Basil’s Health & My Own, Part 2

Though we’re still waiting for the results of Basil’s lab work, I’m happy to say he’s doing much better. No more vomiting, no more diarrhea. The special, short-term diet seems to have helped, as usual. Still, I hate waiting.

As for me, the ECT went smoothly. The anesthesia wasn’t too much and I probably could have been up and around the next day. Unfortunately, the GI thing has reared its ugly head again. If you’re squeamish, don’t bother reading the rest of this post.

For the past two or three weeks, the daily enemas have been less effective, taking longer to work and with less coming out. On Tuesday it didn’t work at all, which resulted in me having an accident in bed — just leftover water from the enema though, I guess. When I got up to go to the bathroom, and yes, to put on a fucking diaper, I managed to get a little bit out. I was an emotional wreck, and the bed was all wet, and I totally freaked. Brian had to take a cab home from work during his lunch hour to help me: change pajamas, change the sheets, etc.

He called the CRS’s office but couldn’t get an appointment ’til next Tuesday. Meanwhile, the doctor said to keep using the enemas. WTF?! I think I used it on Wednesday morning and got a little bit out, but I totally didn’t listen and used Ex-Lax on Wednesday night because I wanted to make sure I was poop-free for practice last night. Well, this whole thing has caused such a depression that it didn’t make a difference, anyway. I mean, yeah, it worked, and this morning I used an enema that worked some (I didn’t eat much yesterday, anyway), but I’ve been so depressed since the incident on Tuesday that I’ve stayed in bed all week except on a few occasions to check e-mail and get lost in different worlds on Crackbook and a little on Neopets.

I missed my therapist appointment on Wednesday afternoon, though she’s been OK with doing phone sessions for a few weeks, because the cleaning lady was over. She usually gets me out of the house because I don’t want to be in her way, but not this week. She also arrived later than usual, so she was still here during my appointment time, and since the cell phone reception totally sucks in our building, I have to be in a specific spot to hold a conversation, but the cleaning lady was vacuuming there at the time.

I also missed my pdoc appointment on Thursday because I couldn’t get my ass (haha) out of bed. As I mentioned earlier, taking the Ex-Lax didn’t matter, though it did get a lot of the poop out, but I was unable to make it to practice. Usually I can pull myself together and go to practice or a game no matter how I feel, and Brian didn’t play basketball to help me. Still, he didn’t get home early enough for me to eat dinner a good time before having to do my stretches without incident. Certainly not his fault. I couldn’t even fucking feed myself, that’s how depressed I’ve been, or I would have eaten dinner before he even got home.

Granted, some of this may be my fault: I’ve sort of been abusing food for the past few weeks; that is, eating more of the foods that I should only eat once in a very great while — like the fried mozzarella sticks and Coke I had after our third game. I’m supposed to avoid fried foods, which I usually do, and I haven’t drank anything carbonated in about a year. There’ve been other things — comfort foods — to make me feel better because of the fibroid depression. Now I think I’m paying for it. Well, better food than cutting, drinking, or drugs. Actually, it really isn’t any better, I’m finding out. I still need to learn to cope with my emotions on my own.

We don’t have a game this weekend, thankfully, but last week, I agreed to sub for the Vixens’ goalie because she’s out of town this weekend. Perhaps I agreed too hastily, but all I thought I’d have to deal with was an anesthesia hangover from the ECT, which I didn’t have. It’s too late to back out now, but as I said in my text message to the Tigers Orange team manager last night, if we did have a game this weekend, I’d be there.

I was scared I’d have an accident at practice last night, and it isn’t exactly easy being discreet in a locker room about wearing a frickin’ diaper. Plus we were sharing ice with the White team, and I just don’t feel comfortable around them with the exception of a few people. If it was just the Orange team, some of the veterans remember that I went through this last year, so it wouldn’t have been so bad.

At any rate, it’s too late to back out of subbing for the Vixens now, and I think playing in the game will do me good — this was the team we played against last week, the game I didn’t even want to go to because of Basil having to return to the vet, etc. I’ll write that game post tomorrow or something. Now I’m less concerned about having an accident as I am about not having stretched at all this week. I was a bit worried about not having a practice either, but then again, during the spring and summer leagues, there weren’t any practices, just games. I’m hoping tomorrow’s game will be the springboard I need to get back into the swing of life.