Last week was hard y'all.
I'm not going to lie, I couldn't move from my bed for a couple of days.
Life felt too big, too much and too hard. I didn't opt out insofar that I'm still here, but I really had to hunker down - my only way out was through.
Last year, getting Mr A ready for changing schools and starting Grade 7 in February, was our family's main focus. I was also learning how to manage my ADHD, including being medicated on Vyvanse to resolve the chatter and noise in my head. Like many medications for cognitive "issues", I had to titrate up to a dosage that worked for me.
We'd also made the decision to move Dad to assisted living, initially for respite care for Mum. But within weeks of going in, his Alzheimer's worsened and it was decided that he needed to stay. Mum then went down with COVID and was proper poorly for almost a month.
As I merrily scaled up to the right level over 3-4 months; at the beginning of December, around the same time Dad was going into care, I got a sore on my tongue. My GP misdiagnosed it as oral thrush, I ended up taking the wrong medication to clear something that wasn't there, for almost two months.
While my head was clearer on Vyvanse, as I thought I had oral thrush, I couldn't wear my mouthguard overnight (for bruxing) as I was worried about reinfecting myself. For weeks my whole jaw, teeth and muscles, everything from my eyes down was sore.
At my normal review for my ADHD medication in late January I was still in pain. I mentioned in passing to my psychiatrist that I was struggling to talk comfortably, to my surprise she leapt on the symptom.
It is a side-effect called 'Adderall Tongue'. We didn't realise I couldn't tolerate Vyvanse. Immediately, she pulled me off it and I switched to Concerta. In a couple of weeks, my mouth improved and I could wear my mouthguard again.
Managing my pain though was a different issue that the GP practice completely mis-handled. In December, I had a sinus infection and got given antibiotics. I went back to see them again for the spot on my tongue, and was prescribed an oral thrush tablet and ointment. It didn't clear, so I went back again and got referred to an ENT surgeon. Who squeezed me in to his first clinic after his summer holidays. The ENT surgeon said it wasn't anything serious, but to keeping taking the oral thrush ointment with steroid cream. This was as tasty as it sounds.
It still didn't clear, and as the pain was getting worse, I went back and forth another three times where I saw three different GPs. The first visit, I explained that I was taking more paracetamol and ibuprofen than I was comfortable with. I said that I was also worried about my sobriety, because it would be very easy for me to crack open a bottle of wine to numb the pain.
To whit I got told the sugars wouldn't help with the thrush.
I'll pause here so you can watch the point I was trying to make whizz past.
I was going to muddle through, but then we had a thunderstorm asthma alert. I trotted back again because after a week of wheezing, my chest hadn't cleared. It was progressively getting more and more uncomfortable in and around my jaw.
(Changes of air pressure caused a major event in Melbourne in 2016. Since then these weather events are now pushed as an alert to the VicEmergency app).
I booked a double appointment to talk asthma and to say I was still in pain. I couldn't see the person I'd seen before as she didn't have a double appointment available. I got given antibiotics again, steroids again for my asthma, but when I talked about me mainlining over the counter meds, he said 'What do you want me to do?' I said 'I don't know that is why I'm here'.
He reluctantly gave me paracetamol and codeine. Ten tablets that I eked out for as long as I could, only using one when I couldn't sleep. I'd not caught up with my psychiatrist yet, so I didn't know I'm reacting to Vyvanse. This isn't picked up by any GP either despite it being on my record that I'm taking it and that the thrush medication is not clearing any of my symptoms.
Over two weeks later; I met with my psychiatrist, my medication is changed. She has reviewed the blood tests I have to do before each session with her. My iron is at 24mcg/dl, baseline is 60mcg/dl. She tells me I need to organise an infusion through my GP.
Back I go to the next available doctor to get the iron infusion booked. This is the third GP appointment referred to above, and the umpteenth time in about 6-8 weeks that I've mentioned to the clinic that I am in pain. When I say that I'd been having a reaction to the ADHD medication, and that I am still sore, can I please have another prescription to get through the next few days, she tells me that she can't prescribe me codeine as she's at her limit for those patients already.
I said 'I don't necessarily want codeine, but it was the last thing that I was given that helped'. I also explain that my pain is settling down because my medication has been changed, but I'm running on empty and is worse overnight because of my bruxing.
She obliquely accuses me of doctor shopping to get pain medication. Giving me an anti-inflammatory, but flat-out refuses to give me an iron infusion because it's not necessary.
That week, I see my osteopath. I'm miserable AF, and tell her what has been going on. She suggests I change GPs; getting the receptionist to call her clinic to find a GP that is taking new patients, while she frees up my jaw.
I'm now registered with the new clinic, as is Mr A and next week, The Husband is moving over too. As part of the new patient process, I got an arm full of bloods done, an ECG, completed all the questionnaires on mood, weight, and met with the nurse for an hour. When I met my new GP I told her what had happened this year, she was not impressed.
I had the iron infusion on Tuesday.
Life has been a lot and despite my best efforts, I've not taken the best care of myself. Cumulative stress can be as damaging as a sudden traumatic incident, even though I asked for help, I kept going and kept going and kept going. Now I'm out the scary bit, I need to rebuild myself.
I cannot bury it until I fall over, it's not fair on me or the family. Last week The Husband had a chest infection, Mr A had a gastro bug and it was all I could do to look after Mr A for an hour.
For thirty days from Monday, I am going to journal in the morning and evenings. Life happens; it always will, but I need to level-up in how I move with, through and meet life.
In the interim, I hope you have a great weekend. If you're watching the Eurovision, have fun! I'll see you next week, M x
