Yesterday they caught me. I had used cover and concealment, tried a little camouflage, and ran as fast as I could, but the nurse caught me. I think not seeing me for more than a year is thin enough reason for another blood draw, but it is part of the annual physical. I speak metaphorically of course. Once caught on the magical VA computer, I am obedient to come in for my annual physical or other checkups that the medical folks like to do. That does not mean, unfortunately, that the terror leaves me alone.
My guts churned and shook. I felt a strong urge to run home and call the whole thing off. I prayed, sang songs, and did physical motions to distract myself, but the appointment still arrived at the appointed time. The dratted things tend to do that it seems. Of course, and this is the good news side of PTSD, the actual blood draw was and seldom is as bad as the anxiety that whoops on me beforehand. The remainder of the physical examination amounted to a life sentence, as in "You're gonna live." Then came the question: Have you ever had thoughts of suicide?"
Has anyone suffered chronic depression, anxiety, or PTSD, and not heard the occasional whisper of a thought go by regarding that option? I suspect it would be dishonest for me to say that I had never thought of what may appear to be an easy way out of my problems. What is barely controllable or uncontrollable in mental illness, may at times compare favorably to the perceived control of a suicide. If a person does not think that anything comes after this life, then the answer may seem obvious, selfish though the act may be to those left behind. For me, I believe that God has much in store for me in this life, much more in Heaven, and I do not for a moment want to report in to my Lord having just ended the life He has given to me. Besides, I have found that I love persons. Just now and then, I have trouble with groups of people, or places where I think there may be too many people, or even totally imaginary situations that never occur. God gave me a great imagination, but why do I seem to beat myself up with it so often?
The VA checkup was in a small clinic. No mobs of people to fear, and the two primary providers were a nurse and nurse practitioner I met last year. I also got signed up for some more psychotherapy sessions. I know they don't call them that to us, but what the heck. Therapy for psychos, I can understand why they would think I need it. They snuck in an extra needle too, and that one kind of smarts a bit today. Hopefully, they did a good job neutralizing the bugs and I won't come down with the very thing they are trying to prevent. Every year I think someone tells me that the flu vaccinations are some government plot to give people the flu. In a way they are correct, but not in the way they are obviously trying to get my anxious imagination to believe. This extra needle was for pneumonia, I still have the anti-influenza needle to face later this year, but let's leave my imagination out of it this year, you fear mongers you!
Have a wonderful day and may your PTSD be under control,
Bucky
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