Nine Day Breakdown - Can't Stop the Movies
Can't Stop the Movies
7May/194

Nine Day Breakdown

Depression Expression #1

Nine days ago, I woke up after spending the night in pain and went to the bathroom. The color of urine I produced was similar to that of the liquid that bug is struggling against above. I went to a local urgent care, received medication, and instructions to go to the ER if things got worse.

Seven days ago, things got worse. I was in the middle of a conversation with my mom trying to figure out what I was going to do when I started having the largest panic attack of my life. My breathing got so erratic and out of control that I lost most feeling in my hands and feet. I was barely able to get to my wife who, while talking to my parents, took me to the hospital. There I found out that the pain medication I was prescribed from the urgent care facility was making me extremely paranoid. I also confirmed the presence of a 8mm stone in my left kidney. Not that the stone's existence was in doubt, mind you, but the size was not yet determined so at least that bit of knowledge got filled in.

Five days ago, I went to see my therapist for the first time in almost two years. It did not go quite as I'd hoped. Whatever changes occurred in the time between our last visit and her relocation to her new surroundings made her defensive in an offensive way. At one point she told me that I must be taking pain meds like popping them out of a Pez dispenser. She said this because she misunderstood that I had only been on meds for a few days, and she thought I had been taking pain medication ever since the pain began (which, to the best of my knowledge, is the start of March). I've rarely felt the weight of a room change that dramatically when she realized her error. The rest of our session was confirming things I'd suspected about myself and what I needed to do next.

Three days ago, I was ready to roll over and just let nature do its thing. I don't know how I feel writing that. I don't want to die and I don't want to kill myself, but I just wanted to stop trying to do anything. I didn't know if I had the strength to go through a third round of kidney surgery. I didn't know how I'm going to get through the next few months with my job search stymied by this whole "whacked out on pain meds and horrifically depressed because I'm peeing blood" thing. I felt useless. I'm still feeling useless, but that was probably the lowest point. I could barely get up to give my cats water and had to ask my wife to help me with just about everything. I've always been consumed with this need to feel useful, to be protective if someone needs shielding, and even in my previous surgery bouts I've largely been able to keep functioning, keep working, keep cleaning, and so on. Not this time. This time I lost most of my will to just keep trying and the pain didn't help.

But that was three days ago. Today, something roared inside of me. Not broke, or felt pain (though there is still physical pain), or twisted into something horrible and unrecognizable. Instead what roared inside of me was something I recognized and needed. It was that urge to write. It doesn't pay the bills as I'd hoped, but it's what kept me going for so long and I can't abandon it. So the roar took me out of my bed where I was able to do some cleaning, take out the trash, and get a shower. I hurt, physically and emotionally, but it was hurt the roar started to diminish the pain (save, again, the physical pain).

And now I'm writing. I don't think this is going to be a particularly easy journey, so I need to be writing now more than ever. In truth I feel like that bug. Largely insignificant in the grand scheme of things, stuck in a hospital, and struggling not to drown in my own ache.  I don't think many of you will recognize that bug, but it's from Kieslowski's second film of The Decalogue "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain." And it's a story that ends, if not happily, then at least with the participants alive and the protagonist ethically secure in his future.

I feel like that's a fine thing to aim for. Survival. And part of that, at least for me, is documentation. I need to write. Even if it's just because whatever part of my body stays out of whack remains so only because I'm not writing. There's more to it than that, obviously, but this is what got me up and this is what got me going again so this is what it's going to be.

My plan, for now, is to end the day by writing and writing until I'm done. Will that be ten words or ten hundred? That'll depend on the day, but I will write. I will not let myself be paralyzed anymore and I know it will be hard but I have to keep trying.

I hope you'll come along with me on this. It won't be the reviews as normal, as I've been so depressed and in so much pain that I've barely been able to even watch any movies, but it may turn into something deeper.

Next Entry: Not Feeling Special In Small Rooms

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Posted by Andrew

Filed under: 2019 Leave a comment
Comments (4) Trackbacks (0)
  1. Here for it 💛

  2. Love you Andrew.


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