Never Underestimate The Pain

2015-12-09 Miss Poison December, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Bruised, Change, Comfort Zones, December, Depression, Fibromyalgia, Moving, Moving Forward, Moving On, Musings, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

thepainofaperson

My physical, mental, & emotional agony trump a lot of other things at the moment. I’m, quite possibly, not clear-headed enough to write this properly, so please, bear with me. I’ll correct anything that I post that needs to be fixed later on.

I sit here terribly sleep-deprived, covered in varying degrees of bruises (some are healing, some are fresh), and my physical pain is worse than I ever imagined possible. And yet, none of it compares to what’s going on inside my head. 😦 For the past week, I have been pushed way beyond my limits and comfort zone. On the plus side; I’ve walked away from some very negative things that were causing me severe physical, mental, and emotional illness that I wasn’t even aware was happening until that final step away, when I took my first clean, stress-free breath and realized I hadn’t felt free in years. On the downside; the move I was trying to put off in order to take care of Patient X until he is fully healed is coming up sooner than I thought possible.

As of this past Monday, 95% of my stuff is in storage. My temporary “safe place” is a hotel; the only pet-friendly one I could find. The room is fantastic, but the walls are closing in on me. Again, I’m stressed and sleep-deprived. This morning I felt so weak, I went back to sleep, something I’m trying in earnest NOT to do because it exacerbates my insomnia.

Patient X’s first post-op appointment went surprisingly well. He is healing properly, mostly due to the fact that I’m OCD and constantly repeating myself so that he’ll listen at least one time out of ten. Unfortunately, his “young pain receptors” are having trouble with the really painful aspects of such a complicated and delicate surgery, so his pain medication was changed at yesterday’s appointment. I’m not thrilled with the choice, but so far, it is working.

I went to three different pharmacies for this drug and when I finally found one willing to fill it, they damn near told me to go back to Philly and fill it there. It is the store’s policy that certain drugs be filled “closer to the prescribing hospital”, as if people have a choice as to where they’re operated on or not! They were willing to do it this time because I’d called in advance, which apparently made them nervous (I think they called security several times, an absolute FIRST, and I’m a pain patient, so I was floored.). I’m not about to apologize for calling with a legitimate question. Lord knows I showed up less than ten minutes after calling with the script, the patient, and his driver’s license to prove it wasn’t being sold on the street. They weren’t going to fill it until they realized he’s A) wearing a Life Vest and B) talked with him about why it was prescribed. Not cool Walgreens, not cool AT ALL, especially in light of the medication you filled without batting an eye for several patients who showed up after me, one of which is something I feel should be outlawed, but I’m not judging the fact that people need it.

Walmart & Target: you should both carry this drug that I desperately needed to acquire immediately, even if only in small quantities. Post-op patients need access to pain medicine that their surgeons prescribe. It’s completely unacceptable to tell them you can order it “in a week”. What are they supposed to do in that week? Hang around with a thumb up their ass?! NO ONE should be forced to suffer because you’ve decided not to carry medication legally prescribed by a physician. By doing shit like that, you’re trying to override a doctor’s right to prescribe and you don’t have the authority to do so. I was so annoyed by the time the medication was paid for that I damn near flipped my lid, and I can only partially blame that on low blood sugar.

Sunday is “moving day”. Some of my clothes & electronics, Cat, Kitten, and I are moving nearly five hours up north. Life as I know it is changing drastically, and I am not happy about the “rug pulled out from beneath my feet” feeling. Yes, I will adapt and yes, I will adjust. I will pull myself together and dust myself off over these next few weeks/months, mainly because stress can do horrible things to the body, mind, and soul. Someone told me on Monday that if I don’t take care of myself, I could do irreparable damage. She herself was so stressed around this time last year that she had to re-learn how to walk. I don’t want to reach that level of stress, so I need to get on the self-care diet of putting myself first for a few hours every single day.

Once I move, there will be a period of time where I will have to back-date things I write for this platform because I am not 100% sure when I’ll have Internet access, however, things will be written & posted as soon as humanly possible. Let’s hope the wait isn’t too long, lest I lose my marbles. There is such a thing as “too much silence” after a big move. The only books I have are on my Kindle Fire (every book I own is sadly, in storage. My poor babies!), and all of my music is packed, so I will be living off of what’s saved on my laptop and phone until I’m back for good. You simply never know when I will need to listen to Taylor Swift on a loop and cry.

I will miss all of you during “the dark period”, but know that I’ll be back the second the technician plugs everything in. I’ll be in touch before I leave. Be sure to check my Twitter feed and for those that need to know, my cell # and e-mail address will not be changing.

Laters, peeps!

Insomnia & Painsomnia: A Wicked Combination

2015-12-01 Miss Poison Being Real, Chronic Pain, December, Empathy, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Acupuncture, Botox, Chronic Pain, Cures, Daith Piercings, December, Fibromyalgia, Health, Honesty, Insomnia, Men, Migraine Treatment, Migraines, Musings, Pain Thresholds, Painsomnia, Pieces Of Me, Piercings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sleep, Tattoos, Treatment Methods, Women, Writing

Whenever there’s something stressful going on in my life, it often affects my sleep, thus turning me into a shadow of my former self. Insomniac Lisa and Painsomnia Lisa are two very different beasts from the person I am when I’m able to prioritize sleep, and actually get into bed each night at a decent hour. I’m never 100% pain-free, but sleep is a crucial part of how my body recovers from what I do to it each day. I have worked my ass off this past month and lost roughly 20 pounds, somehow managing to strengthen my upper back muscles in the process.

Unfortunately for the past month, my sleep has been insanely erratic. First it was major moving stress, liable to affect even the calmest person in the world, of which I openly admit is not me. Then it was my brother’s pre-hospitalization health, closely followed by getting the phone call that he would need open-heart surgery or a transplant. It’s normal to have things like that affect you on many levels health-wise. Let’s face facts: No one expects someone young to be told that their heart is at 11% capacity. An entire team of doctors and surgeons and two different hospitals told him he was 10-15 years too early for such a severe issue. All of this crap has been screwing with me day and night and thus far, nothing I’ve done is helping. To add insult to injury, I have had a migraine since the day before Thanksgiving. I currently feel as if my head is in its very own torture chamber, taking my body along for the ride. 😦

When my brother was first released from the hospital, my sleep schedule had already shifted due to late-night texting and phone calls when he was still hospitalized and feeling lonely late at night, before his final dose of pain meds took over. There were many times I had to suggest he watch something on TV (“It’s almost 10 PM, here are three shows you can watch tonight. I have GOT to get some sleep!”), and then mute the ringer on my phone as opposed to allowing it to vibrate, so I could go to bed without the phone buzzing for hours. Now he’s here 24/7, and he’s driving me insane.

He’s not doing anything in particular to make me crazy (though I wish he’d remember that his legs are fine and he can get up and pour his own damn drinks!), he just happens to be in my personal space, and I crave privacy and silence. He’s mortified that I disinfected the remote, but since I don’t want him getting sick and he’s using it and I’m using it as well, I figured it was a wise decision. It is cold & flu season and while he is currently not in contact with other people several days a week, I am, and that can pose a problem for him if I bring something into the house that I did not leave with.

The other night he fell asleep while I was talking to him (I wasn’t boring him, he was simply in a lot of pain.). It was super early, but I felt that was the perfect time to cover him with a few extra blankets (It’s cold here most nights, and even when it’s not, he’s complaining that he’s cold.), and sneak off into the silence that is my normal routine. Alas, he got about three hours of sleep and I was wide awake. The second I thought about going to sleep, he was moaning in pain and when I checked on him, he was messaging someone on his tablet, with the TV on lighting up three rooms.

After a highly stressful week, I was finally in bed at a decent hour last night. As soon as I’d dispensed the last pain pill of the day, my head was on the pillow. Unfortunately, the previously aforementioned migraine decided to kick things up a notch and a little after 2:00 a.m., I woke up in unimaginable pain. I have no idea how I am attempting to type this, much less see.

My first line of defense is to attempt to get some caffeine into my system. It’s the only thing I haven’t sought out or used to treat this particular pain level, when it would normally be something I thought about a bit more closely. No, last night I was too far gone, so I took something less targeted that, as a last resort, often helps. Clearly it only helped part of me. 😦 So, I am nursing caffeinated tea and I took two Excedrin Tension Headache capsules. Not because I have a tension headache as opposed to a migraine, I know the difference, but because sometimes that combination works for me and nips the migraine in the bud. It’s not a permanent solution, but nothing really is. If it doesn’t start working in an hour or so, I will take a third.

It astounds people that I have managed to learn how to work through some of my worst migraines, or that I put myself into the head space to focus on healing one. I look at it this way: I am not going out and triggering the headache to be any worse than it already is. I am home, I’m safe, I can control the environment (noise level, light, temperature), and I know not to move around too much, but can I sit at a darkened laptop screen and talk about it? Sometimes, yes. That doesn’t diminish the intensity of the migraine, it does not mean I don’t suffer from migraines (three neurologists and two other doctors are all in agreement that I suffer from migraines. They have gotten worse since my first diagnosis, so there’s nothing else it could be. Everything else has been ruled out.), and it also doesn’t mean it’s “just a headache”. On occasion, like most sufferers, I will get a dull headache. Unfortunately, dull can go to extremes pretty quickly, so I take all headache forms seriously. I don’t walk around denouncing other people’s pain either. If a person says they have a headache, but quickly says “I don’t get migraines like you do.”, I still wouldn’t tell them it was “no big deal”. Pain is pain. No one likes it and for those of us that endure it 24/7, I have seen people empathize with others openly, and I have also seen people blow off the pain of others because they somehow feel it is their right in life to be the one person on the planet who has it far worse than the rest of us. Sorry, but that couldn’t possibly be true, or you’d be dead. What may be indeed true is that everyone’s threshold for pain is different. In fact, I know this to be true.

In studies, it has been determined that women tolerate pain differently from their male counterparts. Not better, not worse, just different. Taking into consideration that the female body can push out a human-being during the process of giving birth, that’s not an immense surprise to me.

All of my heavily tattooed male friends had their jaws on the floor when I sat through my first four tattoos and described the pain as “No worse than a cat scratch.” You see, I chose a spot that most of them found to be extremely painful. They all told me to put my ink somewhere else, that the pain would be too much for me to endure, especially considering I suffer from Fibromyalgia, but I’d consulted with several artists who, like me, believed that my first tattoo should be someplace easily covered up with clothing. However, never to do things the simple way, I got my first four all at the same time. I wouldn’t even rate that a one on my personal pain scale. I’ve had more painful piercings.

As many of you also suffer from migraines, has anyone gotten a Daith piercing to try to combat them? Compared to all the medication, a myriad of supplements that may or may not be useful to the individual, various treatment methods, Botox, acupuncture, etc., the piercing itself, depending on where one goes, is between $50-$100. I am being told that it works for 50% of the people who get it, but I am also being told the relief is temporary, though some people are reporting themselves migraine-free 3-7 years post-piercing. I have decided to try acupuncture for a year to see if that spot along either of my ears responds to treatment. My insurance covers it, which is rare, so I am going to take the opportunity to use it first. I’m not sure I need another hole in my head, but I’d be interested in hearing whether or not the piercing has helped anyone. If you’re considering getting this particular piercing, please go somewhere highly reputable and have someone experienced do the piercing itself. The report of infection with this spot is very high, and I’d hate for anyone to go through that. I’ve only had three piercings in my life that gave me problems. Luckily they never got infected, but two of them bled for years if someone hugged me too hard, and the third still gives me problems on occasion (The fact that I share the piercing with a highly toxic person is probably why… I’m a big believer in energy. Sometimes we are healthier overall without certain people in our lives.). While most piercings are mainly decorative, there is no medical or scientific evidence that a Daith piercing is a cure for migraines, so don’t read into all of the Pinterest and Instagram “science”. Those are exclusively individual experiences, most of which are brand new. There’s no way of knowing what the long-term effects may be. For many, it is worth it for temporary relief. I’d rather explore a few additional options first.

Are there any alternative treatment methods that work best for your migraines? If so, what are they?

The day insomnia can be cured in any way, shape, or form, I will be on a line for that! Right next to the line for the great Fibro/Chronic Pain cure. Here’s hoping we see it in this lifetime.

Struggling

2015-11-262015-11-26 Miss Poison Honesty, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Doctors, Honesty, Insomnia, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pain Management, Patient X, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Thanksgiving, Writing

It is the early morning hours of Thanksgiving Day here in the States. After spending hours preparing stuffing yesterday (which I highly suspect might suck today), I ended up with a highly stressful day which resulted in a migraine. That then turned into insomnia, which is the only reason I am awake at such an hour. Turns out, Patient X is not the only one in pain. 😦 Poor kid.

Lucky for him, he has a sister/maid who will go back to the hospital tomorrow to pick up a prescription and take it to the pharmacy on Black Friday, a day I avoid like the fucking plague because of the insanity that ensues, all because his doctor did not see fit to prescribe the appropriate amount of pain medication upon discharge. I thought it was an incredibly odd number seeing as how he’s supposed to take twelve pills a day until he’s healed enough to not be in such severe pain. He is healing, the swelling and bruising are almost fully gone, but he’s still in an incredible amount of pain. I couldn’t stand by as if it weren’t happened as the pills diminished.

I realize there are always pre-holiday emergencies, but it shouldn’t take a doctor’s office nearly twelve hours to return two phone calls where the words “pain management” are used. I find that unacceptable.

Moreover, not being able to call a prescription in to the pharmacy in an emergency simply because it is a controlled substance, even if it means faxing a hard copy from your office or sending the hard copy via FedEx, is a major time and energy drain on caregivers. I realize doctors and PAs are busy covering their own asses on this shit, that patients do NOT come first, but it makes me angry that my brother is in severe pain and that I, in my agony, have no choice but to schlep somewhere I don’t want to be in order to get the appropriate medication for him. It should have been done correctly the first time, except now, I am going to be fully present and since his voice still isn’t better, they’re going to have to put up with mine, and oh, how loud can I go?!

The physician’s assistant was the epitome of rude, dismissive, and unprofessional (I’d like to think she’s just stupid and/or had a stressful day that she would have preferred to be spending somewhere else with family, but I was then informed that she’s always like that, so I knew it wasn’t simply my perception.) and proceeded to lecture me on post-op appointment scheduling. Excuse me; I’m NOT his secretary. I was not handed the discharge papers, so outside of dispensing medication and doing a plethora of other things that contribute to my misery, I am also supposed to be a mind-reader. News flash: There’s no such thing as mind-readers. Also, the job of physician’s assistant to a surgeon is basically glorified prescription pad, especially when you don’t know how to communicate with people as if they’re human-beings. Instead of wasting time acquiring healthcare experience before entering the three year program, I strongly suggest going to medical school and then try giving me attitude. I get to say this because it’s the truth. If you happen to be a PA and you’re reading this, I can only hope you treat people the way you’d want to be treated and don’t hang up on people mid-sentence. When you work with the public in any form, it is crucial to be courteous and respectful. For the record, I said nothing to warrant the ‘tude. If anything, I was overly polite and respectful. I won’t make that mistake again.

Is it convenient that they only see patients on Tuesdays? No. Instead of being able to enjoy some semblance of a holiday weekend this snit tells me to “call on Friday to get him into the office on the 1st”. Because apparently, Lisa has no life of her own and can drop everything on Tuesday so as to miss her own doctor’s appointment. I would like to know precisely when I entered a life of servitude. I wonder if there’s a uniform…

At this point I can only assume I am over-tired, hungry, feeling the effects of the Full Moon (If anyone else saw it rise last night, was it uncharacteristically enormous?), and/or in desperate need of hitting something. It might very well be a combination of all of the above. I can deal with that because it’s honest.

However, to add insult to injury, Patient X is running a fever and might very well need to return to the hospital tomorrow to be certain he does not have another post-op infection. If he does have another infection (which would be lucky number three), I will be on the 10 o’clock news in the Philadelphia area demanding that this hospital be investigated.

I wish I were able to set aside real life and focus solely on fiction (it’s a far better world on paper, as is often the case), but sometimes a writer has to be supremely real and not gloss the serious shit over. I may not currently be writing about NaNoWriMo, WIP’s, my experience editing this or that, or spewing nonsense, but at the beginning and end, I’m going to be real. I’d rather be respected for that side of me than have someone fuss over something completely unimportant.

There’s no rest for the wicked. Only the good die young, so I’m going to be here forever!

Wishing everyone stateside & all members of our Armed Forces a Happy Thanksgiving. To everyone else in this world; have an amazing Thursday where your priorities in life supersede all the bullshit.

My Apologies

2015-11-232015-11-24 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Fibromyalgia, Heart Health, Honesty, Life, Life Vest, Migraines, My Brother, Pain, Patient X, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Thanksgiving, Writing

Hi everyone! I know this isn’t a typical visiting experience at the moment, but I assure you I am doing my best.

When you’re caring for a post-op heart patient, every single day blends into the one before. I likely wouldn’t know it was Monday if I hadn’t intentionally bypassed Friday and Saturday’s normal routine of running errands, only to overdo it yesterday. I have spent a lot of time putting off every aspect of my life to dispense medication at regular intervals, to pour drinks (apparently I close everything very tightly, who knew?), and coax Patient X to eat a few times a day. These may seem like simple tasks, and they are, but if I leave the room for 45 minutes, sometimes less, I hear a tiny voice asking “Are you hiding from me? Am I making you sick?” That’s if I listen for it.

The fact of the matter is: I like silence and privacy. In fact, I crave these things. I don’t like being up ’til 3:00 a.m. unless it is my choice to do so. I don’t like sitting on the couch for 4-8 hours a day in order to keep someone entertained, because while the TV is clearly on in order to “entertain”, I can’t watch anything I truly want to see (I spent an hour in my room late Saturday night watching an episode of a show that ends in a few weeks because I can’t do so downstairs; some asshole didn’t want to see it and despite the fact that it’s my remote, it’s not worth it.). I find myself looking down at my phone a LOT, and no matter what I do to try to be in bed by 10:30 each night, I cannot sleep.

If you have any experience with a cardiac life-saving device called “Life Vest”, you know that this device can go off for any reason, even while changing the battery. Thursday morning the piercing sound threw me out of bed in its utter alarm, and I went flying down the stairs to make sure he was alive and conscious. He later told me I shouldn’t have panicked; the device has a 100% success rate at reviving someone if anything should go wrong. It’s intended purpose is to shock you back to life if need be, and it can probably be heard down the street. Mind you, from the second they put it on him, he has complained that it’s the equivalent of a “male bra”. It does sort of look like a sports bra and it looks uncomfortable because there’s so much to it, so I’ve had to listen to it go off several times over the last week. I tried sleeping through it Friday morning, as it was still dark. Saturday it went off in the early evening hours, but it was still annoying as all hell to hear the sound out of nowhere. Not as annoying as someone dying in my presence (No thanks, I’ll pass.), but it’s simply that noise itself does not agree with this chronic sufferer of migraines.

Certain types of noise are triggers and unfortunately, I never know what will cause a migraine. I only recently switched up my medication, but I did have a very long stretch over the last few weeks where one migraine lasted over a week. I had no choice but to ride it out. 😦

Today, I hurt from my neck to my toes. There’s not a part of my body that doesn’t feel bruised and battered. Okay, there are a few parts that are okay, but that’s about it.

Thanksgiving in the U.S. is this Thursday. In my last-minute prep attempt, I decided what to make and bought everything yesterday. I am grateful that no one in their right mind thinks it’s acceptable for me to make an entire turkey for two people. I cannot fathom tackling that at the moment. Every turkey I so much as glanced at was over 20 pounds, but since they were frozen solid on top of that, who knows how much they actually weighed. I found something small that will fit the bill. I don’t expect it to last more than two days, which is perfect. Wednesday I will make the stuffing in advance (Let’s face it, I will be eating stuffing Wednesday night. I am addicted.) so that I don’t have to cook for hours on Thursday. Patient X is on a little-to-no salt, low-fat diet. I’ve already broken multiple health rules in order to get him to eat. I’m making a small amount for him with as little sodium as possible. He has told me for nearly a week now that everything I’ve made is “full of flavor”. Apparently that is the component missing in all hospital food. I can safely make sure that the rest of the stuffing actually tastes like something though (Yay!). I’m contemplating a citrus base for the main course. If only I had known in advance that I’d have a sudden craving for mashed potatoes, I would have also put that into consideration because apparently this is a carb kind of week. I still might make them, at the last-minute, providing I have a medication run to use as an “excuse” to do it. As things stand now, I might very well need to get another pie too. While completely unnecessary, it does make Patient X happy. Personally I don’t want vegetables made into pie, but perhaps that’s the American in me. Pie should be something enjoyable if you’re going to have it at all.

I am exhausted, in a lot of pain, caring for someone I normally can’t tolerate for more than short periods of time, and I still have my real life going on amidst all that. I’ve shelved as much as I can for the remainder of the year, but there is still much to do. The last thing I can even bother to think about at the moment are the truly stupid things in life. Wow, that statement covers so much…perhaps one day I will write about it. Hell, I’m lucky I remembered to pay my bills this month with all that’s going on! 😦

I hate the holiday season. It is a constant reminder that I am alone in this world, that my family is gone, and that those who are still alive (minus a few people) are horrible human-beings.

Despite amazing friends and loved ones, despite the adorable sweetness of Cat and Kitten, the holidays suck for me. I did get some nice gifts in advance of Chanukah (Shout out to my awesome Aunt.) and two belated birthday gifts (Again, my Aunt, but also a fabulous necklace from Sweet Blossom Gifts that I adore. If you’re going to be shopping on-line this year and you want something personalized and unique, I highly recommend them. They have everything from coffee mugs and pillows to jewelry. I can say for a fact that the jewelry is stunning in person and their prices are very reasonable.) that were such a lovely surprise (If you know the name of one of my favorite stores, you know I will be hitting up the post-holiday sale.), but I won’t be gift-giving this year. Things are simply too stressful and I have absolutely no time to do it. I barely know my name, the last place I need to be is a store. I also lack the desire to do anything for anyone over the age of five. Everyone knows they’re in my heart and that I am there for them 24/7. They don’t need expensive gifts to remind them of that fact. Sometimes, people truly just want to be thought of in a positive way. I’d rather someone send me a card and tell me something of value as opposed to forcing themselves into stores and not taking the time to enjoy the season itself. Those are precious moments. Actions are just as important as words.

I am trying, with all of my might, to get through the remainder of the year with my head firmly on my shoulders. Patient X has a long road to recovery (If one more person tells me he will be chopping tress down in six months, I will hit them. For starters, he’s never chopped a tree in his life, so I highly doubt he’s going to take that up once he’s healed.) and while he is indeed healing (there’s been remarkable improvement this week), he is also weak and will definitely require physical therapy. His vocal cords are still pretty bad, but hopefully I will know more after his first post-op appointment after Thanksgiving. The fact that I’ll be able to force him off of my couch and into the fresh air, albeit cold, for several hours almost makes me giddy. The not so giddy part is that I do have to go with him, otherwise I won’t know precisely what the doctor says. Let’s just say that the anesthesia that was used has some side effects and there are parts of his memory that simply aren’t there at the moment, which is quite scary for me to hear, but scarier for him because he knows he should know these things and keeps wondering why his brain is foggy and he can’t form coherent thoughts or access his memories. If ever I find that anesthesiologist, I might have to sit him down and explain certain things to him in thinly veiled threats. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to do it and I’m certain it won’t be the last.

If you’re celebrating this week, I wish you a wonderful, happy, and safe holiday. If you’re not, I wish you were coming to my house so I could cook for you. 😉

Be safe on Black Friday. It’s a fucking jungle of psychosis fueled by insane amounts of caffeine. I will be as far away from the madness as possible. Of course, I will still have someone hogging my TV and eating my food. If you see a good-looking man being auctioned off on eBay, I assure you I’m the seller. LOL.

shoppingwith — This has been me, for nearly a month. I’m not 100% sure what I’m even buying any more.

Patient X

2015-11-16 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Health, Heart Health, Heart Surgery, Honesty, Life, Medication, Musings, My Brother, Patient X, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing

Patient X is being released into my care this evening after major surgery at the beginning of the month. Discharge was repeatedly delayed by post-op illness and absolute idiocy on the part of doctors arguing over proper procedure. It took them nearly a week to discover that he had not one, but two separate infections. Thank G-d for Infectious Disease Specialists who put their foot down. #Respect Of course, the fact that I called the head of the hospital and informed them that discharging a cardiac patient with an infection is grounds for a lawsuit might very well have secured his bed for an additional three days. For the record, I try never to use the word “lawsuit”, except when it pertains to protecting my family’s health, their rights, or rights in general that may be in a violation type of situation. I know people who throw the word around way too often for no reason. It shouldn’t be used lightly.

I’m nervous about taking care of him for eight weeks (twelve if there are any setbacks) while he isn’t allowed to drive or do much, except the most basic things. For the next two months, the heaviest thing he can lift is a gallon of milk. In 4-6 weeks, longer if insurance delays it, he is supposed to have a second procedure done to ensure that his heart returns to 100% in terms of function. It’s a procedure that should only take a few days. The surgeon informed me that one or more procedures may need to be re-done in 25 years. However, this surgery has given my brother a new lease on life. Never before this absolute wake-up call would he have agreed to quit smoking or make healthier choices in regard to his health. It is sad that it had to come to something so severe, but I am determined to do what I can to make sure he heals properly and adheres to this new “heart healthy” lifestyle. It’s a serious change, but if he wants to live longer than either of our parents did (the situations were, obviously, quite different), then he is going to have to do his level best to commit.

Open heart surgery is rough. I would not wish this on my worst enemy. Hearing him struggle to breathe, cough, and move makes me ill. Knowing that his vocal cords need additional time to heal, along with his heart and wounds, just plain saddens me. That a single soul would tell me to leave for my move and let him recover alone pisses me off. I thank G-d this happened when I was physically in a position to do something to help and was not hundreds or thousands of miles away. In a situation like this, you do not want to get the dreaded phone call. Every time the phone rings and it’s the hospital, I get ill. Once he is released to me as a “patient”, he probably won’t be too thrilled, but he has already said he’s just so happy to be alive that he doesn’t care what I say or do. We’ll see how long that lasts.

I am sure I will utterly lose my head when I find out the total of the roughly fifteen prescriptions he’s going to have to take, only some of which are for the next six months. His surgeon assured him that nearly everything was cheap because they’re generics, but someone ought to clue the doctor in that even Walmart has a list of medications that are on their list of drugs they’ll cover for $4-$10, based on the number of pills and how long it’s prescribed for, but that the others are nowhere near the word “cheap”. The cost of medication in this country is utterly insane, but it’s right up there with the cost of healthcare, one of the biggest rackets on the planet. There is no possible way not to get a headache dealing with the drama.

Over the weekend I received the first bill for two separate tests they ran when he was admitted last month. The physicians who billed will have to whistle Dixie while dead before they see a penny from me. Process that shit to the insurance company, don’t send it to a third-party who isn’t a legal guardian. I am not allowed to stress out Patient X, lest he tear something inside his chest, so I haven’t told him about the bill. I won’t be telling him about any that come. I’m just going to get on the phone quietly and handle what needs to be handled. If you hear about me on the news, don’t be surprised.

As of this evening I will start accepting all gifts of alcohol (or dark chocolate) because I am almost certain my new “water bottle” is going to have vodka in it the second he whines or complains about anything I do. He texted me this morning to make sure his ginger ale would be “ice cold” for his arrival. Tomorrow I get to make Jello and pudding, like a proper little Real Housewife from Hell. 😛 If I get hit by a vehicle this week, it may or may not have been of my own volition. On a good day, there’s only so much bullshit I can take. On a bad day, well, you don’t want to know what I’m like on a bad day.

In preparation for all the fun I’m about to have tonight, and in the weeks to follow, I may or may not attempt to drown myself in the shower. But first, I need to find Cat and Kitten and get some unconditional love. I open their cans; they know where their bread is buttered. LOL. Is it too late for a straitjacket?

Situation Or Depression? There’s A Difference

2015-11-122015-11-12 Miss Poison Battles, Depression, Honesty, Life, Mental Health, Musings, November, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Things That Enrage Me, Unnecessary Drama, Writing Depression, Heart Surgery, Honesty, Life, Mental Health, Musings, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing

I had a major meltdown Monday. I can’t recall the last time I felt that alone, that isolated from my friends & family, or that upset. I’m certain it’s happened before, but Monday was simply too much, too soon, and way too intensely upsetting. I vividly remember scrolling through my contacts list at one point, and realizing that I could not call a single soul in it. I reasoned that I didn’t want to bother anyone at work. It was quite sobering.

When a strong woman says “I’m tired of being strong.”, it’s honest. When a strong woman says “I feel broken.”, that too is honest. But when a strong woman seeks help so that she does not harm herself, knowing the potential is there, and gets told “There’s a nine month waiting list to be seen.” or “We’re booked solid until January, so you should go to your nearest emergency room.”, it is astounding.

When you go to the emergency room with a mental health crisis of any kind, it is my experience that you will not be taken seriously unless you’re bleeding or have overdosed and were brought in on a stretcher. Does it really have to come down to that? I think it is a horrible approach and I wonder how many other people have experienced this.

If a mother can go to a police station, fire house, rescue squad, or hospital, and legally surrender an infant (Known as the Safe Haven Law) without fear of being deemed a criminal for child abandonment, then I should be able to go into any medical establishment and say “I am worried for myself, I need help.” without fear of judgment or criticism, or being mistreated. Instead, I spent several days talking to my insurance company, who are utterly useless, trying to find a way to get immediate care. But no such place exists without an extensive waiting list. They just keep telling me to go to the emergency room. I didn’t break my leg, this is not an emergency room situation unless I have hurt myself or someone else. G-d forbid!

I don’t need to be hospitalized. I know that, and so do the few people who support me, but do I need additional support and someone to talk to? Yes. I reached out to my psychiatrist for a prescription, asking whether or not I should go back on medicine I already have or medicine I used to take, the latter of which would require him to call a prescription into the pharmacy for me. Unfortunately, medication is always very tricky, and side effects are generally the reason I stop taking them. That, or the fact that they don’t make me feel better. I can’t function when I’m deathly ill from side effects or I can’t physically get out of bed from the drowsiness certain medications provide at even a low dose. I have yet to meet one that truly works without making things worse.

It’s almost 2016, and there are still so many people ashamed to talk about their use of antidepressants or anti-anxiety medication during difficult times in their life, or daily to manage very real issues that aren’t their fault to begin with. I would be far more embarrassed pretending I was okay when I am not. Suffering in silence makes the suffering one hundred times worse than it is if you simply reach out to someone and ask for help. But here I am, and there’s no one willing to help. It’s like being outside in -50 degree temperatures and having someone throw ice water at you. It is also incredibly hurtful and insulting.

The past few years have taken an immense toll on me, I’d never deny that, but the last two and a half weeks have been like bleeding to death slowly. And yet, as I sit here with a cold that came out of nowhere, I find myself unable to handle answering the phone or responding to a text message (I wish I could say they were simple, but they’re not. I currently have the Do Not Disturb feature on because listening to my phone vibrate all day is getting to me.). I’ve reached a point where too many people want immensely large pieces of me, but none of them are willing to grant me so much as an inch of kindness, compassion, or understanding. I take a few days to take care of myself and get told I’m horribly selfish, which is the exact opposite of who I am. I’m considering the asinine source before buying into such nonsense. Sometimes employing a “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that” filter is a good idea.

I am the first person to say that it’s important to advocate for your own mental health, and your overall health in general. It’s important to question everything, especially when you aren’t receiving legitimate answers. I also feel it is important to take ownership of your own crap. That being said, I feel like this particular situation is what’s affecting me and making me physically ill. It’s not depression in a traditional way, it is the situation causing how I feel, but it is still difficult and I’d prefer to be prepared for anything more that comes at me, as opposed to pretending nothing affects me. I’m human, and it’s not a crime.

agoodmood — I might not have been in a good mood to begin with, but come on, this has merit.

I got home late from the hospital Monday night. They keep the rooms outrageously hot in that particular part of the hospital. I kept putting eye drops in to counteract the heat drying my eyes out, and I kept disinfecting things because every other person was coughing or sneezing. I already knew I had something in my system, but now it’s affecting my head and chest. For a period of time yesterday, my voice was but a whisper. All I was capable of doing was sitting and today hasn’t been much better, except that I have my voice back and have been able to do a few things in and out of the house. My head feels like there are multiple hot pokers stuck in different directions, my sinuses are killing me, and my eyes and throat hurt like hell. The weather, all dark and grey, complete with rain, is only adding to the pressure in my skull. I find it insulting to get sick when I am already dealing with enough insanity.

My brother is still in the hospital. They wanted to discharge him on Monday, but his blood oxygen levels weren’t good and they were talking about doing another procedure before discharging him. By Tuesday, his levels were almost 100% improved, the second procedure was determined to be okay a month post-op, but not now. There was also a major snafu when one of his surgeons discovered a potential infection on an x-ray. He wasn’t sure what it was, but wanted to run some tests to figure it out. They have since discovered that he indeed has infection, but they aren’t 100% sure where or what it is. He’s been saying he “feels hot” since last week. They kept telling him his vitals were good and it was merely a side effect of the anesthesia and medication. Last night, the nurses argued once they discovered he had a high fever, because apparently the two nurses prior to the shift change failed to report that he had one at all. His primary surgeon was called at home around midnight and was, quite obviously, very concerned. He ordered a laundry list of tests, some of which were performed immediately after the phone call, and others were done earlier on, with a few more ordered for later today. My brother, in perfectly dramatic fashion, blamed me for this. It is, naturally, all my fault. How could it not be?! Lord knows I walk around with a veritable petri dish just waiting to unleash it on my own flesh & blood. <rolls eyes>

I’d like to blame that psychotic comment on his medication, but I have no idea where he gets the idea that I’m some kind of monster trying to keep him in the hospital (If I was, he’d be chained to a bed in a mental hospital.). Because I’m honest? Because I’m direct? Because I don’t coddle him? No matter what I say or do, I am wrong. It’s like being married, except this isn’t Arkansas (That was a snarky comment, not a statement of fact, lest someone become offended and lack the ability to decipher my sense of humor.).

Quite frankly, I’d like him to recover in someone else’s home, tormenting them. If I hear about his dietary restrictions one more time, he’ll be lucky to get a loaf of bread and a gallon of water each week upon being released into my “care”. I offered to bring him something when I go back to the hospital and was told I “can’t be obvious about it” because I brought him a request Monday and apparently someone asked how he got it or something along those lines. I didn’t know I was committing some evil act by trying to do something nice. He’s a grown man, what am I supposed to do, bring him a teddy bear?! His vocal cords are healing (If you watch Chicago P.D., I can tell you that, at the moment, he sounds a lot like Jason Beghe.) at a slow rate, so I’ve made an effort, but all he does is piss me off with the unappreciativeness. I don’t have a lot of patience to begin with, so insulting me is not the way to get what you want or need.

People don’t rely on me for compassion, they rely on me to get the difficult shit done. I realize he feels he deserves some kind of “compassion pass” at the moment, but I don’t have it in me to change the core of who I am. I handle and face situations, but I’m not going to be someone I’m not, regardless of what a situation may be. In life, there’s no room for sugar-coating, and I certainly don’t expect people to do it for me either. Deliver the facts, I will deliver solutions, but don’t play games with me. It can seem cold and dispassionate to people, but I am actually quite passionate. If I wasn’t passionate, I wouldn’t do a damn thing for anyone. I would absolutely be selfish and self-centered, but I’m not. Sometimes when people are going through something difficult, they imprint their issues onto you, because their coping mechanisms aren’t strong enough to hold them together emotionally.

Ultimately, medication or not, I know who I am. This week has been a bad situation and it upset me to an ugly point, but my survival and success rate are 100%. I’m not going anywhere.

Silence, Leaf Blowers, & Sunday Dinner

2015-11-082015-11-09 Miss Poison Migraines, Musings, Noise, November, Petty Garbage, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Things That Enrage Me, Thoughts, Toxic People, Writing Cooking, Migraines, Musings, November, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Psychotic Behavior, Silence, Sundays, Vile Neighbors, Who Does That?!, Writing

Waking up this morning, I had a plan. Thus far, that plan is at a standstill as I am still dealing with yesterday’s migraine. In turn, all I wanted was silence, in all its perfect glory. This, of course, is where the leaf blowers come in, and threaten to make me sicker.

After doing some mundane things earlier on in the day, the sound of three (I wish I were joking) leaf blowers on my property became unbearable. I was in the kitchen at the time doing some early prep for Sunday dinner, otherwise I might not have heard them in the back of the house, which is where I do most of my work.

I glanced out a window after a while because the noise was getting louder and closer, and there were no less than six people on my front lawn, three of whom had leaf blowers. I cannot tell you how annoyed I was, but I decided to let it go. If you can’t shoot people for being idiots, you might as well let them look like the idiots they truly are as they mind someone else’s business on a suburban street for all to see.

Yesterday my vile next door neighbor took it upon herself, as she does every Fall, to break out the leaf blower and blow every leaf off of her property onto mine. She blew them halfway to the middle of the front lawn, as if they magically got there on their own. Who does that, you ask? Someone not entirely sane.

She pretended she didn’t see me go to the mailbox before she started this nonsense, that I hadn’t answered a question when her husband stopped me to ask about my brother’s surgery, as he visited him in the hospital last week, and that she had not seen me Friday night when I came home from running errands. She was too busy gossiping, but believe me when I say her eyes are always on me and my business. As my brother would say “Don’t watch me, watch TV.”

Today, she did the same thing with the leaves, except this time she, her husband, and several other members of her family bagged the leaves up, because apparently they have nothing better to do on a Sunday morning. There are eighteen bags of leaves sitting at the end of my driveway, as if she did a good, neighborly thing out of some semblance of goodness that I can attest, does not exist. She put three bags in front of her driveway and the rest in front of mine, as if I am blind. She wants it to be obvious that she did it, but I’m smart enough to know her motives.

Don’t get me wrong, if this was a genuine move, I would be quite appreciative. I cannot afford to be an ungrateful bitch, and I’m not. However, she knew I was home. There were two cars in the driveway before she started and after she finished. There are several other houses on this street that could have used her brand of “assistance”. The neighbor next door lost her husband in April and is having a difficult time. I would think it would make a hell of a lot more sense to help her as she’s visibly struggling with such a severe loss, so believe me when I say this was far from genuine. If I were going to help someone, I would be doing the yard work for the other neighbor whose husband used to do to it for her and their family. That, at least, makes sense.

Here’s the issue, apart from my desperately needing quiet; This isn’t her house. If the leaves from my trees bother her, tough shit. They aren’t hurting anything or anyone, and there is no mandate in this township that says when or if you must bag up leaves or not. It is November, and it’s early November at that. The leaves can be bagged up for pick-up, if one chooses, well into mid-December. Generally the majority of mine get removed in early Spring because I’m not so OCD that it needs to be perfect. In fact, I’d prefer the chipmunks have leaves lying around in case they need them. Moreover, I have more important things to think about at the moment, and raking leaves is extremely low on the totem pole of thought. But hey, if she wants to waste over two hours, have at it. It will get colder, the wind will continue to blow, because hurricane season is not yet finished, and she’ll be back at it in a week or two weeks from now because both trees out front are FULL of leaves. They’re going to keep falling. It makes no sense to bag leaves up more than once, if one is going to do it at all.

Instead of treating me like a human-being that exists, she does this because the leaves bother her (God forbid a leaf get on her new car! The woman, I kid you not, threw a party to show her new car off to anyone and everyone, as if she hadn’t been driving a relatively new car before this. Did you just shake your head at the craziness of such a stunt? It’s very similar to driving around with the sale’s sticker on your car for months.), and what’s more, it bothers her that I do not say a word to her, not in English any way. I lack the ability to be polite to people once I’ve seen their true colors. I’m contemplating slipping a note under her husband’s windshield wiper when I go out tomorrow morning to thank him for bagging up the leaves, despite the fact that I know he wouldn’t do all that work on his own since he’s due for knee replacement surgery any day now. She thinks she’s being cute, but she has no idea who she’s screwing with. I should have taken video or photos, because if you’d seen the behavior as she barked orders at her minions, I mean family, you’d understand my reaction. I strongly suggest she see a doctor and get her medication adjusted.

Now that it is quieter, I am still hearing leaf blowers (and lawn mowers) throughout the neighborhood. It’s kind of like dogs that all bark in sync the second the mailman is on the street. If I knew where my ear plugs were, I might be able to quell some of the nausea the noise is inducing.

On the flip side, I LOVE preparing Sunday dinner, but since it’s just me (my brother won’t be eating solid food for quite some time and Case Study #2 is on his way to the airport.), I broke it up into three meals to prolong the culinary delights. I still have mushrooms to saute, some additional veggies to chop, and the centerpiece of it all to throw together. If I can get my stomach to settle down, dinner will be awesome and continue to be awesome for a few nights. 🙂

I have so many friends who don’t understand my love for cooking (My cousin once asked me how to make corn on the cob. I tried hard not to laugh as I explained the simplicity of it.), or who don’t cook at all, which is why I’m the one that feeds them when they visit, or when I visit them. Cooking is merely another art form I enjoy, it’s a skill set that not all people have. That doesn’t mean I don’t scoff when a friend of over 20 years happens to let me know that she’s learning how to cook for her husband. I had to explain that when cooking, you need to cleanse the palate in order to be able to taste what it is you are making and gauge the seasoning accordingly. When I received a giggly, moronic response, I rolled my eyes and have tried my level best to keep my mouth shut since. If you’re public with your stupidity, or you advertise it via social media, don’t expect me to pretend I didn’t just hear what you said. Don’t hand-feed the writer material!

And on that note my loves, I am off to the kitchen once more to put all of the finishing touches on one of my favorite meals. Buon appetito! 🙂

Morphine Mania

2015-11-072015-11-07 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia, Heart Surgery, Life, Musings, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Recovery, Self-Care, Stress, Weekends, Writing

It’s no secret; I’ve had a rough two weeks dealing with a serious family emergency. If you’ve ever had to force a man (or any loved one) to go the hospital knowing that something was clearly NOT “okay”, perhaps you can relate.

My brother came out of surgery Thursday afternoon, a good three hours earlier than I anticipated based on the scheduling of the surgery itself. The look on my face when I saw the hospital’s phone number on my cell phone screen so early was scary; I wondered if I was about to be forced to make a medical decision on his behalf, but it was all good news. Surgeons in certain fields are a little too cocky for my taste. The better the school they go to, the cockier they seem to be. 😦 His surgeon told me how great he did (I wasn’t sure if he meant himself or my brother, the man was way too excited.) and that because he is young and healthy, he should be good to go after he heals. I’ve inherited a patient for the next 3-4 months once he’s discharged from the hospital. You can probably feel my enthusiasm from wherever you are reading this. People in Siberia can feel the warmth of that enthusiasm. I’m contemplating becoming an alcoholic in advance of his arrival.

My brother, when sick, is the world’s biggest pain in the ass. If he has an ear infection, I have to hear about it non-stop and deal with his whining. I could have headphones on and still hear him bitching from ten miles away. Post-surgery brother, which is an absolute first, is going to drive me to new levels of insanity. Feel free to send plenty of bottles of wine and hard liquor my way. My “water bottle” might very well have vodka in it later today.

He called me yesterday morning after they removed the tube they left in overnight because they were afraid he’d rip it out, and not only did he sound insane, but he openly admitted he couldn’t feel anything because they have him on a high dose of morphine. He told a nurse “Sure, take blood. I can’t feel my arms.” NICE. There’s nothing I enjoy more than hearing someone repeat themselves ten times in less than thirty minutes. Even better, he said he wasn’t repeating himself as he disclosed details of his surgery that I simply did NOT need to hear about. I don’t know him that well, he doesn’t need to share every single thing with me. 😛

In my brother’s infinite wisdom, he gave me a list of errands to run for him. However, he left out crucial information, like where he keeps certain things and how I can access them. Welcome to the land of the paranoid boy. “Do this…”, but apparently I don’t need to know HOW, I just need to “get it done”. I am shaking my head at the stupidity of it all, and the fact that I went to four different places to handle this crap. I can’t decide if I’m stupid or insane. By the time I got home last night, I had dinner and went to bed, and this morning there is not a single part of my body that doesn’t hurt like hell.

I did everything earlier than I anticipated so that Monday, once all the tubes come out, I can go to the hospital for a while, and perhaps then, I will be let it on the secret as to where all the other documents are so that I can copy, print, scan, and fax/ e-mail them to the necessary parties. I’ve seen a LOT in my life medically, but there are some things my brain does not need branded in it for life. I’m banned from his room until the tubes come out, as he’s afraid I will pass out and/or throw up on someone. I have NO idea why he thinks I’m some sheltered little creature. Far from it. However, he said he’d prefer that I not see him as he is now, but that I can come once he looks like a “normal human-being again”, whatever that looks like.

Things are all pointing in good directions for him health-wise at the moment, but I can tell that recovery will be slow. It makes me sick that he’s coughing and is in so much pain from every movement. I understand pain far more than he will ever realize, but I have been lucky to avoid surgery, despite one major hospital stay.

He can’t do anything for 12 weeks upon being discharged from the hospital, but he said he’d give the paperwork to me so I can A) Read everything and B) Learn about his new diet. Subtlety at its finest. 😦 I offered to make him homemade chicken soup this weekend and bring him some on Monday, but he refused, saying it was “too much work”. It’s roughly a few hours of letting the flavors simmer before I pull the chicken out, but if he’s going to be on an all liquid diet for a week or two, nothing is better than homemade soup. It soothes the soul and heals the body, or at least mine does. Then he told me it likely has too much salt in it, which was downright insulting (No one has EVER accused me of that!), so I will bring him something else once he decides what he wants. His vocal cords are going to take some time to heal, so for now, he’s asking for some pretty weird things, but I am happy to bring them if they will make him feel better. If I can keep his mouth full, it might even keep him quiet. 😉

I am glad to have this weekend to rest my body. Even after a night’s worth of sleep, I’d gladly go back to bed and snuggle with Cat, who returned to her spot in bed as soon as she finished her breakfast. She looks so warm and cuddly in her twisted upside down position while she purrs. There is something about watching Cat and Kitten in their restful states that often makes me sleepy, perhaps it’s how calm and relaxed they are in the safety of their home. Of course, Kitten just got smacked for jumping up on the bed and checking on her. As she has grown in size, Cat has become less amused by her antics. There is a definite balance between play and slumber. If she feels Kitten is getting out of hand or acting out of turn, she will smack her gently, to let her know she’s not in the mood. Kitten is still a baby in so many ways, so she will either smack her back and force her to engage in play, or walk away sad, which is precisely when she looks at me as if to say “Mommy, she’s being mean to me.” She defers to her ‘older sister’, but she won’t take crap from her either. They have watched over me these past two weeks while I’ve been in various stages of upset, and cared for me when I’ve felt sick myself. This is a great benefit of raising little creatures that unconditionally love you. People, I find, are too fickle to truly offer that level of love.

Since my original plans for this weekend are no longer valid, anyone who sees SPECTRE needs to let me know how they enjoyed it. Feel free to send me spoilers as well, since I have to pre-order it on Blu-Ray which won’t happen ’til next year. I absolutely HATE missing another Bond movie opening weekend. 😦 If you know me well, you know why.

And so, I am off to begin “the weekend” in some fashion. I’ve been up for hours, but haven’t made any definitive decisions as to what I will do. For now, I think Self-Care needs to be a priority.

Wishing you all an enjoyable, happy, & safe weekend. Do something fun! 🙂

Sleep Deprived

2015-11-03 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Health, Heart Surgery, Honesty, Life, Musings, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sleep Deprivation, Writing

I spent Sunday running on less than three hours of sleep. As you can imagine, it was an incredibly long day. I pushed myself to go to the hospital. I was surprised I wasn’t in and out in twenty minutes, as hospitals are more than a little traumatic for me. I managed to stay for quite a while. It was, quite possibly, a first. It might have been because the CICU rooms are private (another first), it might have been because it’s practically empty in there (It might very well have been the quietest hospital I’ve ever been to.), or it might have simply been a week’s worth of stress and concern relieved, to some extent, when I saw that there weren’t fifteen different contraptions hooked up to one person. Normally when I see that, I never see the person alive again. In fact, my brother has already informed all of the surgeons, doctors, and nurses NOT to allow me in if he’s hooked up to a multitude of devices. He’s afraid I’ll lose it.

As of yesterday, my brother is stable, but they’re trying to adjust his medication because he is losing electrolytes at a rapid pace, which is based solely on the medication he is receiving. Tests are being run in earnest so that they can move forward with surgery. Initially it was scheduled for this morning, but late yesterday afternoon a doctor came in and told him it was canceled so they can monitor him for several more days and adjust his medication before moving forward. That information was jarring. First he told me “Surgery is at 7:00 tomorrow morning.” and a few hours later he tells me it’s been canceled and explains why. I went through a myriad of emotions that were quite exhausting. Now obviously, this isn’t about me, but I am still greatly affected. His mood is better, and he was really happy to see me. He said it gave him strength to face what is coming.

Now that I know the direction they’re taking, I realize how sleep deprived I am from last week, and in general. I grocery shopped Sunday afternoon like a staggering zombie. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was buying, either. I saw a list in front of me and I got most of what was on the list (I still have to go back in a few days and get everything I couldn’t handle in the moment.), which I realized yesterday morning, but I was truly not functioning on all cylinders. I’m so stressed that I require reminders to eat, or I’ll simply feed Cat and Kitten and ignore my own body’s needs.

Cats aren’t on Daylight Saving Time, which is an adjustment for us humans. They’re waking me incredibly early (two hours or so earlier than normal.) to be fed, they’re asking for “dinner” at 3:00 in the afternoon, and Cat likes to screw with me by walking away from her food at least once a day. She patiently waits for me to “serve” them and then runs and hides as I try to scoop her up and put her in front of her plate. I can only catch her if she wants to be caught. She’ll wait a few hours and then roll a ball into my room while I work or drop a toy at the door. She’ll stare at me with her big, gold eyes and implore me to understand that I need to stay with her while she eats, that she requires protection from “the little one”. I picked Kitten up the other day to let her know her behavior was unacceptable and inform her that she’d already eaten and needs to leave her sister alone so that she can eat her own food in peace. She’s not “little” any more. The kitten behavior remains in her energy, curiosity, affection, and sweetness, but she felt like a small sack of potatoes. She could easily pass for a small turkey if she sits the right way and yet I will probably learn in a few months when she gets her shots that she’s about ten pounds. That’s the normal weight and size she should be for now. Her energy and weight will adjust and she’ll either remain the same weight or lose a pound or two. Torties are like thoroughbred horses (some, not all). Their running, jumping, troublesome, adventurous natures do not stop as they get older. Their personalities are more human, but they seem to take the whole “nine lives” thing seriously and do their level best to test them out. You either have a stroke watching this behavior or you get used to it. I try not to react too much since she is my second Tortie. Surprisingly, they are quite similar in many ways.

This week, despite only being Tuesday, feels like a cosmic joke. I write, I take care of normal things, but I’m not truly present in any way. There are always e-mails, phone calls, and texts at the moment. There are friends and family overseas that are deeply concerned and feeling guilty that they’re not present. I did not tell a lot of family members because it was against my brother’s express wishes and quite frankly, they don’t need to know. If people don’t care about you year-round, then they should not be allowed to lap up your pain and misery simply because it makes them feel superior in some way. I don’t understand people like that. I don’t find anyone’s pain amusing. I still have compassion. And sadly, if any of these people needed me, I’m not 100% sure I’d make myself available any more. The people who are always there for me know my heart and they know I’d take a bullet for them, but anyone that cannot stand by me in good and bad times, whether we are blood-related or not, needs to fuck off.

I’m not very receptive to excuses. In life and death matters, people should be present. My Aunt told me her children (my first cousins, all of whom should know better, but apparently my brother & I are the only ones that inherited brains.) didn’t attend my parent’s funerals because their children were sick. We’re not talking about infants, so my thought process was “Then ask a neighbor, a friend, or a fucking babysitter to watch them for two hours. You do NOT pretend like your Uncle and Aunt didn’t pass away, and by all that is holy, do NOT show up a year later and pretend like I am going to accept your presence as acceptable behavior.” If I don’t go to a funeral, it is probably because I wasn’t given enough notice, not because I am being disrespectful. You don’t ask a third-party to e-mail me about a funeral. That’s not how you do things like that. And if you do, screw you, I won’t be there.

My brother isn’t as fierce as I am. If a person doesn’t call or visit him in the hospital, he doesn’t take it personally. He told me last night that only a handful of people matter, and that I’m the one who matters the most, no one else. Even still, it makes me angry that the people who should be supporting him are not. You definitely see people’s true colors during hard times, but the truth is much more easily faked during good times. I don’t respond well to that. I know when people aren’t being genuine. There’s a huge difference between being nosy and legitimately caring about another person’s well-being.

And so, I have reached a “point of no return”. I’d rather cut the herd now, as opposed to continue dealing with fake crap. There are a few people who are about to be torn new assholes, and quite frankly, it doesn’t bother me in the least. No one deserves to deal with people who spew crap out of two different ends. No one.

I know many of you can relate to the family and friend dynamics I am talking about. It’s disgusting, but I think overall, we are all better off cutting people out that are cancers in our lives.

Boxes, Hospitals, & The Immovable Insomniac

2015-10-29 Miss Poison Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing All Saints' Day, Boxes, Cat and Kitten, Dia de los Muertos, Exhaustion, Halloween, Insomnia, Migraines, Moving, Musings, My Brother, October, Packing, Poison In Lethal Doses, Rain, Samhain, Stress, Writing

I scored boxes at my local liquor store Monday afternoon. If you’d seen them piled up in the backseat of my car, you would have thought I was throwing the party of the century.

For those that told me Barnes & Noble would not only have boxes, but happily give them to me; you’re all wrong. I called them and was slightly disgusted by their “policy” regarding boxes they’re only going to end up having to recycle. Other places are much more willing to hold large boxes for me as soon as they receive deliveries. Everyone else is seemingly re-using a single box 4-5 times until the boxes fall apart completely. I totally understand reuse, it’s common sense, but I also think it’s overkill for the people who have to work at the distribution centers and those that deliver. Use any box too many times and it will break; this is a fact.

And yet, with all these boxes, I can barely move because I overdid it Monday. I managed to get a bruise on my hand, of all places. I suspect this is the first of many more to come. 😦 I hurt so bad in my neck, shoulders, back, and legs that I’d give a lot to sit somewhere and watch someone else do all of this work. Don’t get me wrong, I would happily water them, feed them, and give them regular breaks. I’m not a slave driver.

Moving is very difficult, and it’s made harder when you’re on a creative streak, but when you’re on an emotional streak as well? It’s super difficult, to say the least. My brain was utterly devoid of complicated thought for many hours yesterday because there are too many stressful things going on at once. I have no idea when I am going to shut down or kick into high gear, but I sense a change in the wind.

My brother’s health is currently at a stand-still in terms of what is and isn’t being done. The procedure he was supposed to have done yesterday was put off. I received a text after 11:00 a.m. to let me know they might not be able to get him in at all due to so many emergencies concerning people in worse shape. This progressed until they finally decided they’d let him eat. We later learned from the lab techs that he was low man on the totem pole because so many heart attacks and catastrophic heart patients came in after he did. That makes sense, but now he is being tested for additional problems. 😦 This is precisely when my brother becomes a PITA (Pain In The Ass) patient.

He has sent me photos and video. Granted, one video was for Cat, because she’s searching for him. She’s moping and pining because her boyfriend isn’t here to tell her how pretty, sweet, and good she is. She IS a beautiful cat, and she’s very sweet, but their relationship borders on nauseating at times. I was in bed at 8:15 last night and she threw me out of bed several hours later simply because she was A) Bored, B) Hungry and refusing to eat, and/or C) In search of her favorite man. Why should I sleep when complicated cat emotions need to be tended to?

It’s good that I’m awake though. I can do some things around the house, take out the recycling as soon as it stops raining, and try to focus on packing my linen closet and a few things in my bathroom. The smaller the room, the easier I can handle it, focus, and get it done, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. If I start now, I will have an additional bag or two for pickup. I put one out last night, but it was just normal stuff as opposed to ” I threw it all away!” stuff. There’s a difference in the weight.

Of course, the more I sit here writing, thinking, the more I realize how physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted I am. There should be a nurse standing over me, forcing me to bed with all sorts of pills and liquids. Alas, there is not.

The only noise is the rain and the wind. Cat is sleeping a few feet away to my right, with her ears pointed in my direction. I have no idea where Kitten is hiding, but I know she’s not far. That little bug is never far away from Mommy or sister, which is kind of nice. 🙂 Now if I could get a handle on these migraines, that would be fantastic, but we all know that increased stress is going to increase the amount of migraines I get. Unless I am able to fully take a breath and calm down, they’re going to keep up their insane ways. Never a dull moment, but man am I praying for one!

I don’t know what these next few days hold, but if I’m silent, please know that I wish everyone a happy & safe Halloween, a blessed Samhain, a festive Dia de los Muertos, and a peaceful All Saints’ Day. If you don’t celebrate any of the aforementioned, have a piece of candy and chill.