Monday I had my appointment with the new psychiatrist. It went much better than I could have ever expected. She was very personable and easy to talk to. I didn't have any anxiety answering her questions or offering extra information I thought she should know. That is night and day to my last experience with a psychiatrist. She is lowering the dosage of my current anti-anxiety/depression medication and added a mood stabilizer to help keep me from crashing as often. I'll go back to see her in a few weeks to make sure that things are going well with current doses before I head back to work. Tuesday was the day of my procedure, and while it was much easier than the surgery in April, it still took its toll on my body. I felt like the walking dead most of Tuesday and Wednesday. Having found out about my grandma late Tuesday, I tossed and turned most of the night, not getting much sleep even though I was exhausted. Same goes for last night. I couldn't turn my brain off. I kept thinking about how in just 3 weeks we've gone from hopeful to about 6 months to live. That 6 months from now will be right around Christmas. That more than likely my holidays won't include her anymore. That my mom is going to be so devastated by her death. That the realization of that makes me feel so helpless. That I want to spend time with my grandma before I go back to work in a few weeks, but I'm afraid to. That I want to hug her and tell her how scared I am and that I don't want her to die, but knowing that would only burden her more. That today my baby cousin would have turned 15, but will forever stay 13 in the eternity of heaven.
A just let me talk and cry today. Somehow I don't think that will be the last time that will happen.
Happy birthday, little butterfly.