Daily Archives: April 3, 2015

Living Separate Lives

My wife and I share a vast majority of our time together. We cook and eat together. We spend our...

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“Heroic Couplets”

The Black Prince: statue of an English hero, Leeds.

The Black Prince: statue of an English hero, Leeds.

A bit of poetic nonsense for you:

Heroic Couplets

Heroic couplets really ought to be
fair tales of heroes coupling heroically

Say Nelson, St Joan, in a heated tub
to show Olympus all you need is love

Instead that curfew knells the toll away
to let us know of partings in the day.

 

Sherlock Holmes: portrait of a fictional hero, London

Sherlock Holmes: portrait of a fictional hero, London

 

Found this when I was tidying up earlier today. It was written some time back, witness the fact it had been typed.

a-z challenge: d

Doh ray mi da da da dum didi doo dum dum. Today’s post is brought to you by the letter D. D is for dog. D is also for disclaimer, but I can’t think of one for this. Damn.

The distraction du jour is a description of my own delightful dog, using particularly goofy images from medieval bestiaries. You have no idea just how much I am struggling right now, to avoid working the words doggy style into this post.

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My dog is not blue, but she does wake me (early and often) by trying to drag me from the bed with a remarkably firm and supple paw. She also whines and whinges and whimpers; there is simply no ignoring her. I’m glad of it, it forces me to maintain routines and so on. I wasn’t a morning person till I met the mutt. Instant upgrade from therapy to service dog.

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If only they could talk, they’d say “I want a walk!” People say if only they could talk quite often and I’ve always been wishful and wistful about the notion, until a friend remarked that actually it’d be a total pain in the arse, because dogs would follow us around saying things like give me food take me for a walk scratch my tummy oh look a rabbit incessantly. Dogs are eloquent enough and like most dogs, mine does a lot of her nagging sitting gazing at me adoringly while using jedi mind tricks to get her way. If she wasn’t beautifully obedient 90% of the time, she’d be unbearable. She’s so … dogged about things. BaDUM-tshhhh!

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My dog’s dearest and most desperate desire is to catch a bird. Her hunting style is sight hound – she uses her eyes far more than her nose. On the beach, she barks joyously and races after gulls, cormorants and oystercatchers. They say oh thanks for the warning bark, now we will escape even faster than usual and off they zoom. Dog goes home to stalk frogs and catch beetles.

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Bless her sweet little heart, she is the security department round here and she takes her job very seriously. It didn’t take too long to teach her not to woof raucously at every single thing that dares to stroll anywhere near the fence, but she still has her say. She barks under her breath, with a boef sound and a puffing out of both cheeks. I am completely safe from passers by, tractors, cats and I am especially safe from motorcycles, because according to her, they are seriously evil and certainly not to be trusted.

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I don’t think that one needs discussion?

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My dog is, of course, what all good dogs are to decent owners. Friend, companion, entertainment, loyal and devoted. Like most dogs, she asks for so little – 20 walks a day, 30 meals, a couple of comfortable couches, some toys and a reasonably sized country to dominate.

Yes, I am a childless old bat and no, I do not get out much.

Manxiety, Dr. Sweetheart, and Karma

It’s official. Not only do I have panxiety (paranoid anxiety) I also apparently have Manic anxiety disorder (manxiety.)

The new doc thing was terrifying. I got there wayyy early. I read a magazine, remembered nothing, reread the same things over and over. I was sweating and emitting that stagnant stress smell. Heart pounding, mind spinning, yet completely downhearted and exhausted. Ya know, where you bury your head in your hands and try not to yank out clumps of your own hair.
I was weighed. Yeah, if you weren’t already depressed being told you gained 15 pounds in spite of cutting out soda and eating one meal a day…Hate that part. And my blood pressure was higher than norm. I was FREAKING OUT, ffs. Of course, it’s gonna be elevated. The nurse said, “Oh, he’s a sweetheart, you’re gonna love him.”

I’m not sure I love him but…I didn’t hate him. He was…OPEN. He listened. He said I was manic, I tried to explain I just get high strung and panicky like that for appointments…I don’t think he bought it even if it’s factoid. He declared me manic as well as ADHD.
Then I broached the whole focus/Focalin issue and he said he had no problem prescribing Focalin because obviously, I am ADD.
HUHHHH????
For years now I’ve been told I’m just anxiety ridden and finally a doctor sees that I actually have this attention deficit thing and it’s not in my head????
He said a large percentage of bipolar patients do have an attention deficit, with or without hyperactivity, even if insurance companies seem to think ADD or ADHD ends when one turns 18.
I was in his office about twenty minutes. He heard me out, told me his stance, and we just discussed it rather than him handing down edicts. I agreed with him the prozac should be lowered, split into two doses even if the half life should last longer than it does for me. He actually said everyone reacts differently instead of making me feel like a loser for not being one size fits all.
It was mind boggling.
He did consult the old files, but only after talking to me. I guess he was seeing if my story meshed with the record. I flat out told him that I have seen so many doctors and counselors, all with differing ideas, that I am flat out confused aside from the bipolar two and anxiety disorder diagnoses.
He didn’t make me feel like a leper for being honest.
He prescribed 5mg Focalin without a fuss, said he could see why I’d need it and he was trusting me not to abuse it. Considering insurance won’t pay and it’s an extra sixty bucks out of my disability check which barely provides shelter and heat…I wouldn’t be asking if it hadn’t helped in the past. Trying to find the money is stressful but it’s also…hope.
I wasn’t really manic, I was just fucking nervous.
But he perceived it as mania and hyperactivity so at least he saw that there IS something rotten in the state of Denmark. He’s the first doctor in 7 years who saw the attention deficit for something other than anxiety. He gets points for that. As well as for blunt honesty. He asked on the way out if I had any questions, and I said, “No, you answered them all and I am shocked you listened to me.”
He said, “That’s what you pay me for.”
I respect honesty even if it stings.
I also asked him if he, too, was going to rotate out in 2 years like all the other doctors there and he said that he and the hospital were contracting together for five years, minimum, trying to turn the center into a large scale care place as well as a ward at the hospital that hasn’t had one in dozens of years.
That…made me hopeful.
So…Prozac back to 20mg twice a day and 5mg Focalin twice a day. Excellent, Smithers. He wasn’t so much a sweetheart as a…a…PROFESSIONAL. It blew my mind.

EXCEPT…
First off, it’s gonna be sixty bucks a month out of my limited budget which is OUCH!
Second, my pharmacy won’t have that dose in until Monday. I told them I’d wait because truth be told, I’d rather keep all my scripts at the same place so any possibility of interaction can be spotted. So I said I’d wait and I’ve spent the evening crunching numbers, debating what I can skimp by on to afford this medication.
Nothing is ever perfect. I think given the right speech, I could probably sell my soul to R so he’d shell out the lump sixty bucks I can’t. I THINK. You never know because people will promise to help you then the next day ask why you needed the help. (Viva drunk friends.)

My kid is at my mom’s so I have had the day to myself, after the appointment hell ended. I’ve done…Um…Dishes. Cat boxes. One load of laundry, though five baskets remain unfolded…I bought myself a tv dinner for supper. I called my mom’s to check on my spawn and they all started spazzing that it was some sort of emergency. Because ya know, I couldn’t simply miss my daughter.
And I am only allowing this sleepover for her benefit. My mom and sister have kind of pissed me off good. For my sister’s birthday, they had NO food for a week so our dad and stepmom spent a hundred bucks buying them food. Which they proceeded to share with and feed to about 9 people who aren’t family.’
Today, my sis and mom show me how they’ve spent over a hundred bucks on my kid’s Easter baskets as well as a frilly dress and Frozen tennish shoes. I dared to say, “Thirty bucks for shoes she’ll outgrow in a month is dumb” and got fucking verbally jumped.
Apparently I don’t want my kid to be happy because I won’t blow all the money on crap and let her starve for two weeks.
This is just how it is with my mom and sister. They’re all about fun and frivolity whereas I am more like dad in practical terms. It’s never ceased to be a bone of contention. Toss in that I look like my dad, well, mom’s never really forgiven me, like it was some choice on my part.

Now…Karma.
I get a night to myself, Mother Nature (the bitch) gives me cramps from hell. I want to do nothing and be around no one.
I reconnect with someone I think is worthwhile except they’re too far gone to be reached.
I look back at all my blog posts and realize…MY GOD I WRITE LONG POSTS AND I AM AMAZED ANYONE HAS THE PATIENCE TO WADE THROUGH THEM.
I am sooo hoping the Focalin helps with this.
I soo need a federal loan to afford it. (sad ain’t it.)

So that’s the good, bad, ugly, and karmic.