TheBanyanTree: Fugue

[dseaman77 at gmail.com]

I think I did what my therapist always warns me about and mistook feeling sick for depression. I missed my last session with her because my brain has been like a skillet of scrambled eggs, and even with the appointment card in my wallet for easy access, I managed to completely forget the appointment. I only see her every three weeks. So now it will be over a month before our next session. She teaches me how to cope and use techniques to combat depression and anxiety. And even though I am a big boy who should be able to remember this stuff, I still need her to encourage me. To talk me down from time to time.

You see, I'm dying. Without my therapist to talk me down I will continue dying. I had an illness that took up residence in my chest and doesn't realize that it has become an unwanted guest. During this visit I am dealing with chronic fatigue, sinus infection, and a bad cough. Also I run out of breath quick. I have COPD and this illness is exasperating the condition, which in turn triggers the depression. So I feel like I am dying, which leads me to believe that I am dying. 

I sent her an email and told her I was dying. She kind of blew it off and listed what my priorities should be. Dear Julie, I'm dying slowly and I don't care. Dave, exercise and take your meds. I'm ruminating and she knows it. Still doesn't take away from the fact that I feel depressed and don't care about much. But I am so annoyed with the fatigue. I've spent far too much time in bed. I've taken up walking in the warm spring days. The exercise makes my back feel better, but nothing seems to snap me out of my fugue. 


Dave Seaman