I went through the rest of 2006 enjoying a period of relative peace and calm. The bonking episodes of fatigue and mental stuff were still coming, but the duration would be anywhere from 6 hours to 2 days. Deal-able.
But the peace was all relative. Things were better, but I still didn't feel like a million bucks. I didn't really KNOW that I didn't feel like a million bucks. I do know that now.
I was not sleeping. The hamster simply would not get off the wheel at night. My older son was struggling in school, finances were tight, I was working and thinking about working all the time and not really making much money. My fibrocystic breasts were painful and getting lumpier, seemingly by the minute. A mammogram came back questionable. We were looking at spending the first Christmas away from our family. Ever. I had a HUGE volunteer job I was involved in. My church has pretty much decided to just leave me out of all the committees and responsibilities...not asking me to serve anything in any capacity (in their defense, they thought they were trying to help by not complicating my life).
The stress was building. The sleep debt was piling up. The credit card had a recurring $1,100 on it that I kept paying off and re-accumulating. I'm not a "credit person." That $1,100 dogged my mind!
Things were getting a little overwhelming.
I called the gynecologist in November and told them about the sleep problem. They prescribed Ambien. It worked pretty well. For a while. But I didn't want to take it every day. It actually added more stress to my life, trying to analyze whether I should go without it or not. I'd decide not to, drop off to sleep, only to wake at 2 and be up for a couple of hours. Then in January my insurance company decided to only pay for 15 sleeping pills every 23 days. So even if I were willing to take it every night, I'd have to choose 8 nights every 23 to not sleep.
Emotionally I became mired. I wanted to stay home, away from everyone. But then I wanted to be with my friends because I was tired of myself.
Then I began to get paranoid. I worried I was going to wear out my closest friends. My best friend would listen to me as I spun my wheels, helping me to think out what was happening. Encouraging me. Loving me. Hugging me. And I was worried she'd get too tired of my baggage and neediness.
Finally one day in March I just broke. I knew I needed more help. I knew it was depression and I couldn't deny it any longer. My friend Lis described my situation so eloquently:
"It's just that that the sucky stuff sort of soaks into every damn part of it."
I called my doctor's office. They could not get me an appointment for 3 weeks. I called my gynecologist's office. They offered an appointment in 3 MONTHS. So I left a message for the nurse. I described for her what was happening and she referred me back to the G.P. "This is a bit out of our purview," she said.
REALLY. Depression related to menopause is out of the purview of a GYNECOLOGIST?)So I called the G.P. again and asked for an appointment as quickly as I could get. It was set for March 28. "Good," I figured. "Maybe I'll be out of this a bit and can speak clearly about what's happening."
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