Whew. It’s been a week. Appointments with both the physician and the psychiatrist have taken their toll on me mentally and physically. Because I could only find a doctor in a small town south of the city, I have to get up in the morning and drive Matt to work so I can have the car on the days I have appointments. Needless to say, it ends up being quite the round trip in the end. And then I went and put the appointment with my psychiatrist on the very next day, deciding that before I see him, I’d go swimming. I went and I did, extending my swim length to 300 metres, and then it was Date Night with Matt last night, and…
I slept all day today.
It’s not like I wanted to. But I woke up, made some breakfast and did the dishes, and went back to bed, sleeping soundly until Matt called on his way home from work.
My doctor wants me to be swimming up to three times a week, and as much as I’d like to accommodate her, if I swim one day, I need a day of rest to make up for it. So I could swim Monday, rest Tuesday, swim Wednesday, rest Thursday, and swim Friday, but that would mean Saturday would be a day of rest and as much as I would love to get in shape quickly, spending time with my husband is far more important to me. Is that wrong?
She’s pleased with my progress as a whole, since I’ve permanently lost weight while also losing fat and gaining muscle tone. Not too quickly, mind you, but in a strong and healthy way. I am interested in getting up to swimming three times a week, but I also need to figure out if that’s really the best course of action for me, or if it’s pushing a little harder than I should be at the moment.
I believe I’ve made mention of the troubles I’ve been having lately, and my psychiatrist agrees with me: something is going on. What I don’t think I’ve mentioned is exactly what is going on. I’m having panic attacks. Unbidden, unrelenting, frequent and debilitating panic attacks. I barely made it across the road to the physiotherapist on Tuesday. Before my drive on Wednesday, I could not stop thinking about all the terrible things that could happen while I was behind the wheel. Neither of these instances was expected, and both of them are urgent enough to need dealt with promptly.
My doctor has adjusted my meds and is setting me up with another psychologist to continue working through whatever is bottled up in my head. Since the pain associated with getting better (the scar tissue thing) can be feeding the anxieties just as terribly as the current and frequent “Acts of God” this province has experienced, we aren’t quite sure what is causing the recent and violent increase in these attacks. We can only make sure they are well-handled. And since all my tricks and techniques learned in CBT therapy weren’t working, I knew something had to be done.
So, la. Now you know. If I’m flighty or spacey the next little while, you’ll forgive me, won’t you? I will try, really honestly try, to keep all of you updated as I go through this.
Air kisses to all.