So I turned down the radio (Taylor Swift) and said, “This is a hard weekend for me.”
She looked up. “Why?”
She looked up. “Why?”
She looked up. “Why?”
Emanuel Swedenborg (1688-1772):
He said; “All religion relates to life, and the life of religion is to do good”
I’m very sleepy today. The small one has a sinus infection and is home for the day. We’ve been to the doctor and the grocery story and the drug store. Have more errands to run this afternoon. I finally got a 20 -Oz. Coke and maybe will wake up eventually.
Have a paper due this Sunday and am due to be peer reviewed this week for a project. So it will be interesting. I have a lot of the paper formed in my head, I just need to write it down. So that is my job this week. Then give all my residency books to the library. I wish there were some I wanted to keep, but there just aren’t. ANyway.
Bob is going out of town not this weekend but next. He’s going to the Grand Ole Opry and staying at the Grand Ole Opry Hotel. He says he wants to sleep late and read. I think we are going to go see my parents while he is gone. I’ll talk to Mom and se if she is amenable to that. add
I need to get some more projects going for my New Media class, We’re soon going to be at the deadline to turn it all in. I have to finish my hypertext project, put music to my electronic poem, put text to my trailer, finish my geopoems, and an extended work up of an image and text project So I have a lot of partial things done but nothing quite finished.
Hope everyone has a good week!
I find it baffling that I go in to have my head shrunk but all I walk out with is shriveled self esteem. I am sure it’s not his intention, but DAMN. Apparently I have some sort of tic with my mouth I’ve never noticed nor has anyone around me but the man who hasn’t seen me in two months immediately launches into…There’s a new drug coming to market in a couple of years that can undo tardive dyskenisia. Yay. One more thing I didn’t know I had but after four years on Seroquel, can’t say it’s a shocker. One would have thought it’d have been noticed ya know, ten years ago when I was actually on that toxin.
I was not in good shape this morning. My nose is beat red from spending all night tied to a tissue box cos the allergies are rioting and making me cough, sneeze, choke, and drain. I did the sane thing when the store opened today- I got some medication. As it happens, that causes my blood pressure to rise the nurse and doctor were a little freaked out. I can’t even get relief from this shit without it being an issue.
I told him all about the last two months. Dead cats, burned houses, daily triggers picking up my kid amongst lollapetridishapazlooza.
His ideas? Can you move to another home where she’d be eligible for the bus? Can you have someone else pick her up? Hey, they’re about to close down the charter school but in the event they don’t you can stick her in there and she can ride the bus. Except the charter school is even closer to us and only accepts 4th grade and above HELLLOOOOOO? Not that I can counter his suggestions with facts because that would be non compliance.
I asked him about Lamicatal causing memory problems. He said absolutely not. I asked if maybe after four years I need to reboot with a different mood stabilizer cos the anti depressants are mixing well anymore… He vetoed that, said as long as I am not manic, the Lamictal is fine.
I asked about valium, just to lull me into relaxation at night. He nixed that and increased the Restoril which does fuck all.
His brilliant insight was to increase the prozac from 10mg to 20mg, advise me to get my kid into counseling, and oh, move or whatever cos this daily pick up stress for the next few years is not going to enable me to get well.
Brilliant fucking sage. Yes, Let me pull the money out of my cleavage to move houses so my kid can take the fucking bus. OR what if my doctor would just write up a note asking the school to let me fetch her in a less crowded spot? Oh, that would be logical. Forget that.
I was also treated to the ever popular (gee being reminded never gets old) “You’ve improved only once in the entire time I’ve seen you, there must be something with your metabolism that keeps the medications from working properly.)
And there it is. MY fault. It was quantified with him stating he can’t recall having a patient who was this med resistant and this anxiety riddled. Enter the deflation of what little self esteem I have and those shreds of hope that were buried in there somewhere? Nope. All gone now.
Instead of feeling a bit better I just feel more defeated and like a loser.
Which technically, I guess I felt before I went in cos it was a hellish choking on drainage night, but the doctor…did not help, at all. He tried to be empathetic, I can feel that. The words were right. I’m just not convinced his sincerity behind them was real. Once again, I am reduced to feeling like a petulant child who “doesn’t want to get better”.
Maybe the increase in Prozac and Restoril helps. I don’t see it helping a whole lot. Now if life would just slow to a halt for awhile and let my get my feet under me, I might stand a chance. Unfortunately, tis not the way it works. I have to remain standing and walk a perfectly straight line amidst a 10.0 earthquake every single day. I don’t think anyone around me knows how exhausting it is. No, because whatever I have going on, they have it worse. My father is the kind who’d claim his backache trumps you having a knife embedded in your skull. So no support there…Doc suggest I ask my family to take Spook for a couple of days so I could get some me time. AFTER I explained how nasty my dad is “we have a life of our own, we can’t drop everything to take care of your kid” and how I have to spend a whole day getting my kid out of my mother’s “there are no rules, I am a queen and can treat you like shit” mind frame.
For me it’s the equivalent of being handed a Xanax coated in barb wire. “Once you get it down, you’ll be all calm.”
Except I’ll be bleeding internally and have to go get help so HOW THE FUCK DOES IT HELP ME IN THE END????
Meh. I need fiction soup for the soul for an hour or so. Then I’ll work on turning biohazard four maybe down to a two.
Or I may say fuck it because apparently, even my own doctor thinks I am fairly doomed.