It’s 8:22 a.m. and already I’ve nearly had a car wreck. Awesome. It was one of those alignment of the evil stars, moon, sun things. Just as I had to take my kid to school, my histamines kicked in and convinced me every inch of skin was itching. Then my sinus meds wore off from yesterday and BAM, I got hit with seepy eyes and drainage. Early morning sunlight, yapping child, flip flop caught on the pedals and…Had to slam on the brakes hard cos I nearly pulled out in front of a mini van. Nothing like that to get your early morning panic going. Least my brakes are good. I still want the legal right to muzzle my child in the car, she is far more dangerous a distraction than eating, texting, smoking, and juggling flaming torches while driving.
So aside from the sinus misery (took more meds, hope they kick in soon) I think I may not murder anyone today. That is, of course, a joke. I never murder anyone on days ending in D-A-Y. I just sew them together as a human centipede…
It’s gonna be like this, me all weird, as I am out of Cymbalta and Focalin and waiting to hear if my mom is gonna pay back the $20 she owes me or if I am gonna have to be weird(er) until Thursday. I got my monthly statement from my Medicare script plan yesterday and I had NO idea just how expensive my treatment is for one month. I assumed since all my meds are generic that maybe at most it was eighty a month. Ha. More like $386. Given I am on five different meds but my god, even as generics, what kind of job would I need to afford that every month? Plus the $150 for a ten minute med check…Mental illness is trash. Expensive trash.
Could be worse. Could be the over $700 a month for that damn Laduma. Latarda. Latuda. Whatever. That shit was toxic, I may as well have sucked on arsenic cubes.
See, this is me, this is who I am. I have a tiny copay on my meds and insurance handles it all basically and yet I am still fretting over being too much of an expense. I blame my father, he’d have had us born in a barn with a cow doctor delivering us if it would have saved him a buck. (Though considering I saw Dr Chihuahua, could the cow doc be any worse?)
Ok, sinus drainage is ass trash. I made it 42 years without a sinus issue now I am suddenly the queen of drainage, wtf. Just a tiny break, here, life, please? For the love of satanic pegacorns, cut me a break!
There was another showdown with Spook last night over bedtime. She went bonkers so I called my stepmonster who normally scares the hell out of that kid. I put it on speaker phone so she could hear what I have to deal with. And not even she could talk the child into submission, Spook kept screaming at her, too. It’s not that I am out to vilify my child, at all. But it does get old when people assume I am dramatizing because I am somehow rendered “fragile” by my mental issues. There’s no dramatizing here, I am raising a little version of possessed Linda Blair. When she just kept screaming, I got off the phone and just left in her room screaming. After a half hour, she went to sleep. This morning…like another kid entirely, as if nothing had happened. Shades of chemical imbalance, no?
I guess that’s about it on that personal front, for now. Day is young and R wants me to pop by the shop to show him how to order business cards (yeah, he has a degree and I have a GED, who should be showing who computer shit?) so I may have a brain bleed yet and spew some more.
I’d like to take this time to step aside from my mental stuff and ranting and say thank you to all who have donated- money, good wishes, reposts, their time doing these things- every tiny thing you wonderful amazing people have done in an effort to help our Abby Cat get treated by a vet. $55 has been raised thus far and though the goal was set at $300, I am hoping I can raise even a fraction. If I can get enough to pay for the visit, flea dip, and antibiotic, I may be able to work out a payment plan with the vet for all the rest since my cats have been going to him for over twenty years. It’s my hope, anyway.
Abby slept on my pillow all night and I kept waking up, rubbing her fur, making sure she hadn’t stopped breathing. Because, okay, mom to kid or cats, I am a neurotic helicopter. This morning when we got up, Abby followed us, making a beeline right for the food dishes. Considering Sunday all she could do was curl up by the sun at the door, no eat, no drink, barely able to open her eyes…I think my tending to her abscess helped considerably. That little cat has so much fight in her, I am envious. She wins the spork of fortitude times ten. Now that she has eaten, drank, and groomed, she is napping on what has become “her” table.
Thanks again, everyone, for showing this pessimistic cynic that there are good people out there. I was wr…wro….wroo…Ya know, that w-r-o-n-g word about everyone being a jerk. Sincerest thanks to all who have helped- be it money, your time to repost this, or even sending well wishes for Abs…YOU GUYS ROCK!
Save Abby fund is here and by all means, use social media to pass it around. I have no dignity when it comes to my kid or cats ;)
Absinthe, The Great