caerula's Diaryland Diary

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broken

I had a breakdown yesterday.

Let me start over. I had a minor breakdown on Wednesday. I Was at work, and start shaking an hyperventilating in a meeting (not a good career move, trust me). I went to the doctor, where the nurse practioner changed my meds, since the doctor couldn't be bothered to see me. I went home, took a Clonapin, and promptly slept for eleven hours. Thursday I stayed home, except for when I had to take YMP to HIS counseling appointment. Came home, took another Clonapin, went back to sleep.

Went back to the doctor yesterday morning for a recheck. Doing fine until about half-way there, when I started shaking an hyperventilating again. Was in full panic mood by the time Blue helped me into room. I had to sit on his lap with his arms around me so I could stop shaking long enough to have my blood pressure taken. NP came in and asked how I was doing; I was not exactly able to talk. Blue filled him in. NP left to "go talk to the doctor." NP came back, without doctor, and said that doctor recommended we go to the ER.

I was apparently beyond coherent at this point.

Went to the ER. On the ride over there, without realizing it, I bit through my lip. I was also clenching my hands so tight that I have bloody fingernail-shaped imprints in my palms.

Proceeded to wait, Blue tells, me, five hours at ER. I don't remember much of this time. Blue called my parents and Dad went to pick YMB up from school while Mom came and met us at ER; I don't remember her getting there at all. I am told the nurse came into talk to me and take my blood pressure; I don't remember this either. Blue had to leave as Dementors were picking up YMB and Dementors + my Dad = inevitable scene. While he was gone doctor finally came in to see me and called down a psych consult. Duh. At this point I'm pretty sure I was fairly doped up on tranquilizers so that I could stop shaking and breathe. Example: I normally take .1 milligram of Xanax if I am unable to get myself out of a panic attack, and generally it calms me down. Yesterday at the hospital I had 1.0 milligrams. 10 times what I normally take. And I still couldn't stop shaking.

Talked to the nice social worker lady they called in, as coherently as I could, I guess. I was asked repeatedly if I felt like hurting myself or anyone else. I told them I bit through my lip and it hurt like hell. I don't think this was what they meant. Asked me if I wanted to stay at the hospital or go home; emphatically I wanted to go home since right now I seem to function almost perfectly fine when I'm here; it's when I have to go anywhere else that I either fall apart or apparently go catatonic.

So here I am. Up way early despite all the drugs that should still be in my system, waiting for 9 am so I can call the counseling place they recommended to me and get set up for an appointment. I've done this dance before. It's all achingly familiar. I don't know if I have the strength to do it again.

6:47 a.m. - April 13, 2002

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