I Was Lied To

I went into the doctor’s office with Barry angry because the insurance company told me that the doctor’s office hadn’t returned the forms sent in that the insurers had sent them. I was pissed at the wrong people.

The physician’s assistant  gave me a timeline of when they had received the forms and the progress filling them out. I shouldn’t be surprised. She told me that they lie to her all the time, saying they sent forms when they haven’t.

So there was that appointment, which drove Barry crazy, where the physician’s assistant did a mini neuro-psych eval on Barry. Later, we went to the lawyer’s office to redo the POA. Barry’s mood was bad and he was begging to leave like he did at the doctor appointment.

By the time we got home, I was anxious to be anywhere that Barry wasn’t. So I went to Panera and had soup and a salad. I feel bad for Barry, but yesterday was super-happy-fun-time compared to the upcoming attractions of Huntington’s. I am seriously hoping that the new increased stress level kills him before he has to go into a nursing home. If he thought the little doctor’s appointment was bad, he is going to really have a horrible time when I take him to the full-blown neuro-psych eval that still has to be done.

Things are not going to get better. Part of the problem is that I have spent the past eight or nine years doing everything in my power to make him comfortable. It has worked for the most part, but it cannot continue for two reasons: 1. The Huntington’s is too far advanced for me to really make him comfortable anymore and 2. I have to start my life up again. I have put everything on hold for him indefinitely and I am reclaiming my life.

But I don’t want to take out my feelings on the wrong people. The problem is that I have zero emotional reserves and so sometimes it is impossible for me not to over-react to problems. Last week, I actually wondered, if I slit my wrists, how long it would take to bleed out and if I could do it without screaming so I wouldn’t wake Barry up.  I went over the edge a long time ago and sometimes I hear myself splat on the ground. It is not pretty.