A Particularly Difficult Time

It’s New Year’s Eve. Just another day really. Despite some really good things happening, it’s been a particularly tough year for me. Let’s start with the good.

Lucas is studying physics and math at college with plans to transfer to university after two years. He’s doing very well in his courses and living with his girlfriend and a new kitty in New Westminster. He loves the ‘very difficult to grasp’ theoretical aspects of physics and math, not the practical, applied part. He can talk your ear off about space-time or multi-world theory. He imagines continuing into graduate school but is open to the idea of becoming a teacher. 

 

Sabrina is working full time. She finds taking the year off to be particularly ‘ boring’ but likes being able to save money for school. It’s nice to have her around this year.  She applied to and got accepted by the University of Calgary - Education and just found out she was in the top 30 applicants for the entire university. They have invited her for a fully paid visit to the campus in late February – we are just awaiting the details. At this point she prefers the University of Calgary over University of Victoria. Hoping for some scholarships.

 

Jeff has been skiing plenty and enjoying a good early season with a lot of snow. He had a great year of biking and has no big injuries to report. He works hard on his fitness to allow him the capacity to ski and bike at the level he wants to. As superman, he somehow fits in time to maintain and repair the home. He’s painted the living area a brighter white and fixed all trim that was chewed up by anxious mutts. 

 

I graduated with my Masters of Rehabilitation Science at the first graduation ceremony at UBC since the start of the pandemic. It was a carefully distanced affair in a beautiful setting – the Chan Centre for Performing Arts. No I don’t know what I am going to do with it and yes I’d like to keep going with a PhD but with the kids going off to school, that dream will have to wait. Unless I can find a full scholarship. 

 

So now for the tough stuff I’ve been keeping inside the past 18 months or more. It’s difficult to talk about because of stigma. It might come across as oversharing. However, writing about my experiences has helped me so much in the past. And perhaps it will help one other person feel less alone in their struggles. 

 

Right at the onset of the pandemic I became hypomanic then manic. I was busy sewing 14 hours a day without breaks, had a zillion ideas in my head, my world felt expansive, and thought I was one of the smartest people in history. At first it was pleasant but it quickly devolved into a scary experience. I became agitated - I threw dishes against the wall and my internal monologue started screaming at me. The dogs were afraid of me. A trip to ER landed me on some heavy duty antipsychotics and a fast titration off my antidepressants. A few weeks later I fell into a deep depression. I tried to find a psychiatrist with no luck. Cancer agency didn’t want me and community had a long wait list. I did see someone privately thanks to friends who helped me a little while I was waiting for community access. I think I went 9 months without a psychiatrist and my GP did his best to help me manage. 

In the last year I have tried so many different medications, exercise, mindful meditation, cognitive and dialectical behaviour therapy, writing, counselling, volunteering, distraction, and time with friends. I joined a book club and returned to in person Zumba classes.  When you see me out and about, I appear and feel normal for a little while. However, within a day of being left alone again I fall into the darkness. Nothing I’ve tried has worked to permanently curb the sadness. I lost all of my interest in reading, sewing, knitting and even watching programs on TV. I tried to participate in programs on zoom but almost felt more isolated and lonely online. It was just awkward. I tend to escape to my bed and scroll through my phone and stare at the wall. I try to do one thing a day to keep moving forward but some days it’s like pulling teeth to shower and eat properly. I’m often just too tired of trying – it has been so long and so hard. 

 

Reasons I think I have treatment-refractory depression: 

 

1.    Biochemical. Apparently, I might be bipolar which is heavily biochemical. I’ve lived with depression for 30 years but always responded very well to meds with a few tune up counselling sessions.

 

2.    Existential crisis and not enough to do with my time. I am a metastatic breast cancer unicorn – still NED after 7 years on my first line of treatment. A miracle really, but knowing the disease is terminal for the majority is tough to live with. It’s difficult that I’m in treatment indefinitely and just have to live with side effects. I still have daily nausea that persists despite medication and alternative strategies. Most days I can’t get up and going until noon. However, I want to do something meaningful with my life. I no longer have a license as an OT. And there are no positions for someone who can only work some days for a few hours if symptoms are under control. I think volunteering is the only option at this time. The trick is to find something that gives me deep meaning. 

 

3.    The trauma of 2017.  First, my father died. Then by June, I was lying in bed 23 hours a day with my heart racing, getting dizzy, unable to walk, and unable to eat .  Before we figured it was autonomic failure from treatment, I really thought I was nearing the end of life. And once I realized I wasn’t, I felt so terrible that I wished it was ending. So many hopeless doctor appointments, some resulting in me feeling I was just crazy but with no strategies to improve. My oncologist saved me by discontinuing one of my treatments.  I ended up using a walker, wheelchair and eating from a blender for over a year. I finally just white knuckled and OT’d my way into sitting up more then standing then walking. It took 4 years to be able to walk the valley trail without walking aids for an hour. I think these years did a number on me. They exhausted me physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually until I had no gas in the tank. I lost several of my social connections over those years and when I ran into some people they would look stunned and some even said  “Oh you’re still here?” Others told me it was too difficult to see me so unwell. 

 

Looking Ahead

 

My psychiatrist says its time to think outside the box. I am crossing my fingers to have access to a new ketamine infusion program with her. It could improve my mood, give me the energy to  take action to feel better, and open up areas to work through in therapy. I was on the waitlist for ECT but the pandemic will have put that behind by months as they plan to close operating and recovery rooms in January. Once a plan is in place, I am planning to look into volunteering again, resuming group fitness and in person book and craft clubs once this darn pandemic settles.  In person activities make all the difference to me – its no wonder the pandemic has been so difficult. 

 

For all my friends and family – I wish you the best in 2022. I am simply hoping to find peace and comfort in my everyday life and to dabble in happiness again.