Severe Anxiety With A Sprinkle Of Depression

I finally saw a therapist.

Yes a real one. Not the one I made up in my head a couple months ago. Although, I’d say that session with myself did rather go pretty well.

Anyways, It was different. Last year I saw a counselor at my local doctors office that my doctor had recommended me. I went for maybe about three weeks but for some random reason I never went back.

This time I didn’t want a counselor. I wanted someone, I’d say, with a little more experience and expertise. And I was able to find one.

I took a test at the beginning, which was random, but it was mostly about how I was feeling, what I was going through, and other random question about my days to day.

Then we went over it and the therapist asked me to go more in-depth on why I felt the way I felt. It’s not easy to talk about things with a total stranger but I really didn’t have anything to lose, so I let my mouth run, and boy did it ever.

In the end, she finally told me what I had. She said I have severe anxiety with a little sprinkle of depression. Well isn’t that cute? Those weren’t words but it sounds less scary that way for me.

She asked me about medication and if I was willing to take any. In my head I’ve always told myself I didn’t need any. I’m fine. I don’t want to be crazy and taking pills all the time. I see on tv all these people going bonkers because they take pills, or hear how people hate taking them.

I told her that I was worried in doing so but if it helped, then I was willing to try. She told me that mental health issues depicted on TV are taken to the extreme and are not that accurate.

I’m starting off with this one med that I don’t really know the name of [it’s at the pharmacy still because I’m still nervous to take it. (Side note: isn’t it ironic that my own anxiety is stopping from taking anxiety medication for my anxiety? I just thought that was funny)].

She told me all the benefits of what she prescribed, and all the side effects. Also, she said that not every medication is meant for everyone so we might have to see what works for me. She gave me her contact info to keep her updated since according to her the first few weeks were critical.

So that along with something called CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) that I should see improvements, but things don’t happen over night. With due time. But for that to happen I have to start taking the meds.

I hope they help, I hope all this helps.

ICU, Paint, And Recovery

Success. My mother’s surgery went great. Ten long hours went by like a wink of an eye and it was soon over.

I’ve had an overwhelming amount of support from friends and people from church. I never imagined people would care. I know that most of them do it because it’s a nice thing to do. But I appreciate the ones that do it form the heart.

I haven’t slept much. While my mother has been in the hospital I wanted to surprise her when she comes back. I’m painting the kitchen and the bathroom. The bathroom will be blue and the kitchen will be white. I can’t wait for her to see it.

She’s been at the hospital since Friday. She was in ICU since this morning and then they moved her to a regular room. Which is great news. They want to discharge her by tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully she gets well soon. She’s walking on her own although she does need help getting up but that’s a great start.

Once she’s back home I’ll need to rest in between me taking care of her and also driving my brother to and from work. I don’t go back until October the ninth. I think I will be well rested for that.

Right now I’m trying really hard not to spend money since I’m not getting paid for this time off. But I know somehow we will get through this rut.

Stay Strong Mom

I woke up fifteen minutes before 4 AM in the morning. No alarm, no one woke me up. It was just the sensation that something was different.

My brother has been working night shifts and I am his ride, I have to pick him up at 4:30. Every morning everyday before I go to work. He usually calls me when I have to pick him up, today I was already awake and coming back from Starbucks. I needed coffee, let me rephrase that, I needed sugar.

Once my brother was home and said his goodbyes to my mother we drove to the hospital where her reconstruction surgery was going to take place. She was nervous I could tell. I was calm, at least that’s what I gave off in appearance.

We registered and got her admitted and soon we were speaking to the nurses and doctors regarding the surgery and the procedures. They explained what and how they were going to do it (again), it was pretty raw and gruesome, but that’s the way doctors should be.

Pretty soon I said good bye and watched her get wheeled away and taken. I had a minor flash back of last year when she had her mastectomy. Last year I was in a terrible place. I’m ok admitting that now.

Now I’m in a better place. Nonetheless, I do have emotions, and it is terrifying just being in a hospital in general. I am from Hispanic decent and if you have ever watched a Spanish soap opera, nothing good comes from hospital nurses mouths.

But I can’t think like that. A nurse updated me and said that everything is going well. No issues, just time. A lot of time left. I’ve been getting a lot of support from friends through social media.

I know they care, but is it wrong for me to ignore them? I need space. I need to focus. I need to center myself. With everyone asking and wishing for the best and saying it’s going to be ok is really overwhelming. It kind of screams at me hey your mom is in a intensive surgery that may or may not end her life ! But good luck!

This is not pushing people away. This is me getting myself together before I explode in front of them. I’m not one to break down in front of people, that’s not really my style. I collect myself and move on. If everyone is worried who’s gonna keep me sane?

Anyway I’m rambling now, I continue to hope and pray that the surgery is a success and that everything goes fine. I am nervous but not as much, I love my mom and losing her would be the worst possible thing in the world.

Stay strong mom. I love you.

I Will Not Break

I’m sitting in a target parking lot. I’m tired, I’m exhausted, I’m highly stress, but I refuse to to let anyone know. I refuse to step down from where I am and say that I am not ok. I refuse to have people pity me and feel sorry for everything that is going on in my life.

My mother goes into an intensive ten hour surgery this Friday. It has high risks and it also has benefits. Not to mention her car just broke down today.

Life is testing me. I will not break. I am strong. I refuse to cry. I am not weak.

I’ve been through so much that this just seems like another hill. I’m not cocky, this is not confidence. This is me telling myself that I can do it. That whatever this is will soon be over. Good or bad it will have I happen and I will have to move on.

Surgery

We have another life decision to make. Well, my mom does.

It’s time for her reconstruction surgery. We saw the doctor and he gave us two options of what she can chose to do.

The first one is the most common. Breast implants. It’s the usual surgery of implanting silicone bags where the breast used to be. There are not too many complications. The only down side is she would be needing to change the bags every 10 years or so, as it is recommended.

The other option, the one that frightens me, is having part of her own fat transferred from the stomach or another part of the body, to her breast.

This one has more complications. It involves the doctors removing fat and arteries from a part of her body and putting it the place where her old breast used to be. This surgery is 8-10 hour surgery and she would need to be under intensive care since it involves arteries.

The second one scares me the most since the surgery lasts so long and the fact that something can go wrong with the veins and such is what scares me the most. But it seems that this is the one she is leaning towards the most.

She explained that even though its so long and there are risks, once its all over it will be over, and it will be part of  her body. The implants she will have to replace every two years and her body might not take them well.

What made her even more confident is that the doctor told her that she was a great candidate for the fat transfer. Hearing this also made me feel better about that surgery but over all its her decisions and she will do what she thinks is  best for her.