I got a little bit more information on what happened last night verses why Dennis refused to go to the hospital.
It turns out that he took the wrong medication and was having a severe side-effect from it. It was bad enough that he couldn’t function properly, but not bad enough for him to go in the hospital over. Good lord. I had a nice, big, fat needle of epinephrine waiting for when he stopped breathing. Needles seem to cure all of his ailments. But the whole thing still made me pretty mad.
After the fighting today, I set my mind to getting other things done, and guess what? I finished everything on my list! I even had a couple of extra things I had to do that miraculously got done! Of course, it was liberating tearing the sheets off the bed and throwing them in the trash. I hated those sheets. They’re over a decade old, but they’re falling apart. Didn’t I spend $500 on new sheet sets back in March? What’s the point of buying new stuff if you’re not going to throw out the old?
Oh, and yes, all is beginning to be forgiven.
My husband may or may not need to go to the hospital this evening.
Hopefully I’ll be able get my hands on a computer and keep everyone updated.
Warm thoughts?
Surviving
I am lethargic. Tired. Worn out. I still have a good nine pages of paper work to finish before tomorrow and I have to re-do the work schedule through May. Sucks to be me, the one who takes home her paper work to finish. There are such nice distractions at home. A comfy bed. A soothing bath. Kids screaming in the other room. I keep reaching for tomorrow, because tomorrow will make it all worth while.
So if you’ve noticed that my comments are short, sweet, to the point, or just plain missing, that is why. I’ve tried to perk myself up with coffee, tea, a bread stick. Nothing works. I am forever in Zombie mode today.
Add that to the fact that my phone is in the shop because I cannot get a signal on it, and it drops the calls that do get through, I’m just plain tired. I had better not be this tired come tomorrow.
There might be some other excitement tomorrow: Today is Chloe’s first day of school. She was not very happy about it, at all. 
The Crazy House
I’m back! Who missed me? C’mon! I know someone missed me.
I don’t feel as though I was in a “crazy house” than I was at a weekend seminar. The place wasn’t amazing, but it was nothing like the psychiatric wards you see in the media, particularly One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. There were no pajamas, no scrubs on the patients, we were mostly free range women with our own little hotel-like rooms, some had seedling gardens, some worked on art, we ate breakfast and dinner together with our psychiatrists and the nurses, we weren’t lined up for meds, there were no bars on the windows, and there were no locked doors from room to room. I’m sure the ward was locked, but I didn’t try to escape. None of the patients tried to escape. Most of the people there were there voluntarily. I was there for observations, and exercises in psycho-social situations.
The seven areas where I was observed and worked in were:
Empathy
Kindness
Respect
Tolerance
Self-control
Social-consciousness
Joy
Joy is the ultimate goal of the entire program. It means just what you think it means: Happiness based on balance of the other psycho-social situations.
Patients were expected to get dressed in normal clothes every day, engage in conversations at meal times, and interact with other patients, nurses and doctors. I had two major psychologists: Mary and Corey. Corey being an ex-highschool classmate of my father’s.
I was thoroughly evaluated, observed, and found not a threat to myself or others. Corey was more concerned about my chronic physical pain. He feels that is the reason I am depressed. Loss of quality of life would make anyone depressed. My physical pain has taken away so much in my life. I cannot do certain things anymore because I am limited by excruciating pain. My physician thinks that I am faking this pain for sympathy from him. He also thinks I want him, sexually. Of course. All women want him. That’s why they go to him, huh? To get pumped full of pills that cause organ failure and near-fatal car accidents.
I just hope these evaluations enable me to get on some form of medical insurance so I can get a new doctor.
I am happy to be home. I am happy to be with my family again. Hell, I’m even happy to be going back to work tomorrow.
Life is a wonderful thing.
I’ll be home on the morning of Monday August 9th.
See you then. Be good to Matt while I’m away.
Oh How I Wish Tomorrow Would Never Come
Tomorrow morning, I go in for the “evaluations”. Then stay 72 hours, not counting Sunday, for observations. I wonder how many more people are going to abandon me or jump ship rather than see if we can make it to the rocky shore?
Believe me, if this was not mandatory, I would not be going.
Right now, I’m watching the blackened trees play amongst the purple skies, with no care in the world, and I long to have that release. I want to be released where I am no longer sick or looked down upon for being sick. That’s not going to happen, is it?
Matt is going to keep things up to par here. See you once again on the 10th or 11th.
There Is No Sunday
One of the things that seems appropriate about the coming week is my 72 hour involuntary psych evaluation. That’s what I get for going to see my doctor a week ago! Thoughts keep turning round in my mind. Maybe I’m nuts after all.
In short, the recent drama that has plagued me has nothing to do with this situation. Maybe I am having a mid-life crisis, and that’s why I woke up in a stranger’s bed for four days in a row last week? But whatever has caused this has nothing to do with anything that has transcribed over the T1 lines. Although the harassment that I have been the victim of did not help.
I will be gone from August 6, 2010 through August 10, 2010. I know that’s more than 72 hours, but when you’re locked in the asylum, there is no Sunday. Think happy thoughts for me. I just want to be well.
Morning Blues
In case anyone was wondering, this is what was hurting me yesterday/is still hurting me today:
See those teeth? They were cracked last week when I was hit in the face with the text book that fell out of my closet. The dentist told me that I could tell him “what really hit me in the face” and if it was “really a text book or a fist” but I’m sticking to my text book story. In the long run, the text book can’t deprive me of things I need, should this get any worse.
I’m on Vicodin, antibiotics, and I can’t eat. The pain is just that bad. I need several root canals to fix the problem, but I just can’t get them done yet. I’m already taking double the pain medication, and I’m already building up a tolerance to it. I’ve taken double the dose today, and I’m going to try to go to work like this. It should make for an interesting day.
Taking the morning meds caused a lot of pain, even though I took them with room-temperature water:
Think that’s enough pills? That’s not even all of them. I’m missing two of my prescriptions and I doubt that I will be getting them any time soon because we have all this drama to go through. I imagine with the pain I’m having, and the lack of a blood pressure pill, my blood pressure is back up to 300/250. Yes, it gets that high.
Dennis is repeating things the LOLCow has said to me. Apparently, he was listening in on part of my phone conversation yesterday, and he went apeshit over OMG, me talking about things that apparently happened “years ago”, despite the LOLCow making the same pathetic threats that all the other losers eventually make (calling the JAG on me, and so fourth). It was amusing this morning when my alarm went off; it’s a ring tone that’s like an old phone ringer. He ran over to the phone to see who was calling me at this hour, and the joke was on him: It was just a ring tone. Still, to end some of the drama, I deleted the alarm. Is it wrong that I just want this to all be over?
Oh, and I’m a shitty mother. I told my autistic eight year old step son not to be horrible this morning because he was singing at the top of his lungs, and now he won’t talk again. It’s going to be one of those days. Why haven’t the narcotics kicked in yet?
Jamie aka: The being known as Wonder Girl, 30, mother of four, wife to one, she is a senior biomedicine student who is learning to fit in in the world around her. After nearly three decades on this planet, she still doesn't know where she belongs. Best friend of Matt, sarcastic, spoiled, apathetic, kutie brat, babe. Just your average woman, living in a not-so-average world, surviving by her incredible super power of being able to see right through you while
accomplishing more tasks than you ever thought imaginable. She is the being known as Wonder Girl and she is speaking, I believe. More? Aren't you brave!
