Saturday, November 17, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
Yes, totally amazing: now give me my meds and shut the hell up.
What did I say I was going to talk about tonight?
How about strep throat? Was that it? No: I didn't think so, and yet, there it is.
I spent the whole week hoping that my throat was just raw because the music was So. Loud. at the wedding on Sunday (I am the old person you all hate - Why does the music have to be that LOUD???) so to talk to anybody, you were basically yelling. All night long. I just figured I'd strained my voice a little.
And that probably was some of it, but then when I went in for my shots on Wednesday and some man in the doctor's office coughed directly on me. Like, right on my face. And didn't even give me the courtesy of an "oops," let alone an "I'm sorry, I just gave you the plague, would you like a Kleenex?"
So when my throat was about a million times worse this morning, I gave in and called my primary care, who was, you guessed it! Out of the office for the day, but her on-call covering doc could see me at three, would that be okay? Sure. Whatever. Fine.
They called three times between 10:00 this morning and noon to rearrange the appointment times, and I was ready to be like "Never mind: miraculously healed! Just stop calling and making me TALK - did I mention my throat hurts?!", but then they did stop calling, so I decided to suck it up and go.
Now, the only new symptom has been my throat - nothing else, no coughing or wheezing or sneezing or anything, so I just assumed the covering doc would look at the red rawness, stick one of those sticks down my throat, and write me a prescription for the strep throat antibiotic I obviously need.
Isn't it hilarious how I'm still optimistic (and stupid) after all these years of dealing with doctors?
No it was: Let's talk about why you're in the wheelchair (because it might somehow be relevant?), and What do you mean it hurts when I press on your neck and lymph nodes (they hurt all by themselves, lady: don't touch!) and Are you sure you had bronchitis a few weeks ago? (Well, maybe I had a brontosaurus a few weeks ago, but I'm pretty sure it was bronchitis.) Literally, let's just retake your whole history, for a strep test. And then? Still not give you any antibiotics.
No, after hearing that I'd had bronchitis a couple of weeks ago, and three or four sinus infections this year, the on-call doc decided that I might just have another sinus infection, and gave me Flonase. Which... doesn't treat sinus infections. (Or, at the very least, doesn't treat MY sinus infections.) Told me to gargle with salt water (which I've been doing, and I hate, and blech). Or it could be allergies, although allergy season is mostly over....and I'm on no less than three allergy meds. Whatever. Definitely helpful, thanks!
And then she preceded to talk for fifteen minutes about how interesting POTS is and how she's never seen anybody with that, and isn't it amazing how many ways the body has to adapt to things?
Um... no?
My body is MALadaptive, lady. It is adapting poorly, not "amazingly." And I don't care if you see patients like me every single day, or once every 3000 years, could you just stop chattering on and on and actually treat what I'm here for, so I can go home and be sick in my own damn bed?
It was frustrating, to say the least, and the thing that makes it worse is that if I had called yesterday, instead of waiting to see if it'd go away (like a dope), I could've called Zack's office, and the nurse there would've just sent my antibiotic rx right through... I kind of having a standing order. But they're out of the office today, so I figured the primary care was my next best shot.
Turns out my next best shot would've been attending medical school myself, so I could write out the damn prescription and stick my own little swab down my throat. Next time.
How about strep throat? Was that it? No: I didn't think so, and yet, there it is.
I spent the whole week hoping that my throat was just raw because the music was So. Loud. at the wedding on Sunday (I am the old person you all hate - Why does the music have to be that LOUD???) so to talk to anybody, you were basically yelling. All night long. I just figured I'd strained my voice a little.
And that probably was some of it, but then when I went in for my shots on Wednesday and some man in the doctor's office coughed directly on me. Like, right on my face. And didn't even give me the courtesy of an "oops," let alone an "I'm sorry, I just gave you the plague, would you like a Kleenex?"
So when my throat was about a million times worse this morning, I gave in and called my primary care, who was, you guessed it! Out of the office for the day, but her on-call covering doc could see me at three, would that be okay? Sure. Whatever. Fine.
They called three times between 10:00 this morning and noon to rearrange the appointment times, and I was ready to be like "Never mind: miraculously healed! Just stop calling and making me TALK - did I mention my throat hurts?!", but then they did stop calling, so I decided to suck it up and go.
Now, the only new symptom has been my throat - nothing else, no coughing or wheezing or sneezing or anything, so I just assumed the covering doc would look at the red rawness, stick one of those sticks down my throat, and write me a prescription for the strep throat antibiotic I obviously need.
Isn't it hilarious how I'm still optimistic (and stupid) after all these years of dealing with doctors?
No it was: Let's talk about why you're in the wheelchair (because it might somehow be relevant?), and What do you mean it hurts when I press on your neck and lymph nodes (they hurt all by themselves, lady: don't touch!) and Are you sure you had bronchitis a few weeks ago? (Well, maybe I had a brontosaurus a few weeks ago, but I'm pretty sure it was bronchitis.) Literally, let's just retake your whole history, for a strep test. And then? Still not give you any antibiotics.
No, after hearing that I'd had bronchitis a couple of weeks ago, and three or four sinus infections this year, the on-call doc decided that I might just have another sinus infection, and gave me Flonase. Which... doesn't treat sinus infections. (Or, at the very least, doesn't treat MY sinus infections.) Told me to gargle with salt water (which I've been doing, and I hate, and blech). Or it could be allergies, although allergy season is mostly over....and I'm on no less than three allergy meds. Whatever. Definitely helpful, thanks!
And then she preceded to talk for fifteen minutes about how interesting POTS is and how she's never seen anybody with that, and isn't it amazing how many ways the body has to adapt to things?
Um... no?
My body is MALadaptive, lady. It is adapting poorly, not "amazingly." And I don't care if you see patients like me every single day, or once every 3000 years, could you just stop chattering on and on and actually treat what I'm here for, so I can go home and be sick in my own damn bed?
It was frustrating, to say the least, and the thing that makes it worse is that if I had called yesterday, instead of waiting to see if it'd go away (like a dope), I could've called Zack's office, and the nurse there would've just sent my antibiotic rx right through... I kind of having a standing order. But they're out of the office today, so I figured the primary care was my next best shot.
Turns out my next best shot would've been attending medical school myself, so I could write out the damn prescription and stick my own little swab down my throat. Next time.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Halfway through November
and I hit 25,000+ words. I'm going to talk about it tomorrow, I hope but I'm still trying to recuperate from various things here, and focus on not whining a lot, like I kind of want to. (Shots. Which were fine, but now are acting like I was bitten by some exotic animal all of the sudden. Anyways.) So, instead of listening to me whine, may I suggest, you take yourself of to a television set and settle in for some Parks & Recs awesomeness tonight? Special Guest star, Leslie Knope's #1 crush, Joe Biden. :) It should be spectacular.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Words, words everywhere
but none to spare for here.
Seriously beat tonight, guys. Managed to get 5000 (! I'm up to 20,812!) words written for NaNo, but between recuperating from the wedding (which I have stories! and pictures!) and having our family over, and still being sick, not to mention the stupid additional side effects from my new drug, I'm just plum worn out. So I'll try to remember to write here first tomorrow, so it'll be interesting and stuff. Night!
Seriously beat tonight, guys. Managed to get 5000 (! I'm up to 20,812!) words written for NaNo, but between recuperating from the wedding (which I have stories! and pictures!) and having our family over, and still being sick, not to mention the stupid additional side effects from my new drug, I'm just plum worn out. So I'll try to remember to write here first tomorrow, so it'll be interesting and stuff. Night!
Monday, November 12, 2012
Fail
My latest drug trial was a big huge fail after one day on it, I had a killer migraine. The second day, the migraine was better, but I still had a headache and now I had that pins and needles feeling in my arms and legs as if I'd fallen asleep on all four of my limbs at the same time. But I didn't call Zach until the third day, as pre-arranged, because, if you've started enough drugs, you know sometimes, there's a hump you have to get over. With the Lyrica, it was like living in Wonderland for the first few weeks. Some of the other drugs have made me nauseous, others made me super tired (on top of my already exhausted state), one made my sense of taste disappear for a week, a couple of others have done really strange things: I'm almost never surprised.
Except, when I called Zack, he was surprised that I'd kept taking it. "Why didn't you call me sooner - you don't have to put up with that?" Um... obviously I do, what world is he living in? "But it's good that you did, because that tells us something relevant" To Zack, everything is relevant, even if he can't figure out how yet. "Mmhmm."
So he called me back after consulting with a neurologist and this is what they come up with: the migraine and pins and needles (some sort of thesia) as a result of that specific drug show that my migraines in and of themselves could be playing a larger role in my whole pain syndrome issue than we've been assuming. So, new treatment plan: botox for the migraines. So he says to me, over the phone at like 5:30 on Friday afternoon.
Um, what? You want me to get Botox for my migraines, which suck, granted, but ... we've figured have been pretty much under control, right? Wrong. "Maybe the tension in your neck and your jaw and your nausea are more migraine centered than we've been thinking, and this would help with that." Hmm... that's actually kind of sensible.
"At the very least, it will help with the migraines, give you fewer of those, and that'll be helpful."
Now, I'm starting to get behind this plan.
I have to do a little bit more research first - since a)needles in my b)face sounds c)horrible to me - but I could get behind this, even though I'm pretty sure it'd do nothing for most of my pain. The fact is my headaches have been pretty deadly lately, so I'll take all the help I can get with them. But this is just another example of how what you think you're dealing with when it comes to chronic illness is NO WHERE NEAR where you wind up.
Except, when I called Zack, he was surprised that I'd kept taking it. "Why didn't you call me sooner - you don't have to put up with that?" Um... obviously I do, what world is he living in? "But it's good that you did, because that tells us something relevant" To Zack, everything is relevant, even if he can't figure out how yet. "Mmhmm."
So he called me back after consulting with a neurologist and this is what they come up with: the migraine and pins and needles (some sort of thesia) as a result of that specific drug show that my migraines in and of themselves could be playing a larger role in my whole pain syndrome issue than we've been assuming. So, new treatment plan: botox for the migraines. So he says to me, over the phone at like 5:30 on Friday afternoon.
Um, what? You want me to get Botox for my migraines, which suck, granted, but ... we've figured have been pretty much under control, right? Wrong. "Maybe the tension in your neck and your jaw and your nausea are more migraine centered than we've been thinking, and this would help with that." Hmm... that's actually kind of sensible.
"At the very least, it will help with the migraines, give you fewer of those, and that'll be helpful."
Now, I'm starting to get behind this plan.
I have to do a little bit more research first - since a)needles in my b)face sounds c)horrible to me - but I could get behind this, even though I'm pretty sure it'd do nothing for most of my pain. The fact is my headaches have been pretty deadly lately, so I'll take all the help I can get with them. But this is just another example of how what you think you're dealing with when it comes to chronic illness is NO WHERE NEAR where you wind up.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Heading to a big family shindig
tonight. Doing my best to coast along on my meds as best I can. Not working all that well, as having company is a bit of an additional (but awesome) strain. I am so enjoying having heartfelt people in the house. Not overly happy, not upset, just genuine people. People I love and who love me, and who don't totally get it (seriously, Aunt Pam: stop with the patting!), but who try really hard and are on vacation and will stay up all night playing games and talking about whatever we feel like - heavy things and nothing things, and everything in between - and just breathing. Of course, my dad is still here, and he's like this heaviness over everything, but I'm doing my best to ignore that as well. I can tell it's a tad bit uncomfortable for them, but I'm not going to be able to just push everything aside and pretend all is fine and dandy, and I told them that. So, we're grown ups, we're not all getting along, we can be civil, and we're working from there. In the meantime, aside from that, and the fact that I feel like I'm being given electro-shock therapy (stupid new meds) AND being trampled by horses (just my regular fibro feelings), I'm having a perfectly lovely, agreeable visit. They've gone off on a Fenway tour, which gives me a chance to get some breathing time in, and I'm giving myself a two day pass on the NaNo, which means a lot of catch-up come Tuesday, but less pressure today tomorrow (since I know my brain is going to be worth nothing after all the drugs I'm going to need to make it through this wedding tonight). So, talk to you tomorrow, ladies and gents, hope your weekend is going smoothly too. :)
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Trying hard
to keep this from becoming a daily NaNo record, but, you guys, I hit 15,000 words today, and that? Rocks. Because I did that in spite of the god damn bronchitis, and antibiotics x3, and my mom being sick as well, and two sleepovers, trying to get organized for company and trying to get ready for a big family wedding tomorrow. Sure, some things fell by the wayside, but they'll be there when I get around to them (eventually).
In the meantime, I'm going to give myself a big high five and take a deep breath, then put on my gorram bra because that company I mentioned before should be here in the next few minutes. Bras are stupid.
In the meantime, I'm going to give myself a big high five and take a deep breath, then put on my gorram bra because that company I mentioned before should be here in the next few minutes. Bras are stupid.
Friday, November 09, 2012
We won't talk about what happens to my plans
My words are running at a loss today, sorry. Major league brain fog. Every one of the 924 words I wrote for NaNo were hard fought, and I can't guarantee they were worth much this morning, but they're written. I'm at about 12,300, which is a tad behind, but I'm going to power through, come next week. (Right?) At least that's the plan.
Thursday, November 08, 2012
Got a lot accomplished today
but I'm exhausted now. (Shocker!) Today was the kind of day when I spent so long making lunch that I was too tired to eat it by the time it was ready. So, I ate it for dinner. Eventually. And it wasn't any special, elaborate lunch either - just roasted vegetables - but between the chopping and peeling (not to mention getting everything else off the only area I can use can reach for chopping and peeling), I nearly had to lay down on the floor in the kitchen once I got them in the oven. Plus? Squash skin are like impossible to slice into - I felt like I needed a hatchet. Or a hammer.
It was obviously a low energy day, and a high energy activity. (Probably not for other people, but definitely for me.)
Aside from that, I did some cleaning in my room, got the floor in the library picked up since we'll be having company this weekend as a cousin is getting married on Sunday, and wrote more than 2000 words for NaNo today.
So, if I could nap, it would definitely be time for that. Instead, I'm going to watch Jeopardy! and hope that there are some good categories. Night all!
It was obviously a low energy day, and a high energy activity. (Probably not for other people, but definitely for me.)
Aside from that, I did some cleaning in my room, got the floor in the library picked up since we'll be having company this weekend as a cousin is getting married on Sunday, and wrote more than 2000 words for NaNo today.
So, if I could nap, it would definitely be time for that. Instead, I'm going to watch Jeopardy! and hope that there are some good categories. Night all!
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
Definitely not anxious
... but have the election results been posted yet?
Seriously avoiding most media at this point (have checked the Twitter a few times), because I just can't handle it. Either we're going Forward or we're going back to the (18)40's. And, at this point, I can't do anything about it at all. So, back to NaNo and boosting my word count (up near 8000 words, which is a little shy of where I should be, but still: rocks and kicks ass, so I don't care). See you on the flip side, readers.
Seriously avoiding most media at this point (have checked the Twitter a few times), because I just can't handle it. Either we're going Forward or we're going back to the (18)40's. And, at this point, I can't do anything about it at all. So, back to NaNo and boosting my word count (up near 8000 words, which is a little shy of where I should be, but still: rocks and kicks ass, so I don't care). See you on the flip side, readers.
Monday, November 05, 2012
As if I wasn't doing enough
I started a new med last night. For pain (of course). So far, all I'm feeling is that my pain is turned up a notch, but I'm hoping that that's a result of an overextended weekend, as opposed to a medicine that's supposed to help me. Of course, this would not be the first (second, third, or hundredth) time that instead of making things better a new med decided to make things worse, so I'm also keeping an open mind. Fingers crossed, mind open, and Zack on speed-dial. That's the way I'm making it through this Monday, folks.
Sunday, November 04, 2012
One of these days they'll make it past midnight
Well, after all that build up, Lil Girl conked out on me just past 11:00, which, to be fair is two hours past her normal bed time. She was totally revved until about 10:45, when we put in our third Disney movie (one thing about kids movies, is that they're generally shorter than regular movies). She was nearly buzzing "Look how good I'm doing: I'm going to stay up till 1:00, for sure!" She picked the movie, laid back down on the couch while I skipped over all the previews and just as Belle launched into "As long as there's Christmas"... I look over and she's snoring.
Oh well. I tucked her in and headed back to my bed, where I read through the night and cursed the fact that I've got Christmas songs stuck in my head already, and it's only the fourth of November.
(And if you watch till about the three minute mark, so will you: sorry!)
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eAZmPH9HGdo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Oh well. I tucked her in and headed back to my bed, where I read through the night and cursed the fact that I've got Christmas songs stuck in my head already, and it's only the fourth of November.
(And if you watch till about the three minute mark, so will you: sorry!)
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eAZmPH9HGdo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Saturday, November 03, 2012
Getting Ready
for Lil Girl to come over for a sleepover. Very excited: I have no doubt that she'll make it past her brother's midnight mark from last weekend's Fright Fest - we didn't even make it through one scary movie: the kid wanted to watch The Hunger Games, then he zonked out on me five minutes into The Woman in Black, which - just: no. I was too sad to watch a movie where kids kept dying. Lil Girl is another story: I told her we could stay up "all night long", so I'm anticipating a looong night. It'll be a nice change to have company during the wee hours, though. (Company and Disney movies... all I need now is to make some brownies.)
Wrote my three pages for today (am a little off target, but so please with what I've written that I don't care about the numbers yet: ask me again on the 28th), getting the blog posted, trying to go into the sleepover with (what I have that passes for) energy & enthusiasim. I miss her so much, and I'm wicked excited... but I also know somewhere around 9 o'clock, she's going to be wearing on my nerves and we're both going to need a nap. :) That's the fun of six year olds: all the energy of a three-year-old, with none of the naps.
See you in the morning ~ hope your Saturday night is as exciting as mine. (I'm going to think of a name to call you all, but I'm coming up blank: 'the five of you', how's that sound?)
Wrote my three pages for today (am a little off target, but so please with what I've written that I don't care about the numbers yet: ask me again on the 28th), getting the blog posted, trying to go into the sleepover with (what I have that passes for) energy & enthusiasim. I miss her so much, and I'm wicked excited... but I also know somewhere around 9 o'clock, she's going to be wearing on my nerves and we're both going to need a nap. :) That's the fun of six year olds: all the energy of a three-year-old, with none of the naps.
See you in the morning ~ hope your Saturday night is as exciting as mine. (I'm going to think of a name to call you all, but I'm coming up blank: 'the five of you', how's that sound?)
Friday, November 02, 2012
NaNoWriMo
so far, my novel is skewing towards the Young Adult side of the spectrum, which is leaving me with one major problem: Not only am I no longer a Young Adult (at least, not as far as publishing standards go), when I was, I didn't do anything that would be considered 'typical'. I have no idea what "teenagers" did: I know I spent most of my time sleeping and visiting doctors offices. Trudging my way through home tutoring and pretending that missing out on social events wasn't a huge deal. (Jr Prom vs. Star Wars marathon with your mom? As much as I appreciated the effort, I probably still would have preferred the prom.) Busting my butt so I could graduate on time, even though nobody else thought I should even care about that. Trying to get my family to realize that I was neither a)on drugs, b)pregnant, c)faking it or d) being overly dramatic.
And so, somehow, I find myself writing (and researching) about a chronically ill teenager - one with more of a social life than I ever had (otherwise the book would be both boring "Today she slept for 18 hours" and too short to meet the 50,000 words), but with some of my experiences and emotions peppered in. And I'm loving it.
Even though I had 1330 words yesterday and today I only have 950. But they're a good 950, and that's more important, right?
And so, somehow, I find myself writing (and researching) about a chronically ill teenager - one with more of a social life than I ever had (otherwise the book would be both boring "Today she slept for 18 hours" and too short to meet the 50,000 words), but with some of my experiences and emotions peppered in. And I'm loving it.
Even though I had 1330 words yesterday and today I only have 950. But they're a good 950, and that's more important, right?
Thursday, November 01, 2012
Here we are in November again,
that time of year when your Google Reader explodes as all the lax bloggers (like me!) attempt to come up with blog fodder for their daily NaBloPoMo attempts. I haven't decided yet whether or not I'm going to try for that, I just know that I don't want to miss out on my 6th year because I was so stuck in a funk I couldn't even try. So, I figure I'll try. Who knows?
The funk, though, man. It's like Pigpen level, people. Between the bronchitis and my complete inability to stand people, I have been a joy to be around, I assure you. I got a ton of things accomplished this morning, however: rebooked a bunch of appointments I missed out on because of the germs that were trying to take over my body, labelled two hundred pictures, bought a couple more Christmas presents (leaving me with like, four people left, which is awesome, and necessary because we all know I will get sick 17 times between now and then, and that severely cuts into your shopping time).
Started writing a novel.
I'm sorry? What was that?
Yeah: I signed up for NaNoWriMo, because I am, apparently, an idiot. No, in truth it's because there are apparently no limits to my ability to procrastinate doing things I really don't want to do, because instead of looking for housing again this morning (because it is so gorram frustrating and near to impossible), I signed myself up to write 50,000 words in the next thirty days. I'm kind of a dope. Not that I can't write 50,000 words in thirty days, it's the "having them all go together logically" part that gets me. I've written a couple of (really bad, no, honestly terrible) novels already, but this will be my first time pressured one, so it'll be interesting to see how it comes out. So far I have about 1000 words of description on three of the main characters. I'm surprised I didn't start writing about their shoe sizes, to be honest... Now I've just got to get them to do something interesting.
So I hope to write here, I hope to write there; I hope to be there more for the people who need me, and figure out how to better ask for the things I need; I hope to find some miraculous new way of affording (not just financially, but physically) my own place; I hope to figure out how to stop being so angry and sad all the time; I hope to dig my way out of this funk and through to the other side, however I can. November, you've got a lot riding on you, so let's kick ass.
Good luck to all of my fabulous readers ~ may whatever you hope to do in November work out for all of you. Fingers crossed.
The funk, though, man. It's like Pigpen level, people. Between the bronchitis and my complete inability to stand people, I have been a joy to be around, I assure you. I got a ton of things accomplished this morning, however: rebooked a bunch of appointments I missed out on because of the germs that were trying to take over my body, labelled two hundred pictures, bought a couple more Christmas presents (leaving me with like, four people left, which is awesome, and necessary because we all know I will get sick 17 times between now and then, and that severely cuts into your shopping time).
Started writing a novel.
I'm sorry? What was that?
Yeah: I signed up for NaNoWriMo, because I am, apparently, an idiot. No, in truth it's because there are apparently no limits to my ability to procrastinate doing things I really don't want to do, because instead of looking for housing again this morning (because it is so gorram frustrating and near to impossible), I signed myself up to write 50,000 words in the next thirty days. I'm kind of a dope. Not that I can't write 50,000 words in thirty days, it's the "having them all go together logically" part that gets me. I've written a couple of (really bad, no, honestly terrible) novels already, but this will be my first time pressured one, so it'll be interesting to see how it comes out. So far I have about 1000 words of description on three of the main characters. I'm surprised I didn't start writing about their shoe sizes, to be honest... Now I've just got to get them to do something interesting.
So I hope to write here, I hope to write there; I hope to be there more for the people who need me, and figure out how to better ask for the things I need; I hope to find some miraculous new way of affording (not just financially, but physically) my own place; I hope to figure out how to stop being so angry and sad all the time; I hope to dig my way out of this funk and through to the other side, however I can. November, you've got a lot riding on you, so let's kick ass.
Good luck to all of my fabulous readers ~ may whatever you hope to do in November work out for all of you. Fingers crossed.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
A little health catch-up
Got knocked out of commission by a wicked cold sometime around the middle of last week, and I've been struggling to reconnect with my brain since then. (Fevers are not my friend.) It seems like all bad news around here, which makes me not want to write anything because it's so depressing and all of you all have been so great and wonderful and supportive, but who wants to listen to a person complain forever? Nobody. Especially if it's not entertaining complaining. Trust me: there was nothing entertaining about my cold, the sinus infection that followed it, or the fact that every drug I took seemed to make things worse - What the hell, steroids? Why do you make my fibro flare?
Only thing I can say is that when College Roommate/Best Friend asked me if I would be Baby Olivia's godmother, I said I'd be there in the church 'unless I was in the hospital.' Which is stupid, because OBVIOUSLY my body takes that as a challenge and is like "Oh really? Let's see what we can do about that!" I've got till Sunday to shake everything from the rapid heartbeat to the contagious germs (and, honestly, as long as I've lost the contagious germs, I'm going), so fingers crossed. Could use a dose of teeny baby magic :)
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On what all the doctors I've seen in the past month (and as I've been cramming them in to make up for all the appointments I cancelled over the summer, that's been quite a few) consider to be the plus side, I've lost about thirty pounds since February. I guess I should feel more positive about this, except I know that at least half of that is probably attributable to stress, as opposed to the better eating habits (almost no take-out, heart healthy-food, for the most part) I acquired at Grandmother's. I can't help but feel that worrying yourself to the point of exhaustion, skipping meals (and therefore my meds), or eating three bowls of cereal a day actually aren't the principles of a balanced diet, but the doctors are so happy I've lost weight that they don't want to hear about those sort of pesky details.
Still, it has had some positive side-effects: My liver numbers went from somewhere in the 100s to less than fifty; my sugar numbers and Hemoglobin A1C are both at non-diabetes (even non-pre-diabetes) levels again; and I had to buy new bras because the old ones didn't fit. (I have to buy other stuff too, but I'm poor and the bras are expensive and have to come first.)
I'm finding the 'no take out' rule harder to handle here at home, where take out is the almost daily norm, plus I'm sick as a dog and can barely manage to eat what somebody puts in front of me most days, but I'm also cutting myself some slack on that because I am freaking exhausted right now and can only deal with so much. I had a nutritionist appointment last week, and all she kept saying was "keep it up, keep it off." And I wanted to say, maybe you should be more concerned with my actual health rather than just my weight? but it didn't seem like the right audience for that. Nutrition barely came up at all.
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I also had an appointment with Zach a week ago, and he kind of shocked me by asking if I thought I needed an anti-depressant. An anti-depressant is for depression, I thought: I'm not depressed, I'm sad. I'm mired in (what I consider to be) the reasonable quagmire of grief that comes after losing someone you loved so immensely; I'm overwhelmed with confusion about what comes next after putting my own life (such as it was) on hold to care for someone else for almost 6 months and then watching her die; not to mention being almost swallowed up by toxic family drama and sludge. "It's only been a month," I said: "It's too soon for me to start thinking about whether or not this could turn into depression." He looked at me for a minute and then said "It's never too soon, because you have a history ~ I didn't think you needed one either, but I wanted to make sure you were being vigilant about monitoring your feelings - I needed to make sure that you were on alert."
As if I'm never not on alert.
-----
Promise to be back soon with something not-depressing, even if I have to make it up.
Only thing I can say is that when College Roommate/Best Friend asked me if I would be Baby Olivia's godmother, I said I'd be there in the church 'unless I was in the hospital.' Which is stupid, because OBVIOUSLY my body takes that as a challenge and is like "Oh really? Let's see what we can do about that!" I've got till Sunday to shake everything from the rapid heartbeat to the contagious germs (and, honestly, as long as I've lost the contagious germs, I'm going), so fingers crossed. Could use a dose of teeny baby magic :)
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On what all the doctors I've seen in the past month (and as I've been cramming them in to make up for all the appointments I cancelled over the summer, that's been quite a few) consider to be the plus side, I've lost about thirty pounds since February. I guess I should feel more positive about this, except I know that at least half of that is probably attributable to stress, as opposed to the better eating habits (almost no take-out, heart healthy-food, for the most part) I acquired at Grandmother's. I can't help but feel that worrying yourself to the point of exhaustion, skipping meals (and therefore my meds), or eating three bowls of cereal a day actually aren't the principles of a balanced diet, but the doctors are so happy I've lost weight that they don't want to hear about those sort of pesky details.
Still, it has had some positive side-effects: My liver numbers went from somewhere in the 100s to less than fifty; my sugar numbers and Hemoglobin A1C are both at non-diabetes (even non-pre-diabetes) levels again; and I had to buy new bras because the old ones didn't fit. (I have to buy other stuff too, but I'm poor and the bras are expensive and have to come first.)
I'm finding the 'no take out' rule harder to handle here at home, where take out is the almost daily norm, plus I'm sick as a dog and can barely manage to eat what somebody puts in front of me most days, but I'm also cutting myself some slack on that because I am freaking exhausted right now and can only deal with so much. I had a nutritionist appointment last week, and all she kept saying was "keep it up, keep it off." And I wanted to say, maybe you should be more concerned with my actual health rather than just my weight? but it didn't seem like the right audience for that. Nutrition barely came up at all.
----------
I also had an appointment with Zach a week ago, and he kind of shocked me by asking if I thought I needed an anti-depressant. An anti-depressant is for depression, I thought: I'm not depressed, I'm sad. I'm mired in (what I consider to be) the reasonable quagmire of grief that comes after losing someone you loved so immensely; I'm overwhelmed with confusion about what comes next after putting my own life (such as it was) on hold to care for someone else for almost 6 months and then watching her die; not to mention being almost swallowed up by toxic family drama and sludge. "It's only been a month," I said: "It's too soon for me to start thinking about whether or not this could turn into depression." He looked at me for a minute and then said "It's never too soon, because you have a history ~ I didn't think you needed one either, but I wanted to make sure you were being vigilant about monitoring your feelings - I needed to make sure that you were on alert."
As if I'm never not on alert.
-----
Promise to be back soon with something not-depressing, even if I have to make it up.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Blueberry Pie & Twizzlers aren't much of a housewarming present, but it's all I"ve got
My sister and brother-in-law are moving out today, and I am not ok
with that. We've lived apart before and would have to again eventually,
at some point anyways, so it's not that so much as how and when it's
happening that is so heartbreaking. It is, in all actuality, going to
turn out to be a positive thing for her, for them: it's a thousand
percent in their favor that they would move out of some place that is
unhealthy & stressful for them, especially at time where they need
things to be as stress free as possible. I'm three thousand percent
behind them, and will continue to try to find ways to make things as
stress-free as I can, even if it means hounding my B-I-L for updates bc I
know my sister doesn't like to be pestered (He doesn't mind).
The problem is that I just can't seem to get past the fact that it's so stressful and unhealthy for them (and me) for No. Damn. Reason. Except that people feel like being assholes. Well, one person in particular, really. Who is so busy playing the victim in his own mind that he can't seem to grasp the fact that hurting other people is the reason no one wants to talk to him. Because he's "being nice now." Like any of us trust that.
-----------
I have avoided talking to the two sisters who grew up with our parents but don't live here, mostly because, since they don't live here, I usually have to hear about a thousand excuses from them about how his behavior isn't really that bad and I should have some compassion for him. And it's not even that I don't have compassion for him: it's that he's trampled it all, as well as pretty much every other feeling I have for him, consistently over a long period of time.
The sisters who don't live here seem to forget a) how much they both hated living here when they did - so much so that one left for 'vacation' full well knowing she wasn't coming back but kept it a secret till she was there so she wouldn't have to tell him in person, and the other moved out as soon as she could manage it. Three times; and b) exactly how he behaves when you are in his life on a regular basis. I suppose if you only have to see him at birthdays, barbecues and/or holidays, or listen to him complain that you never call him anymore once every 5 months or so, then he'd be a lot easier to take. I don't doubt that that is true; I hope it proves true - for his sake as much as mine and SisterJ's.
It's my opinion that he just can't give up feeling like he's supposed to be the boss, even though we're grown adults (not to mention that he wasn't really the boss in our family, he just thought he was because he was stricter). And since he can't be the boss in the way that he thinks he should be - i.e. being able to dictate your 'attitude' or demand the respect he thinks he is 'owed' - he tries to bully people instead.
And, for a long time, we've let him.
That isn't to say one or the other of us - or a group of us - haven't stood up for ourselves at different points, or demanded changes in our relationships... it's just that when you stop being vigilant about your boundaries, certain people (maybe all people? I don't really know) will notice that you're no longer guarding things that 'do not cross' lines as closely as you once were and will begin to inch their way back over again.
And I can't keep letting that happen.
So we've got to figure out a different way to interact with each other, and two things will need to happen (from my perspective) before I could even attempt that. First, he'd have to take real responsibility for his actions - meaning he has to stop thinking it's ok, just because he's stressed out at work, or with other people, to take that out on somebody and start to make changes in his own behavior. And second, I'd have to figure out how to let go of some of my own anger and figure out how change my behavior so that he can't cross those boundaries anymore: to just accept the fact that he doesn't have to be happy about it, I'm going to do what I need to do regardless. (This is more difficult than you'd imagine when you live in his house. And are financially dependent upon him.)
And since I can't make him do the things I think he needs to do, I'm focusing on that second part there. I'm definitely not on-board with forgiving, just yet. Don't know when I could possibly get on-board with that. But trying to figure out how I can live away from here, how I can turn myself into one of the sisters who just sees him every couple of months and deals with that in a more healthy manner? That's what I'm trying to work on right now.
And I know, eventually, it'll be what SisterJ works herself around to, too. She's too big-hearted (even though she'd like to say she's heartless) to not want to figure it out: that's why she's so hurt right now, because she didn't do anything to screw it up in the first place, but it still blew up in her face. So, yeah, I know her leaving is a good thing.
A necessary thing.
And, like I said, in the long run, I have no doubt they'll be much happier there... it's just I don't want to be so far away from her when I know she needs me, and it's not as easy for me as it is for other people to just 'pop' in on her at her new place. (Obstacles, oh how I hate your ever living guts. Chronic Illness-related Obstacles: goes double for you.)
But it sucks donkey balls, and I can't help being pissed off at him for it. He's just going to have to get over that.
The problem is that I just can't seem to get past the fact that it's so stressful and unhealthy for them (and me) for No. Damn. Reason. Except that people feel like being assholes. Well, one person in particular, really. Who is so busy playing the victim in his own mind that he can't seem to grasp the fact that hurting other people is the reason no one wants to talk to him. Because he's "being nice now." Like any of us trust that.
-----------
I have avoided talking to the two sisters who grew up with our parents but don't live here, mostly because, since they don't live here, I usually have to hear about a thousand excuses from them about how his behavior isn't really that bad and I should have some compassion for him. And it's not even that I don't have compassion for him: it's that he's trampled it all, as well as pretty much every other feeling I have for him, consistently over a long period of time.
The sisters who don't live here seem to forget a) how much they both hated living here when they did - so much so that one left for 'vacation' full well knowing she wasn't coming back but kept it a secret till she was there so she wouldn't have to tell him in person, and the other moved out as soon as she could manage it. Three times; and b) exactly how he behaves when you are in his life on a regular basis. I suppose if you only have to see him at birthdays, barbecues and/or holidays, or listen to him complain that you never call him anymore once every 5 months or so, then he'd be a lot easier to take. I don't doubt that that is true; I hope it proves true - for his sake as much as mine and SisterJ's.
It's my opinion that he just can't give up feeling like he's supposed to be the boss, even though we're grown adults (not to mention that he wasn't really the boss in our family, he just thought he was because he was stricter). And since he can't be the boss in the way that he thinks he should be - i.e. being able to dictate your 'attitude' or demand the respect he thinks he is 'owed' - he tries to bully people instead.
And, for a long time, we've let him.
That isn't to say one or the other of us - or a group of us - haven't stood up for ourselves at different points, or demanded changes in our relationships... it's just that when you stop being vigilant about your boundaries, certain people (maybe all people? I don't really know) will notice that you're no longer guarding things that 'do not cross' lines as closely as you once were and will begin to inch their way back over again.
And I can't keep letting that happen.
So we've got to figure out a different way to interact with each other, and two things will need to happen (from my perspective) before I could even attempt that. First, he'd have to take real responsibility for his actions - meaning he has to stop thinking it's ok, just because he's stressed out at work, or with other people, to take that out on somebody and start to make changes in his own behavior. And second, I'd have to figure out how to let go of some of my own anger and figure out how change my behavior so that he can't cross those boundaries anymore: to just accept the fact that he doesn't have to be happy about it, I'm going to do what I need to do regardless. (This is more difficult than you'd imagine when you live in his house. And are financially dependent upon him.)
And since I can't make him do the things I think he needs to do, I'm focusing on that second part there. I'm definitely not on-board with forgiving, just yet. Don't know when I could possibly get on-board with that. But trying to figure out how I can live away from here, how I can turn myself into one of the sisters who just sees him every couple of months and deals with that in a more healthy manner? That's what I'm trying to work on right now.
And I know, eventually, it'll be what SisterJ works herself around to, too. She's too big-hearted (even though she'd like to say she's heartless) to not want to figure it out: that's why she's so hurt right now, because she didn't do anything to screw it up in the first place, but it still blew up in her face. So, yeah, I know her leaving is a good thing.
A necessary thing.
And, like I said, in the long run, I have no doubt they'll be much happier there... it's just I don't want to be so far away from her when I know she needs me, and it's not as easy for me as it is for other people to just 'pop' in on her at her new place. (Obstacles, oh how I hate your ever living guts. Chronic Illness-related Obstacles: goes double for you.)
But it sucks donkey balls, and I can't help being pissed off at him for it. He's just going to have to get over that.
Saturday, October 06, 2012
Hi Again
I know it's been a couple of weeks ~ I'll claim the first two do to just complete exhaustion, and the last two because things are pretty fucked up here, and I'd hoped to come back and be able to say "Thank you so much for your kind thoughts" and then move on to happier things. But I don't seem to have any happier things, right now. Which is not just to say that I'm f'ed up (although I am): there's a whole bunch of family shit that's gone down that's beyond messed up, and somewhere between my grief and the situation and everybody else's grief and confusion and all of our individual issues, it feels like my family is basically coming apart at the seams. Not that those stitches were all that tight two months ago, but they just sort of burst the week of my grandmother's funeral, and I'm at a complete loss as to how to pull them back together again.
I don't even know where I am or what I'm doing, at this point, besides making it through the next fucking minute without falling apart. And I'm not always doing a bang up job on that, to be honest. I'm back at our house, but it's not home - it really never was, only maybe I was better at pretending before I watched my grandmother die and realized that I need to do more than mark my time here. I can't seem to talk to anybody without causing a secondhand fight, can't seem to get anybody to listen to me at all, can't seem to connect with the people who've offered to help, even when I want to (and I don't always want to: it seems like too much explaining, mostly). I feel like exploding just about every minute of every day, or, I feel completely absent and numb - it's one or the other, seems like.
My dad threw my sister and brother-in-law out of the house, the night before my grandmother's funeral. Nobody told me what the hell was going on, because, I don't know they thought I would be too upset to notice that people weren't talking to each other? I don't know. So I got the lowlights third and fourth hand, then when I tried to talk to people, it was a disaster and didn't make anything any clearer for them or for me.
My mom left my dad, then came back, but only because she didn't have anywhere else to go, and then, later, because she wouldn't leave my sister and brother-in-law in the house with just him. This was all in the days immediately after we had just buried my grandmother, so I will admit that I did not have all cylinders going. I mostly wanted (still want) to curl up in a ball and ignore everything, because it takes so much energy, and I am plum out.
My dad says the stress of being targeted at work (and, yes, he is being targeted at work) made him snap and... a whole load of bullshit that basically means it's not his fault, but maybe yes, he might admit that he was wrong and 'an asshole' (What he won't cop to, is that this happens All The Damn Time, and nobody feels safe around him/trusts him anymore because he's a bully). My sister & brother-in-law immediately started looking for a new place, because, hell: who wants to live like that? They've been thrown out twice in the matter of a year for Doing. Nothing. Wrong. And let's be clear - they didn't do shit, he just took it out on them. I told my mother while I was still at Grandmother's house, that I didn't want to be here either... that I would be looking for a new place as soon as I could. {Of course, that was because I forgot that I couldn't place emotional well-being above money, health and other issues without there being major sacrifices of money and health and other things, but I'm still determined to do it} My mother told him she was leaving too, although it would be better for everybody if HE just left. He refused/refuses to leave.
So today my sister and brother-in-law are signing a lease for their new place, at the worst possible time for them bc my sister is trying to wean off her meds so that they can get pregnant, and she could really use some backup (which is just when you should be forced to move away from people who can back you up). She's hurt and mad at my mom for her response to this whole ball of bullshit, which I can't seem to talk to either of them about, because their both freezing me out when it comes to that. She might even be mad at me, and since she's the one who reads this blog I'm only going to say that I hope she's not, because I feel like I'm on her side, but if she is, I hope she'll tell me so I can try to fix it.
My dad and I had a whole discussion about how mad I am at him the other day, and how it's his fault that SisterJ & B-I-L are moving and that I'm looking for a place, and that Mom is probably looking for a place too, and when my mom asked him what he got out of it he told her that he "has a big heart but doesn't use it." Which was said once, in the midst of a three hour discussion about how badly he is screwing things up and all the things he is ruining by his behavior, and how hard it's going to be once he realizes how badly he's damaged people he's supposed to care about and how I'm too old for this shit and I'm just not sticking around anymore to watch him bully people (or to be bullied) and how he's being completely selfish, but that's what we all expect him to be at this point, so that we don't even talk to him about our shit anymore and a huge rant about how he's a total hypocrite and totally ignores the people in our family and expects us to be there for him and how he never fucking listens ... anyways. What he took out of all of that was me saying he had a big heart, which just proves my point about him never listening, and that I really need to get the hell out of here.
Mom and I have talked - or sort of talked - about what she's going to do: she says she's going and she's done, and all of that. But I don't know: she still seems undecided to me, and I don't know how much of that is the fact that she's changing her meds, and she's still grieving for my grandmother, too, and she seems to be leaning waaay closer to the numb side of things than I am. Of course, complicating all of that is the fact that she's my PCA, and she does a lot more for me than the hours the state provides for her, which is pretty simple when you're living in the same house, but a hell of a lot more complicated once I find somewhere else to live.
Which doesn't even mention that moving changes everything for me, financially - I have to notify the SSI people, and Mass Health (my insurance) and the PCA program, and everybody does a whole new evaluation and yippee: more energy I don't have. Plus, I can't afford any place to actually live on what my SSI is currently, so I have to apply for housing stipends, which means that the already complicated task of finding accessible housing (and granted, I can use non-100%accessible bathrooms, which puts me a step above other househunters with disabilities) all that much more complicated, because now I have to look for accessible housing that takes waivers/stipends from the government. It's so much fun so far!
But here's the thing, as every fucking thing seems to crumble around me (which you could tell only by the fact that I've cursed like five times in this post, when I usually don't ever), I learned a lot about myself this summer, being with Grandmother during those five months. I learned that I can handle a lot more shit than I thought I could, even if I have to breakdown in tears when nobody is looking. And even if I shouldn't have to handle any of this, because it's all ridiculous and I don't want to have to deal with it, because it's hard: even though it's ridiculous and hard and stressful and I Don't Want To, I'm going to be able to do it. I'm going to drag myself and my family through it, and eventually we'll all come out the other side, having met the challenge.
Being a grown-up sure does suck, you guys.
I don't even know where I am or what I'm doing, at this point, besides making it through the next fucking minute without falling apart. And I'm not always doing a bang up job on that, to be honest. I'm back at our house, but it's not home - it really never was, only maybe I was better at pretending before I watched my grandmother die and realized that I need to do more than mark my time here. I can't seem to talk to anybody without causing a secondhand fight, can't seem to get anybody to listen to me at all, can't seem to connect with the people who've offered to help, even when I want to (and I don't always want to: it seems like too much explaining, mostly). I feel like exploding just about every minute of every day, or, I feel completely absent and numb - it's one or the other, seems like.
My dad threw my sister and brother-in-law out of the house, the night before my grandmother's funeral. Nobody told me what the hell was going on, because, I don't know they thought I would be too upset to notice that people weren't talking to each other? I don't know. So I got the lowlights third and fourth hand, then when I tried to talk to people, it was a disaster and didn't make anything any clearer for them or for me.
My mom left my dad, then came back, but only because she didn't have anywhere else to go, and then, later, because she wouldn't leave my sister and brother-in-law in the house with just him. This was all in the days immediately after we had just buried my grandmother, so I will admit that I did not have all cylinders going. I mostly wanted (still want) to curl up in a ball and ignore everything, because it takes so much energy, and I am plum out.
My dad says the stress of being targeted at work (and, yes, he is being targeted at work) made him snap and... a whole load of bullshit that basically means it's not his fault, but maybe yes, he might admit that he was wrong and 'an asshole' (What he won't cop to, is that this happens All The Damn Time, and nobody feels safe around him/trusts him anymore because he's a bully). My sister & brother-in-law immediately started looking for a new place, because, hell: who wants to live like that? They've been thrown out twice in the matter of a year for Doing. Nothing. Wrong. And let's be clear - they didn't do shit, he just took it out on them. I told my mother while I was still at Grandmother's house, that I didn't want to be here either... that I would be looking for a new place as soon as I could. {Of course, that was because I forgot that I couldn't place emotional well-being above money, health and other issues without there being major sacrifices of money and health and other things, but I'm still determined to do it} My mother told him she was leaving too, although it would be better for everybody if HE just left. He refused/refuses to leave.
So today my sister and brother-in-law are signing a lease for their new place, at the worst possible time for them bc my sister is trying to wean off her meds so that they can get pregnant, and she could really use some backup (which is just when you should be forced to move away from people who can back you up). She's hurt and mad at my mom for her response to this whole ball of bullshit, which I can't seem to talk to either of them about, because their both freezing me out when it comes to that. She might even be mad at me, and since she's the one who reads this blog I'm only going to say that I hope she's not, because I feel like I'm on her side, but if she is, I hope she'll tell me so I can try to fix it.
My dad and I had a whole discussion about how mad I am at him the other day, and how it's his fault that SisterJ & B-I-L are moving and that I'm looking for a place, and that Mom is probably looking for a place too, and when my mom asked him what he got out of it he told her that he "has a big heart but doesn't use it." Which was said once, in the midst of a three hour discussion about how badly he is screwing things up and all the things he is ruining by his behavior, and how hard it's going to be once he realizes how badly he's damaged people he's supposed to care about and how I'm too old for this shit and I'm just not sticking around anymore to watch him bully people (or to be bullied) and how he's being completely selfish, but that's what we all expect him to be at this point, so that we don't even talk to him about our shit anymore and a huge rant about how he's a total hypocrite and totally ignores the people in our family and expects us to be there for him and how he never fucking listens ... anyways. What he took out of all of that was me saying he had a big heart, which just proves my point about him never listening, and that I really need to get the hell out of here.
Mom and I have talked - or sort of talked - about what she's going to do: she says she's going and she's done, and all of that. But I don't know: she still seems undecided to me, and I don't know how much of that is the fact that she's changing her meds, and she's still grieving for my grandmother, too, and she seems to be leaning waaay closer to the numb side of things than I am. Of course, complicating all of that is the fact that she's my PCA, and she does a lot more for me than the hours the state provides for her, which is pretty simple when you're living in the same house, but a hell of a lot more complicated once I find somewhere else to live.
Which doesn't even mention that moving changes everything for me, financially - I have to notify the SSI people, and Mass Health (my insurance) and the PCA program, and everybody does a whole new evaluation and yippee: more energy I don't have. Plus, I can't afford any place to actually live on what my SSI is currently, so I have to apply for housing stipends, which means that the already complicated task of finding accessible housing (and granted, I can use non-100%accessible bathrooms, which puts me a step above other househunters with disabilities) all that much more complicated, because now I have to look for accessible housing that takes waivers/stipends from the government. It's so much fun so far!
But here's the thing, as every fucking thing seems to crumble around me (which you could tell only by the fact that I've cursed like five times in this post, when I usually don't ever), I learned a lot about myself this summer, being with Grandmother during those five months. I learned that I can handle a lot more shit than I thought I could, even if I have to breakdown in tears when nobody is looking. And even if I shouldn't have to handle any of this, because it's all ridiculous and I don't want to have to deal with it, because it's hard: even though it's ridiculous and hard and stressful and I Don't Want To, I'm going to be able to do it. I'm going to drag myself and my family through it, and eventually we'll all come out the other side, having met the challenge.
Being a grown-up sure does suck, you guys.
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