The BPPV didn’t go away, it got worse. I saw a neurologist and had a CT scan which showed up nuddah. The neurologist suggested I had some kind of CHVS, Chronic Hyperventilation Syndrome, and sent me packing. I was having panic attacks 3-4 times a day, but at this stage they weren’t diagnosed as that. Brilliant doctors decided I had Major Depressive Disorder, and tried to medicate accordingly.
What was interesting about this turn of events is that I had spent about 10 years ‘clean’…not taking any mind altering substances; not drinking and maintaining a pretty descent diet. And their first thought was to pump me full of medication. By this time though, I was so wobbly on my feet, I think I would have kissed a frogs ass if they said it would help. I tried yoga and breathing exercises to help with the dizziness…aka undiagnosed anxiety! No one thought to look at my history and when I mentioned it…pointing to the obvious in my files…they all said it wouldn’t have anything to do with it.
I had numerous events throughout my life that made me question the ‘truth’ or ‘knowledge’ that doctors and specialists espouse. And this occasion was no different. But I was slowly loosing my will to fight which just solidified their original diagnosis of depression.
How much does that fuck me off now! If a woman is a little wobbly…teary…stressed…and they can’t find a cause…they must be fucking depressed! I was depressed…but not because I was sad…because I couldn’t fucking move and they wouldn’t fucking listen.
Which is a theme I’m beginning to recognise!
Anyways…I tried to manage myself…I stopped driving here, because every time I got behind the wheel I’d get dizzy and get to the verge of passing out…not exactly the best way to drive. But this took away some of the freedom that I had. And then when work became unbearable they medically discharged my ass…oh but not before they questioned the fuck out of me…crossed their tees and dotted their I’s. I got a minimal payout and was sent packing.
All this put a huge strain on our little fucked up blended family. And then to top that off my partner broke his ankle/leg in two places and then lost his job. As things got tense-er at home, my partner would flare up at anything and everything which made my jittery self even more jittery. We still hadn’t hit on any type of anxiety disorder at this stage…and all that was happening around me spun me further and further down.
Our relationship turned violent; I kicked him out and we ended up in court. I was reasonably heavily medicated at this time and the court process sucked ass and added to the…that’s right, undiagnosed anxiety.
I paid outstanding bills with my payout and thought I was covered with my Insurance…and being the thorn in the ass of humanity that they are…they saw fit not to pay out after I’d been medically discharged…something to do with pre-existing conditions…assholes. I fought that one and got my insurance money back that I had paid over the years previous, but they wouldn’t cover me for anything.
So, in a house I couldn’t afford, with a teenager who was struggling at school, and who I couldn’t afford to feed anymore…I applied for a benefit. DECLINED. Even though I had diligently paid for my bills with my payout from work, I wasn’t entitled to anything for 6 months. How fucked up is our system! So I sold what I could leaving us with the bare minimum…my landlord reduced my rent…which was completely awesome of them…and we barely lived on the remainder of the payout…just enough to pay rent and buy $40 worth of food.
So single, bruised, broken and poor…again…I retreated further into my safety shell. I thought I was going mad…maybe I was. I reckon a body and mind can only deal with so much stuff at any one time…without breaking. And as I re cap my life…its been continuous with brief moments of relief.
No wonder I’m a little fucked!
Toward the end of this year I think I had tried about 6 different anti depressants, all with pretty haywire side effects, for my body anyway. One being a weight gain of about 30kgs…up side was I wasn’t loosing weight anymore ;). I was continuously nauseous and achy, still wobbly and panicky. I was taking benzos as part of treatment for hyperventilation and insomnia. I loved those little blue pills…I was actually able to sleep without nightmares for once. I was also taking a concoction of what I call anti-wobble medication. Both of these also have dreadful side effects…addiction being one of them.
I would have tried the natural therapies again but, due to no insurance and no money I couldn’t afford it. A doctors visit was about $50 and the medications were $3. You can see how you end up rolling with the pharmaceutical route…its cheaper! Not so cheap in the long run though.
I tried to make plans and goals for the following year, hoping that would get me back on track. But I was pretty much sinking into a vegetative state. I partially embraced it…being numb was normal for me…and safe…being numb and fried out on legal medication…and sleeping like a new-born babe…totally awesome…
for the now anyways.
Not so great a couple of years down the track though.