Sunday, May 4, 2008

Breather

Since my last blog I've been on an emotional roller coaster, dealing with very intense experiences of depression and, more recently, anxiety, and trying to find professional resources to help me with these. My insurance plan has virtually no coverage for mental health: 12 sessions per year at $30/session, as long as it's with an M.D. in a hospital setting. I located a talk therapist with the Chicago Center for Family Health, a man who specializes in chronic illness and has had a lot of experience with cancer patients. I can see him for $60/session, which seems steep, since I'm living on savings, but in reality is quite reasonable these days. The earliest I can see him is May 15, which, when I'm in the tunnel, seems like an eternity, but today, when I'm not in the tunnel, seems do-able.

I have an appointment with my primary care doctor Tuesday to talk about medication for this biochemical nightmare. Working with my internist is a stopgap measure until I can locate a psycho-pharmacologist with an institution that charges on a sliding scale fee basis, but I really think there is as large biochemical component to what I have been experiencing. I can feel the anxiety and depression coming on in my innards; it's gut wrenching and agonizing.

My oncologist's physician assistant tells me it's very normal for people to sink into depression following treatment. All my resources were marshalled to get through treatment, and it was a very active time: radiation 5 days a week for six weeks, chemotherapy every three weeks, and then just trying to get through the aftermath of chemotherapy. But now there's nothing to do but watch and wait, and plenty of time for the demons to arise. Two cancer survivor friends of mine have pointed out to me that cancer changes one; Thursday morning I awoke in a cold sweat, face to face with fear of death. It's quite debilitating: every cell in your body contracts, your bowels twist, your heart pounds, and the aftermath stays with you for hours. There's a heaviness, lack of interest in anything that usually engages you, slight nausea.

I have been trying to be very gentle with myself, and to make sure that I'm getting some exercise every day, and to eat right and spend lots of time with friends and loved ones. Structuring my time seems to be key. So, friends and loved ones, call me, and let's put something on the calendar.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Lunch....or tea at the Ritz? You name it.

You will make it through this depression.

Stephanie

Anonymous said...

Valjean,
Whether we talk or not you are in my thoughts and prayers. It was great to see you in the audience at the play. Thank you again for coming to the performance of Angel Street. You are looking good.
Patricia Casey

Anonymous said...

dear valjean!

i find you, but not in the way that i had hoped! although from what i can tell from scanning your blog, the physical report is good, while the mentoemo not so at the moment?... i am wishing you gentle winds of lovingkindness in your life/state and will hope that maybe we can catch up soon. i WILL be in chicago performing on the 30th and doing a workshop on the 31st, so perhaps our paths will cross?..

with love and care, lynn book
bookl@wfu.edu