Depression and Anxiety

As a psych nurse I never thought in a million years I would use those two words to describe myself. The irony is, as an RN in that line of work we all joke that if you stay in the "psych" world too long you are bound to become a bit looney. That being said last year was brutal... not only physically but emotionally. Here I was enjoying life...just celebrated my 29th birthday, had recently attended The Landmark Forum and had finally, FINALLY gotten the job I had been applying for since I graduated nursing school.

Just finishing orientation I was about to walk into my first shift by myself and I had no feeling in my left leg and as I continued to walk and pretend that I would be able to get through my 12 hour shift my right leg progressively became numb with every step. I had complete foot drop in my left foot and if not for the wall next to me I would have greeted the floor face first. That night I spent my night in the ER, after an MRI and lets not forget the pain meds I was transfered from MY hospital... my new job.. to Banner Desert. What the heck... I mean, I am the nurse, I don't take rides in ambos...what had just happened? Despite my pleading I was indeed transferred, with sirens. OH Joy. Can you say embarrassing? If you haven't figured out yet, I was completely in denial. I had just purchased the truck of my dreams and was about to go camping with my family for the 4th of July. Amanda and I had even purchased our road trip gear and pink trucker hats. I wasn't going to spend the night in the hospital but I was wrong. I began to get settled, Amanda who had come to my rescue to be with me during this wild night had finally headed home for the night/morning. Minutes after she left I was informed after a second MRI, one taking over 1 1/2, that I was now ordered on bedrest and was not to eat or drink. This is when I began to my freak out and no dosage of ativan or valium was going to put me out. At shift change which was only about 2 hours later a very clueless yet friendly transporter walked in my room to tell me he was bring me to Pre-op. My response.... "ahhh hell no, I'm not having surgery!!" Lets be honest I had not even spoken to a doctor since I left the ER at Banner Baywood... and hello I was not about to be cut open. I began dialing as quickly as possible and couldn't get my mom to answer quick enough... "MOM they are trying to cut me open, come now!!" Then walked in this short dark haired man who introduced himself as my neurosurgeon. Who was he to decide that he was my doctor or that he was going to cut into me? He came off very blunt and as matter of fact which quickly shut me up. He asked the last time I had urinated and I honestly couldn't remember. He asked if I had any numbness or tingling in that area and I had...but didn't think anything of it considering my legs were NUMB!!! That when he helped me stand and asked me to lift my left foot and take a step... easy right. I had been walking since I was a wee little tyke. I could prove this arrogant doctor wrong. It didn't happen, I couldn't even lift my toes. I'm sure I freaked him out because thats when I had the "ahh haa" moment. I was going to have surgery on my back and my life were about to change. I quit fighting him and was on board with the procedure. It wasn't 15 min later I was wheeled back and next thing I know, I'm being woken up and wheeled back to my room. The rest is a blur...I was highly medicated!!! Which BTW was super embarrassing... apparently narcotic + Brandi = my mom having to endure some pretty hilarious conversation!!

 I had to stay over night in the hospital before I went to stay with my parents because I clearly could not take care of myself. Then began my new struggle of becoming the patient and not the care taker. I wasn't able to work, I would barely move. At about 4 weeks post op I started having pain in my left leg that would radiate to my ankle. I being the smart girl I am (insert sarcasm)... I googled it  and it was not looking good. All I kept reading was talk about failed laminectomy with the exact same symptoms I was having. I was scared and tried to will the pain away, thinking if I didn't tell anyone that it would go away. I mean I was still recovering and my leg/foot were getting stronger. Maybe it would go away. Yeah, no. I called my surgeons office and within hour I had seen him and been referred to a pain management doctor who had called me and scheduled me an appointment for the next day. I was sent for an MRI with and without contrast to rule out a hernia vs scar tissue or worst case senerio...BOTH. Yep the result sucked and I had both but as I was just going to be returning to work in a week, we were all on board that I would be careful and "baby" my back so we could prolong surgery as long as possible. That lasted all of like 5 weeks. The nerve pain from the scar tissue was excruciating. Nothing would relieve the pain in my calf or foot. I would go to work and put on a tough face and smile my way through only thinking "I have to make it out to my truck still and I feel like my leg is going to give out any minute." On my days off I would literally sleep, it hurt to do anything else. I was miserable and finally in aggreeance that my surgery would happen sooner rather then later. I began my pre op testing and notified my job I would need time off, AGAIN. It was at sonora quest that I realized I indeed had a problem, I could not pee. I thought I may have a shy bladder but they even let me take the cup home and in over 3 hours I had nothing. I made it till about 1pm the next day before I decided 24+ hours without peeing was not good and I would be on my way back to the ER. After being admitted and several obstacles that I will hopefully feel comfortable talking about at a later time I was back in the OR for a surgery that was not supposed to take longer then 2-3 hours and ended up taking my surgeon 5+ hours. The MRI had not shown how bad my scar tissue was or the extent of my two new herniation's. In the words of my surgeon, "It was a bitch" He informed me that my recovery would take longer and I would have greater limitations. I went about my way and at my 2 week appointment reality set in. My world came crashing down as I was told I needed to lower my truck, that I needed to change my nursing path, bedside nursing would not be in my future, crossfit was out and worst I wouldn't be able to carry babies.

Remember those words "Depression and Anxiety" well, allow me to introduce you...hello my name is Brandi. I was and still am devastated. I would wake up and put on that same fake yet convincing smile but I was lost. It sounds silly but I love my truck and it isn't "just" a truck to me. I worked my ass off, fought through nursing school and finally proved to myself that I am not a quitter. I did become a nurse, I am independent and now I got my truck!!! My dad wanted me to sell it, wanted me to get something else. It was practical but after all I had been through I couldn't even fathom selling it. She was my Black Beauty and was going no where. I was blessed to be able to drive my moms tahoe but missed my ride until I come up with a solution and said funds for that solution. Not being paid for my leave was quickly setting in. Luckily I had savings but not being paid for a total of 17 weeks last year was stressing me out. I felt completely worthless. I had worked since I was 15 and actually enjoy my job. I've said it a million times but I was meant to be a nurse. I like my job and despite how difficult or crappy it can be I know I am making a difference. How do they expect me to change my plans for life and become a desk nurse. That isn't me... I need interaction and patient care...

I also needed crossfit, I was so excited that once I was healed I was going to be pain free and had every hope of returning to my home at CFM. It has been so long since I had been able to consistently been able to work out because of my back. I'm not stupid or naive, I knew I would never be the same and that I would have to continue to modify of course but I just longed to belong again.

Babies... Are you kidding me?!? I love being an aunt and can't wait to me a momma. Still to this day have a hard time talking about this...

So yes, through all the physical pain, worse is what I'm facing in the now. This is as honest as I have ever been with the world... to anyone reading. The week of Thanksgiving was dark for me. I can't even begin to explain what I felt. I had never in my life felt so low. Driving home one night I realized, I didn't care if I lived anymore. I can honestly say I wasn't about to go hurting myself but I did not feel safe. I felt disconnected from my brain, I was broken. I have the most amazing family and support but it wasn't enough. I felt weak and like I was disappointing everyone around me and I had no idea how to fix it. I knew Brandi was still inside but I didn't know how to shake it. I spent many a nights at my parents house, side by side with my mom. I cried on her shoulder as I couldn't sleep, my heart would pound out of my chest and I would go into full blown panic attacks. I did my best to continue on with life and pretend it was great. Pretend I was grateful for this trial when in fact I felt like it was given to the wrong person.

Today I still battle anxiety/depression. I wake up with my heart pounding out of my chest and it comes out of no where. The word "goal" freaks me out because it pushes me and I'm so afraid of messing up my back and ending up paralyzed. I'm not a candidate for a fushion nor would I want one. There is no plan B or C... I have to lose weight which ps is next to impossible when you are living off medications to decrease inflammation which coincidentally not only cause you to want to eat the kitchen sink but also cause weight gain. That isn't an excuse and I know I could have been eating better but when you are down right depressed and barely getting by a cookie or ice cream seems to make everything better. I didn't waste my time typing this for sympathy. That is NOT why I was given this trial. I wake up every morning/evening (I work nights) and as it takes a good 20 minutes of stretching and trying to get up before I can stand straight I think...why? Why me? Why this? Why now? Those answers have still yet to be answered but I am doing my best to be grateful for this struggle as I feel it will make me a better person. I will be a better daughter, sister, friend, and nurse. I have a greater understanding of life. Those words are more then words... depression and anxiety suck. They sneak up on you without warning but I will not let them define me. Today is a good day, I don't know about tomorrow but I do know that I do have support and don't have to go at it alone and that is what I am grateful for.