Trapped inside myself

Today has been one of those days that starts out pretty well.  Probably because I slept till noon.  With the exception of the 2 hours spend getting Anthony up and to school.  But the rest of the day has been pretty crappy.  No pun intended.  When I started taking my Lactulose for Hepatic Encephalopathy, my Dr. said he recommended 3 times a day but that if I felt I just needed it once, that would be OK too.  And it was OK.  Until now.

I wish I could put into words how horrible it is to be to trapped inside my body.  I know what I want to say, but nothing comes out.  Or I have to run through a list of words before my mouth finds the right one.  Trying to have a conversation with someone and having to constantly correct yourself.  I've began to just say nothing at all.  And the pain with someone jokes about it, its soul shattering.  I didn't ask for this.

My memory has been horrible.  I don't know what day it is with out looking at my phone.  I have to read and triple re read things.  I lose everything and then have anxiety attacks when I remember that I had something but I lost it.  I swear everything I touch I have managed to mess up.  Its turning me against myself.  I know it will pass, but getting though it gets harder and harder.  I've always been so hurt when someone would doubt me.  And now here I am doubting myself.

You know when you have had one to many drinks and you have to pee.  You tell yourself to stand up, put one foot in front of the other and walk to the bathroom.  The whole time you are telling yourself, just keep walking, your almost there, watch out for that table.  Then when you are sitting there peeing, you close your eyes and the sounds blur and the room starts spinning.  You wash your face, but it all feels like a dream.  That is how my whole afternoon was like.  I let it get the best of me today.  Raising my voice to the boys.  They are bouncing off the wall.  And driving each other nuts. But I was trying to make dinner.  Cutting an onion and trying not to overheat the pan.  I kept thinking I was doing something wrong so every other second I had to glance at the recipe.  Because God forbid I be able to remember anything for longer than a minuet.

Frustrated just doesn't cut it.  I'm exhausted from trying to stay ahead of myself all the time.  I'm angry that this is happening to me an that I have no control over it.  I hate that I'm having more foggy headed days than clear.  And it sucks that there is no change in my disease that will move me closer to the transplant that will fix it all.  I'm tired of be only just a little sick and waiting for my world to be ripped out from beneath me.

This is my life.  Good days and bad.  I know tomorrow might be better.  Or not.  But as long as I get a tomorrow that's what really matters right.  What a bummer of a post. Anthony just looked over my shoulder and said "Wow, that's a lot of writing, no wonder you are tired.  Sorry you have so much to write!"  I told him not to be sorry because writing it all out helps.  For a split second I considered deleting, but I will post.  Who knows maybe someone can relate?!  Maybe.

An hour later, I'm hitting publish...