For my previous post, I dug through some of my old online journal entries, and I found some gems that might show what goes on through a patient’s mind in bouts of depression, attempts to stay normal, with a mixture of self-pity and maybe a touch of drug-induced mania:
“For some reason, I got into a really crazy bio mood yesterday, so I read up on almost everything related to my disease again. All my medications (and all forms of them), all forms of [my disease], etc. Great stuff. Except every time I read any of these things, I always get incredibly sad. I don’t know. Does it make sense that I can feel pity for my sick self? It sort of relies on me separating into two different entities, which sounds really schizophrenic to me.” I agree!
“This is basically a guilt entry to list everything that I want to eat but can’t. xD Hey, it’s a weird way of consoling myself, but if it works, it works: Cheeseburgers, Fries, Yogurt, Macaroni and cheese, Lobster, Lobster bisque soup, Ramen noodles, Chips of every nature, Oranges, Chocolate, Hash browns, Quesadillas, Lasagna, Peanut butter, Omelets with cheese and ham, Milkshakes, Chicken noodle soup” I do recall how desperate I was for these foods…
When I finally got my cheeseburger: “Oh. The best part was that I HAD FIVE GUYS!! I know!! I had to ask for no salt, I couldn’t have condiments/anything added, I took my phosphate binder, and I was only allowed to eat half of the cheeseburger, but WOW, so much love. I’ve probably killed my sodium limit today, but AHH, it was so worth it. Simple pleasures, people, simple pleasures.”
“If you ever want to look like a self-mutilating, anorexic, pregnant woman, definitely get in touch with me. I mean, my goodness. I look like I beat myself or something.” Also see: malnourished African child, Holocaust survivor.
“APPARENTLY, I might be done with dialysis. Forever. Waiting for a call later today. Yay! Also, apparently, because my kidneys are semi-working now, I’m actually not getting ENOUGH fluid? Oy. So now I have to constantly drink water. But that’s okay, because it means I’m getting better, and if I’m getting better, then everything’s okay. Last night I had a hepatitis scare (Francis knows), but it turns out it’s only the dehydration thing. Whew. Yeah, don’t ask how I jumped from dehydration to hepatitis.” I’m not sure how I jumped to hepatitis either but thanks to my friend for being there for me in bout of insanity.
And some on my motivation for medicine: “I’m sure a lot of people here would be surprised to see me sick. And they’d probably say the same thing that all my east coast friends said, something along the lines of ‘you’re so strong’. Really? Maybe. Why is it that when we’re sick we feel this need to make everything normal? Is that how we rationalize things? Kind of like if I pretend I’m okay, then maybe I will be okay? Because I know I try to act that way all the time. But there are moments, moments before I get my test results back, moments when I read about people being sick, moments when I watch anything medical-related, that I get really scared. I’ve still got several years ahead of me before I can say I’m ‘cured’. And I want to be careful so that I will be okay, but I also don’t want these years to just pass me by. I want to be USEFUL. Life is here for us to give it meaning, so I want to freaking give it meaning, not lie around and wait for meaning to come upon me, damn it.”
“On days when I don’t want to wake up because I’m too tired, or when I don’t want to work at all because I’m lazy, I remember people like those in the dialysis center I was dialyzed at. I remember people like Victor. Somehow, in some way, I hope that the lives I may get to save will make up for all of those who lost theirs too early. Somehow, there is karma; somehow, the universe is fair, and for every life that is lost, there is one that is saved. So I get up, regardless of how tired I am, and I keep going.”
under my scrubs 