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Rated: 18+ · Documentary · Health · #1413448
Story about my Diagnosis of BPD, for contest for BSFU
This story is written for BSFU contest. This will be a hard one.
When Diagnosis came in my reactions:


*Note1* My Story of Diagnosis of BPD *Note1*

My First reactions:
I had been going through a lot of things in my personal life, and to me
this was a regular Doctor's visit to get refills on my already exsisting medications I was taking. Little did I know that is was going to turn out to be something else.
I'm at my appointment and in the examining room awaiting the Doctor to come in, all
emotional because of some things going on in my life at the time that had me agitated.
My nerves are already on edge because of being upset, the Doctor walks in and notices
my nervousness right away. He asked me," How are you doing today?" simple enough
question right? Wrong! For some ungodly reason at that moment I broke down and started
crying. It wasn't like me to cry in front of people but, I didn't seem to have control of this
happening, and worse yet, couldn't stop crying uncontrollably. He (the doctor) let me
come to a stopping point in my crying before he spoke and, that is when he told me of
news I refused to believe. This was in 2005 I think, I really don't remember if it was earlier
or later to tell the truth because I refused to believe what I was hearing or what he had told
me.

The Doctor told me because of past events that had happened in my life and because of recent events that had brought this to light, it was in his opinion that I suffered from BPD.
I was shocked to say the least, it was as if he were talking about someone else Not ME.
And what the hell was he talking about that I had yet another desease (not cureable), that
I had to deal with the rest of my life.... like I didn't have enough wrong with me already!
This was just unacceptable to me! No way did I have Bipolar disorder!!! NO! I refuse to
believe it! ( in my mind I'm saying to myself) I'll let him say what he has to say, that doesn't mean he is right or that I have to accept what he is saying which I DO NOT !!!!
I'm in a fog in my mind when he snaps me back to reality by saying those magic dreadful
words that I hate to hear... " There is this medication that I want you to take...." Oh NO!
Not more medication! I take a handfull now for other things, what the hell?!

I left the Doctor's office in a fog in my mind... by the time I reached home I had put it out of my mind completely, that is just how I have dealt with anything bad in my life. I refused to believe it so therefore it didn't exsist, simple as that. I looked at the medication as an extension of my other medications so, out of habbit I had it filled and took
it for a short time. It didn't take long for me to realize that this medicine made me feel like
crap! So I quit taking it and soon forgot all about it until a year later something major
happened and I was faced with this problem once again. My Mother was admitted into the hospital at the young age of seven-seven for surgery to have a large tumor removed. This surgery was just a start of a downward fall in my emotional state of mind. It spiraled out of control
this time and I couldn't seem to get myself out of this depression and crying jag I was on.

Once again, at the doctor's office I was told I needed to be on stronger medication that if I didn't I would either have a nervous break down or worse, heart attack.
Once again I didn't accept this diagnosis but, this time I went to a different Doctor.
I thought that this doctor was a nut case! So I searched the yellow pages for another family doctor that would take me on as a patient. I found one to my relief and he was very good and had 35 years experience in his practise. I thought Yea for me! Wrong once again!
This new doctor told me I had severe BPD and I needed to go on this medication that I was
in danger of having a heart attack. Nope! not acceptable. I just didn't have time right now to be bothered with this diagnosis. We had just been told that my Mother was dying and we would have to get her affairs in order, it was just a matter of time. My brother and I had told my Mother that she would never see the inside of a Nursing Home. So she was sent Home to her place to be her last place to be here on this earth. My brother and I kept our promise.
We divided between us the taking care of my Mother with the help of Hospic. He opted for
four days and three nights and, I took the four nights and three days. Between us we took
care of our Mother until the day she died which was last year June 29th, 2007. That day was my complete downfall of out of control emotional spiral end. I had a major stroke!
My left side was completely gone. What's worse is I'm left-handed. Very, very bad time that was going to get worse... You see, I had once again put it out of my mind about the BPD diagonosis because of having my hands full helping take care of my Mother and having to watch her die slowly over a peroid of a year right before my eyes..

Still not accepting the diagnosis, after the stroke, I went into physcal
theraphy. Four months later still in a major depression I have a heart attack. I was admitted into the hospital. Still not accepting the diagnosis. Near the first of the year of 2008 I had another heart attack. This one put me down for awhile but, after I get over this heart attack, still stuborn, not accepting the diagnosis, I went on with my theraphy. It took eleven months of seven days a week of theraphy but, I got my left side back, something my doctor and two specialist had told me that would never happen. Still not accepting the diagnosis of
BPD, starting to bottom out with major depression, I start praying that my life will end soon,
starting to think stupid now about, " hey, I've got all this strong medication and, I think I wouldn't have to take the whole bottle of every one of them for my life to end..." I just don't want to live anymore... I didn't take enough, I'm still here, DAMNIT!

Getting over my stomach being pumped, recovering I start to write again, I find my long lost friend of writing that I had put on the back burner for so long.
I get a call from my daughter telling me that she wants to come back into my life and would
I like to see my grandchildren? She convinces me of finding a web site for writers after seeing some of my writing. So I search and search until I come upon this site.
I sign up to become a free member and, submitt my writings, just a few poems... and
within the first two days to my surprise a really beautiful person from BSFU group came to
visit my port and read my poems, gave me helpful advice, was very nice about the reviews,
and asked me if I wanted to be a member but I needed to write a testimonal. So I did and,
I went to read the BSFU member page and I read about BPD. THAT is when I accepted that
I had BPD. I read the symptoms and that day and saw, I remembered what the doctors said later and realized that they were right, I was wrong and, ' thank you Stacy Lynn ! '
She is the one whom helped me come to terms with the fact that I was Bipolar, she knew by reading my poems that I was bipolar and by my emails of the comments I made. But
she never told me I was even though she knew... she let me accept it slowly until one day I e-mailed her and told her I remebered the doctors telling me I had BPD but didn't have time to deal with it at the time. I thanked her for her loving support and kindness and for helping me in everything that she had done for me. Stacy Lynn doesn't know that she is the reason
that I'm getting better because she helped me to accept it. Because of Stacy I have read up on BPD and learned a lot and, now I can help educate others and have. I thank GOD
everyday for WDC and Bipolar Special Forces Unit. You literally saved my life. Stacy Lynn
took the time to educate me, and I could never repay her for what she has done for me. All
I can do is try to be the best friend to her as possible, respect and show her the love and graditude I feel. Thank You Stacy Lynn! *Heart*

By: Cissy C.R.W.
4/13/08

word count: 1,577
© Copyright 2008 Goul of WDC (cissyccr at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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