Tuesday, November 25, 2014

It's All Becoming Too Much For Him

Seriously, I don't know how some of you do it. I am well aware that there are worse places in Thomas's illness that he could be. I see what you guys deal with, what you fight for, the grief you feel and the loss you endure. I see it all and I pray for you every day. I have to say though that I am waging a battle of my own with this illness and Thomas right now and I guess maybe I just don't have the strength that a lot of you have to accept and deal with this illness.

Yesterday Thomas worked. I totally forgot about it and went downstairs to work out for an hour and a half. Near the end of my workout Thomas came downstairs and just stood there watching me. He didn't look well at all. I took off my earbuds and asked him if he was okay and he said that he had to work and was I coming up to make dinner for him. I could have kicked myself for totally blanking on the fact that he worked. I told him I'd be right up and he turned slowly and walked up the stairs.

Once I got upstairs I found Thomas standing in the kitchen white as a sheet. He didn't look well at all. I asked him if he felt okay and he said he felt "a little nauseous" and I figured it was anxiety that was getting him though he reported it was a 3 out of 10. I quickly got his dinner together and he went and sat down in front of the TV. I joined him not long after. Our living room is a long narrow one. I sit at one end of it and the TV is at the other end and Thomas sits to one side and closer to the TV. As he ate his dinner I watched him every now and then and he just wasn't right. He was eating his dinner with no problems so I figured the nausea wasn't bad enough to stop him from eating. I sat there, though, and watched him and hated seeing him looking so beaten down.

When we got in the car to go to work I asked him how he was and he said, "fine, I guess" and I delivered him safely to work. I had a bad feeling about it but I let him go because he seemed willing to go into the store. I came home and put on my fuzzy, comfy lounge clothes and sat down to watch TV. Within 45 minutes my phone rang and it was him. My heart was heavy as I answered the call knowing full well what he was about to ask me. He wanted to come home because he felt sick. I told him I'd be right there and I got my keys and got in the car.

As I drove up to the store I could see him standing in there anxiously looking for my car and when he spotted me he lumbered out to the car and got in. I turned down the radio and looked at him as he rested his head on the headrest and looked BEATEN DOWN. I put my hand on his leg and he grabbed my hand and held it tightly and I asked him what had happened and how he was feeling. He said that he felt sick but that he was starting to feel dizzy too and as I listened to him talk it sounded like his tongue was swollen and he could barely get words out without sounding weird. I asked him to help me out and really think about what had happened leading up to him calling me. I wanted to jump on top of the symptoms before everything disappeared from his memory.

How paranoid was he? (A 2)
Had he been anxious before this started? (Yes)
What was his anxiety about? (Being to work on time)
But kiddo, you were already at work. You had gotten there on time, why were you still anxious about it? (I don't know)
Did you have any unusual thoughts beforehand about shoplifters or people in the store? (No)

So then what was it? Clearly he looked like he'd been through hell. He was white as a sheet, dizzy, and slurring his words. Then I thought, "could it be the clozaril and its well known agranulocytosis? As we drove the rest of the way home I began to panic myself thinking he could be getting seriously ill from his meds. I didn't know.

When we got home I took his blood pressure which I always do when he says he's dizzy and it was fine. I kneeled down beside him and held his head against me and rubbed his head and told him I loved him. I let him go so I could look at his face and he looked at me with this kind of blank look. Then suddenly he seemed to click in and focus and suddenly it felt like he was staring into my soul, his looking at me was so intense. It was almost as if he was begging me for something and I couldn't figure out what. I realized he was TERRIFIED of something and I asked him,

"Are you scared right now? Are you worried about how you're feeling?"

He said yes and I told him to just sit there with me and I'd keep an eye on him and if he got worse I would take him to the hospital. He said okay and reached for my hand and I kneeled beside him and held it. I wanted to cry. I wanted to unleash all of everything I have been feeling for the past couple of weeks. I wanted him to be okay and I wanted this illness to go away.

As the evening wore on he slowly got better and by bedtime he was fine, I guess. Still looking beaten down but sounding better, I said goodnight, told him to come get me in the middle of the night if he needed me and I went to bed.

It's here again. The mysterious nausea, the anxiety, the calls from work to come home early, it's all back just EXACTLY like last year at the beginning of his serious downward spiral. What happened last night was a big indicator that his illness has taken a serious turn for the worse. Being unable to stay at work after months of working like a pro shows me that he's in a very bad place. I don't know what to do.

I am lost.

This morning I am beaten down myself and breathing shallow and worried like crazy.

Here's the thing though. He worked last Friday, Saturday, Sunday, came home early yesterday and now he works Thursday (Thanksgiving) from 6-10pm for the big sale then again on Friday from 5-10 (on Black Friday--the busiest time of the year) and then again on Saturday. I just don't know how he's going to do it. I don't think he has a chance at making it through Thursday or Friday. I think it's all becoming too much for him.

I find myself at the point of going in to the store to once again speak with the manager about Thomas's hours and explain yet again about his illness and what needs to happen for him to be a productive worker. It's been almost a year since I was in there having a talk with them and I really hate to interfere but I hate, even more, that my boy is suffering.

So, it's here, it's back, the mysterious need to leave work with no discernable reason for why he feels the way he does but he needs to come home NOW. It's time to stop my denial about what's happening with him and it's time to take action. I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to do but something has to be done.

I. Just. Can't. Lose. Him. Again.

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