The Return of PTSD


Meet my new best friend for the next six weeks or so. A nice blue colored cast for a broken metacarpal bone and also for a klutz known as me! It took 8 days for PTSD to bite me right back in the butt. Delayed reaction? Sure. Yesterday, started the downward spiral. I woke up in complete misery: I had heartburn burning a nice hole right through my chest because I ate something acidic like pizza and downed a few of my cups of Joe. Then my right hand decided to join the “pain party” and cause some nice pain along with swelling. And if that wasn’t bad enough, my stomach was very upset all day and got one of the nastiest Charlie Horses in my leg. My right side is pretty sore. Sore muscles and bruises plague that side.

I don’t know how I got out of bed without throwing up or screaming in pure agony, but I did it. I had errands to run including doctor’s visits and getting my new cast. I had to drive a good 45 minutes along with traffic and road construction to see the orthopedic surgeon. I had to fill out paperwork with my less dominant hand and paid a nice expensive bill, too. I waited and I saw a few people getting rehab on their arms, legs and the rest of their bodies. The man across from me had surgery on his left wrist because of a break and I winced at him doing his rehab exercises. I will be doing the same exercises as him in the coming weeks.

The nice orthopedic surgeon asked how the accident occurred and took of my splint. I keep a sense of humor with me during dark times. She took it off and it was badly bruised and swollen. It looked like I had destroyed someone’s face or something. The guy across from me said: “Ouch! Who did you smack?” I said: “A man named concrete.”

She started examining my hand and I had to try to make a fist. She was doing all of these things so she can make a cast that works for me. She was so nice and put this giant heating pad over my hand. That was like heaven for 15 minutes. It reduced my swelling, pressure and pain a lot better than ice. I didn’t want her to take it off. She made my cast that’s removable for bathing only. You can clean it, but wear it at all times. So if I have an itch, I can scratch it. Yes.

After I was done being casted, she determined that I need several weeks or longer of physical therapy. This is my right hand and my writing hand. I can’t grasp anything without pain. It’s a long road. The cost of the visit, the cast, and rehab visits plus what insurance pays are ungodly. I’ll be stuck paying medical bills along with rent, car payments and various other bills. Freedom is not cheap at all.

Monday afternoon and evening, it hit me. I laid down to relax when I was confronted with PTSD and anxiety again. Bad depression, too. I was woken up by a rainstorm and I was saturated with sweat. My heart was racing. My stomach was churning. My head started spinning out of control. I had just gotten out of two bad funks of PTSD in the last 18 months: Hurricane Harvey and witnessing a crime. And now this. I felt like I was cursed again. Why? I asked myself. It’s life and things happen out of our control.

I didn’t expect nor asked for anything, it just happened. My stomach started taking a turn for the worse Monday night. I was watching sports because I love sports and I find it interesting. I can watch a game and give it my full attention. Nope said the depression and off I went to my bathroom. For many hours of that night, I stayed in there because depression and anxiety really messes up your stomach. All you heard was the explosion and the constant flush of the toilet. I tried laying down, but no. That didn’t help. I had to find something else to help me cope. I didn’t cry. I felt like it. But is was more constant sadness and darkness. I just wanted to be alone and not be bothered by anyone.

I would love to go back out and walk, but I can’t tie my shoes with one hand. Wearing Crocs isn’t the best shoes to wear. Nor will I go out and get shoes with no laces. My mind is filled with trauma from the accident, money struggles and waiting for six weeks to go by. Exercising was my outlet and my release. I can’t do that yet. I’m afraid of gaining more weight. I don’t have the energy to walk or do anything now except sleep, eat, and binge watch shows.

At work, I’m so miserable. Every staff member is supportive and helps me out when I need it. But I feel like I’m useless and too expensive to be there. I cannot not work because I need to support myself and pay my bills. I can take a leave, but that may or may not be covered. If it isn’t then, I won’t be taking off. I want to work. My boss cut my schedule in half to twenty hours instead of forty. That can’t work for me. Not getting paid for hours that I don’t work isn’t going to help me. I don’t want to ask for money nor want to go into debt, I’d rather work. Some customers at work are very nice and tip well. Others are impatient, rude and just don’t give a damn. One day, there was a lady snapping her fingers and demanding for her drink. Again, patience is a virtue. She wasn’t the only person waiting inside and through drive thru. She started throwing her tantrum like a four-year old. She said: “Where’s my drink. I’ve been waiting for so long. Where’s your manager?” Hello, I’m right here. I told her to calm down, be patient and your order is coming. She had the nerve to ask me to make it. I have a cast on. How is that possible? I really could’ve cared less about her. People should know that you are not the only customer and sometimes you will have to wait. You can scream and throw your fit like a child, but all you are doing is causing more stress and high blood pressure for me and my staff.

I experience a lot of abuse from customers on a daily basis. Everyday there’s always one or two people out of hundreds that like to be extra for no reason. The kind of words that customers say to me make others want to quit retail or go off on them. I’m used to it, but will not take rudeness lightly. If that wasn’t bad enough, I almost got killed in two separate accidents on separate days. Both times I had the green light and another fool decides to blow the red light then honk and look at me as if I was the stupid one. Sometimes it’s better to stay at home or stay with people you love. Even on my Facebook page, some have left not so nice messages about my blog. Remember, this my blog, I write about my own experiences, we all have freedom of speech and I will post things that I care about. I care about everyone’s well-being. If you look at the current events there’s a lot of chaos out there. Take the recent limo crash or Dr. Ford, I care about people. Events like these affect people and their mental health. Nowhere did I get political except to say that it’s wrong for people to accuse others of vicious acts if they happened or not. I still care. Don’t assume anything. I wasn’t trying to bring politics in the conversation. I really don’t care for politics or the news, but I can’t escape it. It’s online and on TV. So, if you think that I’m overstepping a boundary, I’m not. If you don’t like me or the blog then don’t follow. Negative comments hurt.




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