A few times, I was lying in my bed almost deathly ill.
I had a fever of 104 and I couldn't move, but I didn't want to ask for help, because I felt pathetic. My boyfriend has always been so good to me, but he refuses to lean on me, so I was afraid to lean on him..for fear he might think I'm weak. So I just lay there alone, and stayed sick. Eventually, I was able to force myself out of bed and go to work, although I was still so very sick. He was upset that I was going to work so sick, but I felt I had to. As it turned out, I had such a high fever that I was becoming delirious, and found that I was supposed to be at school rather than work. I got in trouble for it, but I eventually made them understand what kind of shape I was in at the time.

Welcome Tara....

I don't ask for help because I never know what to say. I also am too proud, I have to do it myself! Stupid. I don't want to appear weak - you're right.

I do have to address this. Not why, but how do I reframe it and change my behaviors. It's like I don't want to express what is hurting me because it makes it reality. I also hurt more sharing and it lasts longer.

Oh, no, time to work again.

Anthony, you are absolutely right it is our responsibility to the few people we have in our life we care for. Or rather only one, my adult daughter.

I am rarely able to ask for help. There have been many times when I wished I could or when I should have that I have simply not been able to get the words out of my mouth.

My role in the family was that of the strong one. I was the one everybody leaned on, even as a kid. My feelings, wounds and hurts held little importance to everyone else's and I learned early to put them on the back burner.

My firm answer is no. When there is no choice and I am afraid something might actually be broken, I'll go to the ER, by driving myself.

Once, a few years ago, I did something in the barn and thought I had broken my ankle. With any kind of "ouch" my rule is to elevate it where possible, assess the amount of pain it feels on the 1-10 scale. Count slowly to 20, then to 50, then to 75 and finally 100 and assess it again at each interval. If at 20 or 50 there is no change, I'll take a tylenol or something similar before continuing the count. At 100, the pain was still 11.

My car was a pickup truck with manual transmission. There was no way I could shift, much less drive myself to the hospital. An ambulance was out of the question. 911 is not in my vocabulary - what if someone else in the area needed an ambulance while they were transporting me? I couldn't live with myself.

The next farm over was a cattle rancher and always home, as was his wife. I didn't really know them very well. We'd wave when we saw each other out but that was about it. I recall debating for over an hour (after the count) about calling them to ask if they would take me to the hospital. I think it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

When I did finally call and explained what I had done, they dropped the phone. Oh gosh, I knew I shouldn't have called. What other options were there? I was in a poor dirt-farmer community 10 miles from the nearest city. Who could I call? I tried to call the cattle rancher again to apologize and there was no answer. Then there was a knock at the door, immediately follwed by a man's voice, "Can you get to the door or do you need help? I got help here..." The cattle rancher, his wife and adult son dropped whatever they had been doing, got into their truck and came over to take me to the hospital.

It wasn't broken.

assess the amount of pain it feels on the 1-10 scale. Count slowly to 20, then to 50, then to 75 and finally 100 and assess it again at each interval. If at 20 or 50 there is no change, I'll take a tylenol or something similar before continuing the count. At 100, the pain was still 11.

An ambulance was out of the question. 911 is not in my vocabulary - what if someone else in the area needed an ambulance while they were transporting me? I couldn't live with myself.

I think it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.


This is so funny (not really) but I can totally relate. I have also driven myself to the docter's with my stick shift and a cut on my shifting hand where I could only stop the bleeding with direct pressure. OK - two handed shifting OOP's back to the steering wheel. HA, got there some how.

Why are we this way? We aren't entitled to the same services as anyone else? Bullsh##. But, It is what it is ... until we decide to process it and change. I'm still not ready to do that either, yet. Someday I'll get to the bottom of my list where this little ditty exists.

My question is this: Is it so rare? Is it part of PTSD? Is it pride? Is it the inability to admit we need help? Is it something else?

It's nice to know I'm not alone.

But it's not just illness or injury. When one of the hurricanes was bearing down on us with my farm right in the projected path (as was the whole state), I needed to put my truck in the middle of the pasture. Of course, that was when I was nursing a torn rotor cuff in my right shoulder and my right arm was nearly useless. Yup, same standard shift truck needed to be put out to pasture before the hurricane came. I could have asked the cattle rancher or his wife or his son....

I got it out there but sure hope nobody was watching. You can't fake when a full size pickup stalls out on you. It's blatantly obvious. Again and again and again.

Last week I became very ill at work and was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. I live alone (suprise, suprise) and she insisted on calling my daughter (not real close, and definite trust issues) I told her she could. I felt I should open the door once more and give it a try again, to let her in. I anticipated her arrival at the ER as I recieved my second shot of morphine in the IV. She never arrived. No one came, except a stranger I started working with two weeks ago. What an eye opener. I did get home that night very late after a taxi ride to my car and a 30 mile drive with residual morphine in a hospital gown.

The next morning I was roused with a phone call from my daughter - She was blasting me because I didn't return her calls from the hospital. OK, no cell phones, no messages from her, and I was in extreme pain with morphine. Hmmm? Because I did not respond to her remarks with other than a, oh, she then went off on me again about having an attitude with her. OK ... I simply ended the conversation and returned to sleep. Do you think she may have been a little defensive?

Next installment, all the you should haves, I couldn't because, next time you better .... "talk to you later kate." Next, We need to talk about this before it wrecks our dinner with my boyfriend tomorrow. Again, meeting her needs her schedule.

OK, Doors closed and locked again. Ask for help? Why - it only gave me grief and pain. Atleast if I don't ask I will have no expectations and know I am dealing with it solo.