So Close

I'm so close to being ready to open up my heart again.
I can taste it in the back of my throat,
The readiness, not my heart.
My heart isn't in my throat anymore.
But what I want is on the tip of my tongue,
Trying to avoid the spot that tastes bitter.
The problem is I am a romantic
I see every opportunity as a sign
OPEN
I see every prolonged glance
As a connection
But a glance is more like a brush with something
Not a true connection
Or so my literal self tells me
I don't know exactly what I want
It's been so long since
There was such a selection
Since I ordered for myself a flavour never tasted
I imagine what each will taste like
As if my imagination will do it justice,
Or save me from another bad taste left in my mouth.

Small Luxuries

What I've wanted for Christmas for two years:  2 meters of super soft faux fur material.  I get it, we don't always get what we ask for.  We need to be thankful for what we do get, and I am.  But today, as I stared at the half price sale on the very gift I had been coveting for so long, I felt guilt.  Such a luxury,.  Should I spend the money?  I remembered my mother handing me cash and telling me to get myself something really nice for Christmas.  She had that "I mean it" look on her face.  So I did it.  Man, I have been looking forward to bedtime ever since.

I shall pour myself a cup of peppermint tea, light some candles, listen to music and cuddle up in my new silky soft throw and truly revel in how amazing life is that I can do this.  Eat, Pray, Love was a book I started when I left my ex, and though I have yet to finish it,  I loved how she really took time to nourish her senses, recognizing her self worth through this practise.  She deserved to feel good, she deserved to remind herself of all the good this material world had to offer.  I deserve that too.

So my friends who are also tentatively healing from heartbreak, do something luxurious for yourself. Eat your favourite dessert, buy those comfy pj's, slip on that sexy lingerie under your work clothes, choose the flavoured frothy coffee over your usual, double double.  Make plans that you look forward to.  Fall in love with your life again.

The Joy of Toys

Today I was very mindful of my thoughts, I named them and let them go.  I'm pretty proud of myself.  I also did some silly fun things. When it was quiet and all my chores were done, I took down one of each of the big kid riding toys and rode them all over the store.  I tried to Ollie the spoon toy, but being as I could never ollie a skateboard either, I gave up.  My thighs, arms and core muscles loved the workout.  I'm telling you my fellow bite sized parents: get these toys for your kids, then put your kids to bed early so you can have a fun work out.  I also (accidentally) played dominoes with the lower shelf of the craft section...  

Playing is such an important part of mental and physical health.  How appropriate that I get a toy store job at a time in my life where I need light hearted play.

Thanks A lot

One of our family rituals was to sing "thanks a lot" before the kids went to sleep.  As I became increasingly ill, the kids came and sat on my bed to sing it and sometimes I would fall asleep before their bedtime and they would sing it with Scott.

Thanks a lot, is based on Raffi's song, but we'd make up our own lyrics about what we were thankful for that day.  On our journey to finding a home, that ritual all but disappeared.  But tonight, we started again and it was beautiful.  There was no hesitation anymore, the kids gratitude slipped easily from their lips with huge smiles on their faces.  Hugs were had while we sang it.

We have daily love rituals; snuggles in my bed in the morning, making dinner together, reading a chapter of a book at night, playing a game and now reintroducing "thanks a lot".  Part of recieveing love is learning how to give it again.  Though I loved my children during this entire process, it felt like we were just getting by for a while. I often felt like all my energy was used up teaching, feeding and cleaning up after them.  The extras, they were just a bonus if I could fit them in.  Now I see how necessary they are, these bonding moments that help to give you that boost, the boost that makes lice laundry not seem so daunting.  The bonding that allows you to respond with more compassion rather than reacting with frustration when they are not listening.

Here's to love rituals and the sense of warmth they provide.

Holy Shit

Getting back on track as we settle into our daily math classes.  Independent learning projects take on lives of their own.  Originally the kids were suppose to study their favourite natural disasters, show me on the globe where they are most likely to happen, explain to me what causes them, then write a fiction short story about someone in that natural disaster and include safety steps.  Jack asked if he could show me in a play instead.  I said "Okay, as long as you write out your play."  They spent an hour this afternoon creating props(Joon has agreed to be in the play as well).

I figured out my credit card issue yesterday, got a job today.  Part time so that I can still homeschool but save some money as well.  I found a friend to be creative with, I'm going to see one of my favourite artists play in December. I'm working on a new fundraiser. My friends are awesome, supportive people.

I'm doing it.  I am living how I want to live.   I think I may have pulled it off.  Holy shit.

Money Can't Buy This Kind of Happiness

So, this month, is always the toughest financially.  Because the Family Responsibility office takes my child support off every other pay check.  Three pay check months means my child support payments are delayed. One payment only this month and of course $50.00 in lice treatments.  So yeah, we are visiting the Food bank.  But, rent will be made,  the kids have winter jackets, boots, mitts and snow pants. I'm looking for part time work at the moment, we'll see what comes up.  

None the less, even with my tightened budget,  I am happy.  I feel loved, accepted and wanted. I  finally understand friendship.  For so long I had so few friends,  and I couldn't see them very often.  

I was feeling bad about not being able to afford all the activities the children wanted to be in.  I asked my kiddos, if they were still happy that we moved, even if we don't have as much money.  They both emphatically nodded "Yes."  

I was feeling a little sorry for myself a few days ago...then a friend asked on Facebook about chronic pain and how it affects emotions.  Then as I listed all of the horrible things I was feeling during my illness; the guilt of not being able to keep up with housework, the hopelessness of no diagnosis/treatment and the feeling of being a complete burden on my partner.  It reminded me of how far I have come emotionally, of how many days I cried while I ran my bath so my children couldn't hear me.

Yep, Money's tight.  There isn't someone warming my bed at night.  But I have laughter, and conversation.  I have understanding and support.  I love these people who are in my life,  they are kind and fun, I feel like they really want to be there, like they are not hanging out with me because of some sense of duty.  They could at any point leave my life, but they don't.  They send me messages of love and encouragement, they do not judge me.  

I don't know how I would have done this without them.  I feel incredibly blessed to have these people in my life.

The heart of the house

Today I did my banking, paid my rent and went grocery shopping with my kids.  When we got home, I lit a candle in my kitchen, I asked the kids to play upstairs and I prepared our meal.  I chopped carrots and cucumbers and put them in containers for future snacks.  I cut cheese into cubes for easy eating.  I made broccoli soup, pasta and pea meal bacon (I prepared it like a roast in the oven).  My kids came downstairs, they sat at the table and chatted while I poured their soup.  I leaned down and pulled out the roasting pan and felt this warmth spread over me.  It felt like Christmas, it felt like family, it felt like home.  I felt amazing and whole. I began to cry, I was so overwhelmed by this feeling. For years stress and conflict surrounded the kitchen, surrounded food preparation and cleaning.  I forgot how satisfying cooking a meal for your family can be, how food can be translated into love.  My children understood, they saw my tears and my smile and My daughter said: "Happy Thanksgiving mommy, thank you for making us this meal."  We all knew it wasn't our thanksgiving, but she felt it too.  We cleaned up together and ate forgotten gelato for dessert.   Another piece of me healed today,  we healed together today as a family.  We are going to be alright.  We are going to be just fine.

More friends

Running behind, looks like we'll be home late on the 8th.  Met a man who has been travelling for the last year through working for room and food.  Great for someone without kids, but until my kids can pitch in, not really an option for me, but cool idea none the less.

Two hour long conversation with Ben, who's wife is a midwife.  Touching onFrank Breech, writing epiphanies, being in-lone with yourself.   I have really been enjoying conversation and connections with males in which there is no possibility of a sexual relationship.  The conversation continues simply out of the enjoyment of itself, of sharing ideas and experiences. Why in most instances did I assume that the males to which I am speaking main reasons for continuing conversations with me is sexual interest?  Why can't I attribute it to the fact that they may really be enjoying the conversation?  Were these thoughts because I'm trying to protect myself from being hurt and feeling fooled?  Are they because I no longer feel that I am an interesting enough person to hold a conversation with, without the possibility of a sexual relationship building?  Perhaps a bit of both.  We'll see when I leave my train bubble, whether or not this assumption creeps back over me during my next few conversations with males who are not sexually available.

Peace

On the ferry back.  I like to torture myself with adventure and uncertainty said the man behind me.  There's still so much I want to see and do in this province.  Maybe next year we will plan a several stop trip.  It doesn't look like Edmonton Mall is in the cards this one.

The view of the mountain range is amazing.  How small everything will seem in Muskoka when I get back.  Also, how cold.  It hasn't been below 12 degrees while we have been outside during this entire trip.  I lost my jacket too.  Had to buy a new one, so I purchased a less sexy but warmer one for the trip home.

I woke up to an eerie fog surrounding the train. I never thought of fog as eerie before, but perhaps that's because I always knew what lay beyond it.  There were sandbanks that served as driftwood graveyards and a green river flowed around them.  Bald eagles perched on the grave markers watching the water for signs of life.  It was beautiful, the scene struck me with the same sense of awe as the mountains, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.  Factory ghost towns line this once prosperous section of the railway.  This trip has shown me the frailty of our economy, like watching dominos in slow motion, the warehouses in the process of being torn down, parking lots empty for all but two or three cars...each company along the line just one step behind the other,  our creeky old train serving as a death rattle along the way.  So many opportunities for green energy and renewable resources to breath life back into these rural communities, why isn't our government wooing these industries?  Where are these hemp farms?  Why couldn't that pulp processing plant get an economic grant to become a hemp processing plant?  Our next pm should ride this railway and get a play by play of every crumbling community along the way.  There is no work, their houses are worth nothing, these families are packing up their most precious possessions and moving to cities to get minimum wage jobs.

6 Bald eagles

Met a family travelling from China to Halifax, the father was from Canada originally.  They believed Canada was going down the tubes, that China, though communist was a better place to live.  They told me that there are no supports there, that there was no victim mentality.  I never really thought about Canada's victim mentality.  Our system seems to be built in a way to keep those on social assistance, on social assistance.  Only certain programs actually encourage and even allow a person to upgrade their skills in order to obtain more permanent or higher paying employment.  Personal growth is highly discouraged except in the case of a student looking to get a loan that is.

Looking out the window at the mountains, looking down at the river, forgetting that The train I am on is on a mountain itself.  Don't become so far obsessed  with looking out at other miraculous views, that you forget the miracle of what is right underfoot.

I love how the my whole world changes according to my soundtrack.  My mountainous surroundings suddenly became bad-ass as so whatcha want blasts into my ears, I love travelling with Simon and Garfunkle, the Lumineers, Shaky Graves... but beastie boys adds a whole other level.  I've been tempted to skip the love songs, because naturally my brain wants to associate with my last example of love.  I will not run, I tell myself.  I will let my memories flow through my mind, I will not judge them.

The trip home is timed in a way that is allowing us to see the landscape we slept through on the way here.

Adult conversation, children playing cards.  Mountains shifting, turning, growing.

Thinking about where to go when the kids go to their dad's.  A night in Kingston? Ottawa?  Should I ask someone to come on my adventure?  Would anyone I know be up for something like that?

Is this something I should be doing on my own?  Maybe.

They are blasting the roots of the mountains here...

The landscape inspires me to write, but when I do I miss the landscape.  What a cruel thing a muse can be. It's hard to type not looking down when you can't feel the keys descend under your finger tips.

The only red in the mountains are dead conifers.

I like to picture the jagged mountain tops to be collapsing stone castles.  Bucket list addition: see Britain's castles.

Wise ladies sing to me through my earphones: Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world... I was a long time coming and I'll be a longtime gone, you've got your whole life to do something and that's not very long.  So preoccupied with my emotional bullshit I forgot that I got a world to improve.  I forgot how powerful I was, I focused all of my healing energy on a small unit.  That is not my purpose.  I see that again.  I remember that shift happening, I remember the energy focusing into my womb, into my home, into my arms, into my lap, Into my breasts, into my hands, into my lullabies, into my bedtime stories, into my family no matter what that looked like at the time. I forgot how to expand joy, how to exhale joy, how to let it swirl off me like mist as I walk down the street.  I forgot how to ACCEPT joy, I forgot that I do not have to work for it, I do not have to look for it in good deeds, in beautiful landscapes, in lovers, in children, in friends, in ritual, in talismans, in adventure.  Joy is there, patiently waiting behind these things from which I catch glances, she waves cheerfully at me.  I kept putting conditions on my joy, I will feel Joy when I have done _________, I will feel joy when I stop _________, I will feel joy when I start __________.  There are no conditions on feeling Joy. None.  You are always worthy of joy, at all times, in all situations, joy is there, it is okay to feel it, it is okay to express it.  Joy is possible in loss, it is possible in fear, it is possible in anger, for these are passing emotions, a joy based in wonder and the miraculous existence of self: this is eternal, this cannot be tapped out, for as long as you exist your life is miraculous, period.  You are animated stardust capable of consciously and unconsciously affecting the world around you, an inexhaustible source of joy and wonder right there. I accept joy, fully, completely and unconditionally.

Missed a Facebook message from James Gray while in Jasper, seems like we just missed each other in our travels.  He just crossed into BC as we came upon Jasper.  I wonder if he saw our train?  Many of his songs were in my travel soundtrack.

Well how do you follow something like that?
 
The Baker, The Free Hug guy, The looks like Neisha  Coleman girl, friend met in Vancouver that I forget the name of.... Jig saw puzzles, food additives, self sufficiency, swans vs Canada geese, via can rail passes.  If you go out and do things you think are cool, you will meet other people who enjoy doing the same things.  Easy concept to say, cool concept to experience.  What a great group that jumped on in Saskatoon.  I love the train.

Things I learned about train travel:

You'd be amazed at how large your carry-on can be: if you think you might need it bring it in your carry on.
Bring blankets it's bloody cold at night.
Grocery shop whenever you can at the stops.
Breakfast is affordable, all other meals are best purchased at the super market then brought on board.
Say "hi" to everyone.
People who think they may never see you again will share very personal things with you and vice versa.
Train time is confusing when traveling east to west and west to east: tally mark smudges on your window maybe necessary.
Wifi and cellphones will not work for most of the trip.
Most stations are in the middle of nowhere and have nothing to offer in necessities, buy what you need while you can, do not put it off until the next stop.
Always have your camera ready.
Put down your camera.

Dilapidated farmhouses, fascinating and sad.  Tall barns with little houses on top. Coyotes, eagles, hawks.  I don't know why people refer to the prairies as boring... The sporadic glassy ponds are crystal blue and the foliage that encircle them complementary oranges and yellows.  Prairie sunsets, the word panoramic falls horribly short of the mark.  It's the imax of sunset enjoyment up here in the dome car.

Live music, I spotted the musician earlier today in conversation.  There needs to be a better term than musiciandar.  Guitardar?

Last Day on the Island

I belong on the ocean, walking in the surf, finding shells and hopping over jellies.  So many "we're hiring" signs... If the children were old enough to ride the train alone to visit their father perhaps...but not yet.  There are wave hazard signs here like we have burning signs.  There are tsunami evacuation route signs along the west coast of the island.  We weaved through valleys as mountains rose up around us.  Ocean on one side, freshwater rivers on the other.  There were a few spots that reminded me of Muskoka in the Summer, but never for long.

At the beach, I kept wondering if I would run into someone from my past, many people seemed to have one or two features in common with my friend Alan, I suppose though, you see what you want to see.  I imagined greeting him with a hug, but realized I was desiring something that was not in my reality, and my reality at the moment was freakin' awesome as is.

Tacofino.

Love songs made-up on the spot by my kiddos as they dance around me.  "I love you mommy, I love you mommy, you are awesomeness"

Sunsets on secluded lakes brimmed with jagged hills.

Avalanche discussions.  Road farts (rumble strips).

Longer rides home then there.  Sibling stories.

Piper's Lagoon; tide pools,baby crabs, slimy smooth rocks, jagged climbing paths and beautiful barnacle scarred drift wood. Little fingers collecting crabs in empty shells, squeals and giggles as they get loose and scuttle away. Little people holding grimy hands, dirt streaked faces, wet pant cuffs and pockets full of treasures.

Scrub Jays and Peaceful Ways

Scrub Jays.  Today I saw Scrub Jays (actually Steller's Jays scrub Jay being my childhood nick name for them) Since I was Jack's age, I would open my National Geographic North American wildlife book, open it to the "Jay" pages and read.  I would draw them incessantly, promising myself I would see all three.  I grew up around Blue Jays, my first Grey Jay I saw with Scott and the kids on a hike.  Today, in Nanaimo, I saw my first Scrub Jays.  Another bucket wish list checked.

Walked downtown Nanaimo, probably in the most round about way possible.  The snacks I packed were left behind by Jack, so saving money like I planned, is not happening.  We found Lois Lane, and ventured into a comic shop there.  That is where they spent Nana Hill's souvenir money :).  Waiting to eat is not going to stop the fact that I need to spend money on eating. We just got to a park that Jooniper has renamed the Awesomeness Park, and I'm totally hungry.  It's amazing how things can suddenly look up after getting a few carbs and protein into you.  We shared a single fish and chip basket.  Yep, I had fish.  I craved it, I was on the seaside and I needed quick protein.  It was great, and the perfect amount of fries.  My kids finished them and felt full.  All three of us fed for $11.00.  Not bad.

I held a sea star in my hand.  It was deep red with white speckles.  We counted them clinging to the rocks and docks.  A 3 inch jelly fish undulated by, the first live one we've seen so far.

The neighbours were arguing last night, it brought back many awful memories and moments I am not proud of.  Why did I stay and fight?  Why did I argue for hours to prove that my feelings were valid and important?  Why did I base my self worth on his opinion?  So many hours I spent trying to make up with him that I should have been spending with my children... I can't go back, so now is the time to model compassion and understanding for my children, to prove to them that their feelings are important.  We can live a peaceful life again.

My cousin is home today, I wonder what adventure we will embark on together?

The blood moon approaches.  Red eclipse Super moon and I am at a park with my babies.  I dreamt about this week's ago.  In my dream the moon blew to pieces, the ocean stopped moving and we all knew it was over.  Strangely enough, when it happened we were watching from a park.  This was the dream in which my male partner for once was not Scott, it was a man I haven't met yet.  Though it was the end of the world, the dream gave me hope.   When I had this dream I was probably subconsciously aware a lunar eclipse was coming, (flashing by on Facebook) but this scene I'm in at this park is creepy, it is so alike this dream.

I suppose I should be meditating, though writing is like a meditation of sorts for me.  Maybe if I hold some prayer beads in my hands... As always the kids are making friends and running around with eachother.  I really wish this thing could capture what I see.

Hastings and Main, so many tense and sad people.  So many people walking by as if nothing was out of order.  I understand that we have to accept what we cannot change (that does not mean that we should not try to end homelessness, but to accept that at that very moment you will not be able to
house and take care of every person on the street) but it is so hard to watch that hardening  take place.

The kids have been an amazing help with the transit system.  They are such good sports and navigators.  I really hope that this will help them gain confidence and a love of travel.

Said goodbye to Mike and Vancouver city.  Though there were some very cool aspects of Commercial Street and Stanley Park that I would like to explore further, it was just a bit too fast paced for me.

I took the Ferry to Nanaimo, and not even a hint of nausea.  I was wearing Sea bands and took Gravol but the water was calm and the ferry was so large, I'm not sure how much I needed either treatment.  I saw orcas from afar, and a panoramic view of the mountains, just breath taking.

My cousin's home is welcoming, I enjoyed making dinner with her while our kids played at the park together.  We sat at a table and ate dinner.  I have missed this.  Tomorrow we shall explore Nanaimo and look for haunted sites, which is one of my favourite ways to learn local history with the kids.

The morning was a blur of sky trains and buses.  Quick showers, iPad reconnections Facebook reunions.  I couldn't settle.  Old fears emerged.  My brain played out negative scenarios while I planned escape routes.  My goodness I have work to do.  It's amazing how shy one can feel around someone they had known so intimately over a decade before.  Skype and Facebook messages over a month and a half, haven't made it easy for me to meet his eyes for long periods of time.  I feel like we are starting all over again, but my heart is so guarded.  I feel my chest muscles tighten like I'm crossing my arms in front of me.  This is not how I saw things playing out.  I keep thinking that this is weakness,  but one should not force open the bud of a young flower, but marvel in the beauty of it's pedals unfolding.

Three Days Until The Adventure Begins

I bounce between a feeling of pure excitement and that of anxiety... I really dislike bus stations, waiting in lines etc.  Since travelling strapped into a seat for hours and hours was a normal part of my childhood, the bus travel feels just fine.  My children have always been great travellers as well.  However, living in a small town for the last 10 years (already?) has re-sensitized me to the big city bustle.  I will need to remember to breath, and see the anxiety as excitement.  After all it's not an adventure if there isn't an element of challenge and risk (even if that risk is simply not being able to find the bus terminal right away).

As part of our home education, my little bug and buddy will be blogging their experiences on here as well.

Bug: I'll never forget these awesome experiences. I'm  looking forward to traveling with my family and seeing new places.

Buddy: I want to go to Stanley park.  I want to run around and play tag.  Fun is what I am.

I'm trying to leave the house tidy for the tenant moving in the day we leave for our trip. It has been a challenge, there will be the inevitable fridge clean-out and remaining fruit and veggie dinners.  Garbage cans with food emptied and searching the kids room for that one bowl that seems to have gone missing...again.  Normally this would feel like a chore, but not now.  Every step is a reminder of how much closer we are to our adventure.  Thank you to everyone who has given us support As we step into this journey.  More pictures and posts to come!

Frustration

Over a year has passed since I initially became sick.  No diagnosis yet. I am sleeping 12-14 hours a day to get maybe 4 hours of activity which includes a lot of sitting down, walking with a cane or shopping in my wheelchair.  I noticed that I had a sliver that turned into a freckle on my finger tip, Nurse Practitioner told me to make an appointment if it got bigger, then I noticed when I removed my nail polish that the same splinter like marks are under one of my nails.  So I looked it up on google.  Now before anyone *eye rolls*. Let me assure you that as a medical advocate, I know the difference between reliable and unreliable web resources, I also own medical textbooks with which I cross reference my Internet findings.  The markings are identical to splinter hemorrhagesas sign of severe cardiovascular disease, unless you have received trauma to that area recently, which I have not.  Now, had I not been experiencing extreme fatigue, tremors, weakness, shortness of breath, chest pain, among many other symptoms for over a year I simply would have shrugged it off, however taking into account that I have no diagnosis and we have not investigated my cardiovascular system as a possible culprit, I decided that it would be important to show these markings to my Nurse practitioner as quickly as possible.

This is what happened:  I didn't get her, I got a student. Who promptly told me my red rash was not a concern.  "What red rash?" I asked him.  I pointed to the "slivers" under my nail, which I had already told him was my concern.  "We look for infection, or strange growth, these are fine." he told me in a very patronizing way.  He gave me the same neuro exam I get every time, listens to me breath a briefly listens to my heart, asks about my chest pains. I explain them to him.  He takes my blood pressure and says it is good (this is important to note for later). Here's the deal, we are both bias.  I am bias in that I have been dealing with the medical system for 8 years as both patient and patient
advocate.  I have watched many a Dr and nurse overlook things out of being too busy, too
inexperienced, too arrogant or all three.  I have watched life threatening complications arise from these mistakes, the good nurses and doctors recognize explain and apologize for their oversights.  Some lack the ability to realize that there was
an oversight, or the strength of character to admit it.  This student has dealt with patients who no doubt have freaked themselves out by going to numerous healthboards and other unreliable sources of information, he wants to help people with real health problems not waste time on ones prediagnosed by Wikipedia.  I knew this by his patronizing manner.  I would not be an active participant in this medical appointment, he would push on me what he thought, he would report to my nurse Practioner how the slivers were fine as they did not look cancerous or infected.  So it went, the stress question, then the stress comment, the anxiety questions, I assure him, I know what anxiety is, I have had anxiety.  I'm not suffering from an anxiety disorder right now.  "But your symptoms can be caused by anxiety."  He insists "I want you to have a psych consult." He tells me.  Then he wants to up my fibromyalgia meds which are mild anti
depressants.  "No." I tell him. "I get really sick when you guys up or change my meds, cymbal ta is working on my pain right now with very little to no side effects.  I am not upping it."  Then he
assures me in a once again patronizing tone.  "There is always an adjustment period when starting new meds."  This is when I began to get angry. "I dropped 2 dress sizes in a week last time. I'm already sick, I'm not doing that again." "Your choice" he tells me shaking his head.  This student is talking down to me, ignoring my observations of my emotional/mental state and he doesn't even understand the use of basic body language and it's effect on communication between caregiver and patient.  He left to talk to the nurse and I started to cry, out of pure frustration.  I don't want to be sick I am sick of being sick.  I'm missing out on important things with my children. This is the first non-vague symptom I get, and I can't even tell him what I think it is or why because all it will do is reinforce his diagnosis of general anxiety disorder.  He came back with a questionaire for GeneralAnxiety Disorder,  which is like 9 questions.  Really?!? That's all it takes to diagnose GAD?  Plus the questionnaire leaves no room for disease symptoms, as if the only reason I could be possibly
be irritable would be anxiety, not the fact that my legs are sore and I am unexplainably exhausted, not hiding to stay in bed but actually diagnosed by my sleep specialist as truly fatigued.  Then he wants
to put me on a larazapan type anti anxiety med.  "It makes me lethargic." I told him. "I spend too much time in bed as is. I'm not taking those."
"But it will help with your anxiety."
*face palm*
Finally he asked me what I am worried about.  I explained that my symptoms are worse, that I need a wheelchair to grocery shop because I get so tired, dizzy and my knees give out.  I'm worried that there is something wrong with my heart, with the way my blood moves, I'm worried that I am sick and we are not looking at all the possibilities and I am missing out on time with my family.  I don't want to be sick.  I want to get better. Then we went back over how tired I am, Scott mentioned my iron was low, then the student said he would put together some blood work to look at that, he left, spoke with my nurse Practioner and had ordered an ECG, a mobile ECG for a few days a cbc, a test
for diabetes and a few others.  I agreed to the psych consult to prove once and for all I do not have an anxiety disorder, so that we can move on to my real diagnosis. An hour and a half, that is how long that took.

He was so sure that I had anxiety he overlooked the proof that I do not have it:  My blood pressure was normal. Let's take a look at this situation from the view of a caregiver who has read my notes.  History of sexual and physical abuse by men in positions of authority.  Trauma caused by male doctor cutting into genitals without pharmaceutical pain relief, a preference to female caregivers.  She arrives to see that instead of her nurse she has  a male she barely knows,  he is examining her,  touching her  and her  blood pressure is fine.  Her heart rate is fine.  Someone who is suffering from GAD with my background would have a rush of epinephrine in a situation like that, her bp and heart
rate would jump considerably, as cymbalta is not a beta blocker.  While I was putting on my boots my
nurse practitioner came out, part of me wanted to show her my finger nail and talk to her about it, but not her part of me thought; What's the point? Here's what I learned, if they are going to treat me like I'm  crazy anyways, I might as well just tell them what think it is right away rather than waste so
much time.