Yesterday, I couldn’t wait for the results of the biopsies to talk about what had gone on last week at the colonoscopy/upper endoscopy. Today, at around noon, I got a call about the results. They came back normal. At this point, I’m not surprised. It seems that the more I want answers, the less likely they seem to come. I know that is just a coincidence, but it is a very frustrating coincidence.
Mom had her recheck with the kidney doctor today. Her kidneys are continuing to get better from their failing state from last year. She’s still in kidney failure, but it is still improving. That’s a good thing. The only bad news that she really had from the doctor was that her potassium level was too high. She was told last year that she needed to watch out on the potassium, but it wasn’t as important to keep a watch on as her sodium consumption. She’s cut the sodium out quite a bit, but she started eating more and more potassium laden food (sweet potatoes, okra, etc.) and now she’s got to figure out how to cut back on that. She whined some today about how there won’t be any food left that she can eat once she adds low potassium into her low sodium diet. If she would lower her sugar intake, like she is supposed to, I might think that she was being a bit less over-dramatic about that comment.
Tomorrow I finally get to see my psychiatrist. I’m almost tempted to beg her to put me in the hospital so that I can get away from my mom’s whining (which can sometime turn into extreme bitchiness) and my dad’s whining (which usually turns into rage/anger). Honestly, their moods are not helping my mood. Part of the time I just keep my mouth shut and try to become invisible so that their attitudes don’t end up messing with my own, but it doesn’t seem to be working. With each whining, ranting moment, I end up getting more and more stressed out, which makes me more and more depressed. And when I say that their moods have made me feel, at times, like killing myself, I can stress that I am not being over-dramatic about that. (Their moods tend to bring up their somewhat suppressed feelings about me [i.e. that they think I’m lazy, rude, and a lifelong screw-up], which end up reminding me of everything that ever made me feel like shit in my life, triggering my lack of self-esteem and wacky, masochistic brain to think that the only good thing that I could ever do in this world is end my life.) So, yeah, going to the hospital might be the only thing that keeps me from going off the deep end from their moodiness. Of course, I won’t do it because I still have issues related to psych hospitals from the whole 2001 experience–ranging from the way I was treated there (being laughed at when I cried) to my mom’s suicide attempt after being contacted from the billing office at the hospital about my stay.