this? If so, have you found anything that helps you shift your focus from one thing to another? What might that be?
Maybe it has to do with the 'focus' issues that have become a part of my daily life. Whatever the reason, it can be very frustrating. Both for me and anyone trying to talk to me.
Sometimes I'll be sitting at my desk (or anywhere), trying to do something, and realize that I don't know what I've been doing for the past little while. While I'm writing, watching a program, playing a game, or-and I'm sorry to admit this-having a conversation.
It's kind of like driving when you're too tired. All of a sudden you realize you've covered a few miles you don't remember passing. The file I thought I was writing in is blank. The television program is running, but I've missed several minutes and couldn't tell you why.
The worst, though, are the conversations. We've all had moments in our lives when we've been stuck listening to a dull speaker. Those people who prefer monologues over a two-way chat. They make it easy to zone out, to pay just a hint of attention to what they're saying because all they require is an occasional 'uh-huh,' or nod of the head.
But now I can zone out during the middle of a perfectly nice conversation. It's like my mind gets tired of thinking and just takes a little vacation.
Another facet to whatever this thing that I have going on now is just weird. One of my kids will come to my office, have a short conversation with me, and then go on about their business. Thirty seconds or a minute or two later I have to call them back and find out what we both just said. For some reason it took awhile for it to register that they were here and that we actually discussed something. It's a little scary, and it for sure is a lot annoying!
I can also be in the middle of doing something when one of them will stop to say something. And I'll have to ask them to repeat it several times before what they're saying actually sinks in. Why? Because I have trouble shifting my focus from one thing to another. Yet another change I hate.
I'm not saying this is a constant, round the clock thing. It's definitely a daily thing, and I work hard to eliminate from my life. But it's not easy. I've always been able to change my focus whenever I wanted to. I want that ability back.
So far the biggest thing that helps me is to close my eyes. If I can shut out all the distractions around me, or at least most of them, then I can hear what someone is saying to me. Kind of a pain in the neck though. Not to mention that it looks rude.
Has anyone else experienced this? If so, have you found anything that helps you shift your focus from one thing to another? What might that be?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)