Anyone out there?

Im not sure if anyone is still checking in or if everybody gave up on this blogger.

I'm finding it hard to get my feet back under me this time around. I'm still reading all your blogs, I just don't have the energy nor the concentration to write.

I have not smoked though!! It has been 55 days as of today!! Maybe the extreme rush of all that extra O2 has fogged my brain. More like it, all those little receptors that were already so screwed up, are even more confused now! I keep reminding myself that could be the case...if any of you medical type KNOW about this stuff - tell me.

I've never coughed as much as I am now either - not ever during my 27 years of being a smoker. I guess that will go away too?

<<>>>>

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Medicine, Depression and BLoggers

I want to say to the bloggers out there who live with depression and are courageous enough to speak about it on your blogs, how very much your stories touch me.

I have lived with this “Black Dog” (thanks, Dr. Dork, for educating me about this term) since 1992. It seems to worsen with age (I am now 46) and it also seems that each time my medications requires a change, they works for a shorter period of time than the last.

(Not to be confused with this black dog who is the love of my heart!!)

Some days, it is indescribable. The sorrow, the depth of the pain inside, the constantly having to remind myself that as it came back, it will go away again, at least for a while.

Those “whiles” are becoming so much shorter though. It is hard to keep up hope. I have read that, “Suicide is what happens when the pain becomes greater than the resources for coping with the pain”.

It is extremely hard to continue searching for reasons to hang around when I think about the fact that I may have to fight this for 20 or 30 more years, and it seems I spend more of my life trying to justify staying than not, but when I hear other individuals saying the same things I think when I am in that dark place, I begin to think I am not so alone as I thought I was. I dwell on, “If they made it through another time, I can too”.

I began reading BLOGS when I found the first one written by a doctor. The I found another and another and it just snowballed from there. My "favorites" list is about 2 miles long now. My dream as a child was to be a surgeon and I actually trained and worked as a surgical tech for a short time back in the 80's, and anything medical still fascinates me, but I have learned so much more reading these blogs.

Through some of these new web “friends” I have learned that this black dog of depression is not unique to me and that there are other people who have the same self doubts and dark, weepy days that I do and I would NEVER condemn them for “being weak” or “whining” yet I have beat myself up over this like it was some kind of weakness for years. Ya’ll have taught me to be more kind to myself.

So, when your days get busy and you think you never get through to anyone with whatever it is you spend your day doing, keep in the back of your mind that you just never know just how many people you DO touch.

Smoking Cessation

12 days...I could pull out a big ole can on sombody about now.

I sure do miss that calming feeling when you take those first few puffs.

My wheezing is better, but I still couldn't run around the block if you chased me with a machete.

Now if my boss would just quit. Sitting here in this office 9 hours a day breathing his ole nasty non-menthol generic brands is about to choke me to DEATH......argh!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anybody want a slightly used barbaric boss?

Quitting Smoking

I have not smoked since 2006!

It has been 10 days now. Last time I quit I made it 12 days.

I've had this "friend" since I was 13 years old. When I was worried, I would visit this friend. When I was scared, this friend would comfort me. Nervous, upset, happy, you name it and this friend was there.

I know, I know, this "friend" was killing me behind my back, but it was still my friend.

30 years is a long, long time to suddenly drop such a habit.

Prescription Drugs

My husband is on the following drugs:

Levoxyl
Avandamet
Amaryl
Cymbalta
Welbutrin
Avandia
Lisinopril
Ultram ER
Relafen
Vytorin
Metformin
Nexium
Trazadone
Lantus (insulin)
Fentanyl Patch

In three months, there will be no insurance to help with these drugs. I think I'm going to make him up a sign..."Will cook for drugs"...he is a wonderful cook!!

Healthcare in the U.S. of A.

Dr. Dork had a good post today. His comment section allowed me to vent. Allowed me to say some things I've been wanting to say. Here is my comment...

I have been a patient, or had a child or spouse as a patient, in an emergency room no more than 5 times in my 46 years.

Two were for my dear son who grew faster than his coordination could keep up and either had broken bones or gashes that needed suturing and could not wait until the next morning.

Two were for me. One I was in labor and the other I was having a drug reaction.
The 5th, my daughter broke her wrist sledding...unfortunately after 5:00 PM. At that time, there were no "doc-in-a-box" in our area.

I don't pretend to know the answers. Heck I don't even know some of the words you use without consulting Websters, but I know what it is like to be on this end of things.

Now that my husband is so ill, if something doesn't change soon, we may be one of those families most doctors detest who use the ER like a family physician.

His insurance (COBRA) runs out in March. His job so far refuses to consider him full time (hence no benefits) even though he is working 40 hours every week since they hired him 3 months ago.

Through no fault of his own, he lost a good paying job with good benefits this past April. He is on over $1400 a month in medications. He has several chronic illness' and was in good health until one after another they struck him down over the last 9 years of his life.
He worked full time throughout high school and college, paying off his parents home as his dad was disabled by 44 and dead by 49.

I guess you could blame it on us somehow -if you stretched it. Maybe he could have gotten his degree in an area that was termination proof. Maybe he could have married a woman who was better educated and better equipped to pay these medical bills.

Like I said, I don't know the answers, but I also don't know what we will resort to when his COBRA expires and our small savings is depleted.

Use an ER as a family doctor? Maybe divorce (on paper) so he will qualify for all the freebies out there he would qualify for were it not for my paycheck?

Next time some of you docs snarl and moan about someone using your ER as a doctor office, look yourself in the mirror and remind yourself that it could have been you walking through that door.

Not everyone who finds themselves in this situation are there because they are lazy or dumb or not willing to try or any of the other names you can pin on them.

Thanks for the opportunity to vent Dr Dork.

Quakers, Rats and Cockatiels, YES!!

I became the proud new mama of two birds and two new ratties this weekend.

The birds came from my dearest friend in the world who is unable to keep them due to some pretty serious upcoming surgery. She has Syringomyelia. Those that pray, please remember her. Her surgery is scheduled for January 4th and 5th (it will require two separate surgeries and she will be on a respirator between the surgeries).

Willie, is a Quaker parrot and so far has only brought blood three times. He doesn’t know it yet, but I am a very insistent person when it comes to taming animals. Last night he actually sat with me for over an hour with no fussing.

Peanut is a cockatiel. He wolf whistles and speaks of what a pretty bird he is. He also mocks you if you sneeze or laugh! Which is sometimes funny, sometimes not, depending....I have not tried to hold him yet since he seems much more FIERCE than Willie and I didn’t have a lot of time this weekend what with all the wonderful holiday crap going on.

The two new ratties, are very young males. We named them Mutt and Odie. I already had two females, Maxine and Gladys. No, we won’t be breeding them – separate cages! I just wanted a couple more.

Animals have always held a spot in my heart. I’ve yet to have one who didn’t love me and none so far have called me ugly names or intentionally hurt my feelings. They’re much cheaper than shrinks too.

I almost feel like an alcoholic except instead of alcohol my drug of choice is having pets. I guess that’s okay since I do love them and take good care of them. I don’t drive weird after I have been with them and I don’t get mean or nasty either.

Mt dream job....owning a doggy day care! That is my dream job, but since I need benefits, I guess I’ll continue to work for a big corporation.

Merry Ho Ho and humbugs to all.

Bah...Humbug

I came across two people today who during the holidays just aren’t happy. One was the nurse at my doctors’ office. She actually came into my room and began weeping with dread at the family dinners she would be attending. Feeling the way I do about the whole affair, I was finding it difficult to encourage her at all. I finally told her to make her own traditions and stay away from people who make you ‘unhealthy’ and gave her a hug and reminded her it was okay to feel the way she was feeling.

Then my doctor came in the room and slouched down in his chair and propped his knees up and said “well are you ready for Christmas?” When I said I couldn’t seem to get into it this year, he poured his guts out too. They all say the same things to me. How it is just to frenzied, how the very essence seems to have disappeared. How family’s who are not close try to get together during the holidays and have their get-togethers and buy presents for all the kids that they don’t know well enough to know what they might enjoy receiving and put on their happy faces and then go their separate ways until next year rolls around so they can do the whole pretense again.

For me, Christmas is seeing other people smiling and appearing to be so happy and peaceful and shopping with such joy in their hearts. I hear them talking about their big plans to get together with mom and dad and all the siblings along with their kids for a big meal.

My reality is I live with severe depression that has not lifted in several months now. I am so tired I can’t seem to put my happy face on too much – heck I can’t even find where I left it half the time.

I have no desire to go spend a Saturday right before Christmas with a bunch of strangers only because they are related to me by blood. Some of them were not so very nice to me when I was a little kid and as I have gotten older, I just feel I am “healthier” when I don’t go around them. Mainly I am speaking of my parents.

I write them letters about once a month, but being with them just causes me all this tension and I wind up either with a migraine or with my stomach all torn up. My one sister, 10 years older than me, has never wanted anything to do with me. I finally gave up on trying to forces us into a relationship several years ago. But we’ll go to the parties and they will go through the motions and we will go though the motions and then we’ll go home and not see nor hear from them again until next Christmas.

Christmas is especially tough for me because I miss my son. He has not spoken to me since 1999 when I left his daddy. He has two babies who will never know they have a grandma who loves them. Christmas and all the smiling happy people just drive that point home to me with a double edged sword during the holidays.

I’m going tomorrow to shop for gifts for them. I won’t see the kids but I usually leave their gifts at my daughters and they pick them up there. They never call and say they enjoyed it or thank you or anything like that. I have no clue what to get them. I don’t know what they are into or what sizes they wear or what they need.

Tomorrow is the last day I can put off doing my shopping for the little family thing at my daughters. If you look closely in the stores tomorrow, I'll be the ony wearing ear plugs to block the holiday music.

I just bet Jesus is not happy with how his special day turns out.

Happy? Who, me? When?

I don’t remember the last time I felt happy.
I don’t remember the last time I felt normal.
I don’t remember the last time I thought, “this is fun”.

If I really strain my brain, I can vaguely remember when he and I used to go to the pool at the apartment complex we were living in at the time. We would go every evening after work. It was a nice little walk through the complex to get there. We would just hang around in the edge of the water. Talking, or not talking. Nice little walk back to the apartment.

I remember feeling happy when he first moved in back at the apartment and we would cuddle, or go somewhere in the car and sit next to one another.

I have to strain really hard to think of something before or since that. Maybe riding the Harley? Maybe when my first granddaughter was a baby and I used to keep her for days at a time? Maybe when I was a cop? Maybe the hours spent out in the swing at night back in the country? The time spent in the barn with the animals?

I had to put some things in my personnel file at work this morning. I looked through the pictures taken over the past 6 years. My countenance has changed so drastically.

The first couple of pictures, whether I was smiling or not, I just plain looked happy, or at least content. The last one, taken about 4 months ago, is a tired lonely sad looking lady I don’t even recognize. She looks like someone who has hung on just about as long as she can. It is rather embarrassing to think that when people look at me that is what they see.

I don’t think it is normal not to be able to remember being happy. The last time I remember was probably 6 years ago. Is that normal?

Hollow Penance

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

I hope it is not the holidays, but neither do I want
it to be the medication not working. I thought I had
gotten past the era where the holidays make me so
sad. I wonder how long I have been this way?

There is so much about me I don’t know.

Have I always been sad during Christmas? Have I
always been so afraid to be alone? Why?

Have I always felt so completely and utterly helpless?

I have made some horrible mistakes in my life. I have
done things that hurt so many people. Bad hurts.
Permanent hurts. When I get in this part of me where
I am now, they all scream at me. I cannot make them
go away nor do I believe I should be able to make them
go away. They are my penance. The suffering I deserve
for the stupid things I have done.

I used to think they were the worse consequences of
my actions. I am no longer sure of that. Now I wonder
if the worst consequence is the one I pay every day.

The loneliness. The feeling of nothingness. The untouched
soul.

I feel so hollow inside. Like if a fire came lone there would
not even be enough sustenance to keep it burning. My
outer shell longs for the touch of someone who yearns
for me, who wants me. Someone who enjoys my touch
and my taste. My skin feels like one huge irritated
nerve ending. Like the simplest of touches would send
me over the edge.

It is funny how he wanted me so badly when he couldn’t
have me. Was it the challenge that excited him so?
Was it the fact I was younger? Was it a mid-life crisis that
I gave up everything I had ever known for?

I don’t think I am this strong anymore. I am just so tired
of playing make believe.

My Love Affair with Cigarettes

I have smoked some type of MENTHOL cigarette since I was 13 years old except for two 9 month periods of my life when I was pregnant. Even then, it was not out of the goodness of my heart that I quit, it was mainly the fact that it was so hard to smoke with your head in the toilet for hours at a time.

I have not had one since Sunday (yesterday as I write this) November 26 at 10:10am (on my way to church). I told my Heavenly Father if He would have me quit, He was going to have to take them from me because I am too weak to lay them down. They are too closely connected to my depression and it is almost like letting go of a friend to whom I have turned for comfort for the past 33 years.

I slept most of the day yesterday so it wasn't so hard, but today I am at work and I keep thinking all the "junkie" thoughts:

"I am 46...the damage is already done. I may as well go ahead and enjoy what time I have left".

"Who cares if I can't get on the treadmill and breathe at the same time!?!"

"Do I really want to sing in the choir this badly?"

"What if it makes my depression worse?" I guess this one is the main one for me right now.

Friends, if you pray - please do. If you don't, send me some warm fuzzies or dark chocolate - either one will do.

PROZAC, AND ZOLOFT AND ATIVAN OH MY!!

Dr. Mama has a post on her BLOG http://doctormama.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-didnt-mean-right-now.html about a former patient who just recently drank herself to death. It spoke about how this lady cared about nothing other than her alcohol. How she had no interest in her daughter nor her granddaughter. That made me think back (uh-oh)!

I have never considered myself to be a bleeding heart or anything like that. I believe we all pay for our choices in life and if my road is a little rockier than yours has been, then I just have to get over it. Regardless of that, I think about things a little differently as I grow older.

This lady no doubt hurt a lot of people, probably most of all her grown child. I know at 46, I still yearn for my mothers’ acceptance and love, although I have stopped holding my breath. With an alcoholic parent, you can just about say you have no parent.

What about the alcoholic mother? Who was she? What lived inside of her that her best option was to attempt to keep it smothered through the use of alcohol?

I have struggled with depression since 1992, and in the past year or two, anxiety has entered this vast “playground in my mind”. It isn’t enough that when my medications don’t work (and sometimes eve when they do) I spend the majority of my days wishing I wouldn’t wake up and crying for no apparent reason, now I can’t go out in public without my heart pounding and my chest feeling like it will explode while the sweat pours off me.

For instance, a few weeks ago my husband and I joined the church we had been visiting for some weeks. In our area, in our denomination, you join a church by walking down front and telling the pastor you would like to join the congregation. After he talks with you for a moment, he will have you stand there by him at the front of the church, while he announces to the church and God and everybody, that this "fine couple" would like to join, where they will then all smile and clap their hands or say, “Amen” or whatever.

Now I would NOT want to see a video of what I must have looked like at that moment. Not that our church videos it services’, but still. We stood there about 10 minutes while he introduced us and then afterwards everyone walked by us and shook our hands welcoming us to their church family.

Had it lasted one minute more, I can assure you someone in that line would have had to go home and shower, because I was doing all I could not to hurl. Sweat was pouring off me like a breastfeeding mother in a room full of hungry babies. (I'm sorry - my attempt at humor falls so short some days).

I was shaking and I could FEEL the red in my face where I fully expected blood to come cascading out of my pores any time. I felt so bad for the church folk, because though I didn’t look up at them while the preacher was introducing us, I am sure 90% of them were smiling at us. I’m standing there, sweating, shaking, and thinking, “Look at them!! You're being rude! Look at them!! Smile at them!!” but I just couldn’t. I looked up over the sea of faces once, for a split second, and the room started to spin. I figured whether I stared down at the floor the whole time, or puked on the folks sitting on the front pew, either way they’re gonna think “She’s a nut”.

Now I have not always had this problem. I am a former cop. I was a substitute teacher in our high school for several months at one point. Folks, neither of those are jobs for anyone with the severe anxiety I suffer from. Teenagers can eat a substitute alive and then ask for more afterwards.

I have no idea where this came from, nor how to get rid of it. Yeah I had an abusive sucky childhood and then married an abuser at the tender age of 15 and was immediately “discouraged” (spelled = forbidden) from seeing my family and friends and basically spent the next few years alone with a child and a husband.

I dropped out of school at 16. No prom. No dating or going out with my friends or normal phases of growing up. We had no phone, no neighbors, one car, and were five miles to the nearest pay phone. But even with all my baggage, I thought once you were old enough and mature enough, this stuff didn’t bother you; didn’t leave any lasting effect on you. If my problem is not from the warped life I had– I don’t know what caused it.

I will tell you this though; there was a time, a few years back, when I began to drink. It began when I first realized my marriage was over. I was 38.

Before I knew what I had done, I had slipped down that slippery cliff where I was drinking a couple of nights a week then driving 52 miles home – completely & totally wasted. When I finally left my marriage, and was living in a little unfurnished apartment (yep – I walked away with nothing after 24 years!), I was drinking every day that I didn’t have to work. Alone.

I never enjoyed the taste (does anybody really drink because they like the taste???). I never sipped either. I SLAMMED. Scotch, gin, whiskey. No little cute drinks with umbrellas, just pure straight alcohol. I drank with one purpose in mind...I wanted to be numb. I wanted the ugliness to go away, and it did for a while, even as I was worshipping the porcelain god at least the memories were far away. The voices that belittled me and told me how worthless I was my entire life ceased to speak at least for a little while.

I look back and cannot believe I risked other peoples’ lives by driving that way. I KNEW better! I deserve every rotten comment I may get on this one! I didn’t want to hurt anyone else, but every night I would drive down that interstate thinking how could I aim my car just right so that it would run into one of those huge pillar things and kill me without it looking intentional. I wanted to die so badly but I didn’t want to embarrass anyone doing it.

I am a middle age, white-collar professional. You would never have looked at me and thought of me as an alcoholic, someone who would leave work, get totally wasted, then drive 50 some odd miles home.

I thank God that He protected those around me during that period of time. I also thank Him for choosing to protect me through my stupidity, and allowing me the grace to not drink again.

Folks, I’m not condoning how that lady lived and died, I’m just saying I surely can understand it. Sometimes, you’ll do anything to get rid of those pesky little voices, even if it requires throwing up afterward.

BANTY ROOSTERS AND SUCK-UPS

No more work related posts....so this one has been removed.

Battered Women & Childhood Bullying

My daughter was one of those kids who it seemed wore a "Pick on Me" sign throughout their childhood. In case any of you have not been in that position, believe me when I say it is a horrible place to be.

There was a period of time in high school that she rode the bus home from school. There was one girl in particular who seemed to get a big kick out of picking on her. This same girl was in a crowd of girls who that same year jumped on another teen and hurt her pretty seriously. I'll call this girl "Jane".

I saw this story in our paper this morning...it is about "Jane":

A woman whose toddler was beaten to death by a former abusive boyfriend four years ago died Sunday after being beaten by her live-in boyfriend.

City Police arrested and charged Boyfriend “John” (Name removed) with murder Sunday. The murdered woman, “Jane”, (Name removed), 28, died at approximately 8:45 a.m. of a traumatic brain injury in the neuro intensive care unit at City Health Medical Center, the County Coroner said.

Paramedics responded to a 911 call from the couple’s home at approximately 2:30 p.m. Saturday and found “Jane” unresponsive. It appeared as though her boyfriend had beaten her, and City Police were called in to investigate, Police said.

“John” and “Jane” were the only people at the house. Police said “John” admitted to hitting “Jane”, but didn’t know what started the argument.
The couple had known each other all of their lives and had been living together for about two years.

“John” was employed at (Name removed), but “Jane” hasn’t worked consistently since her son died in 2002.

“Jane's” 3-year-old son, (Name removed), was severely beaten and dumped in the woods about 300 yards from his home 4 years ago.
Her boyfriend at the time, was charged with the boy’s murder.

Police spokeswoman said “Jane”, who previously worked at the hospital in our Medium Size City, had been suffering from depression since her son’s death, and “Jane’s” sister had been caring for her daughter.

“John” is being held in the Medium Size City Jail. He is expected to be served with a warrant and arraigned in front of a municipal judge at 8 a.m. today.

I tried my best to teach both of my children to never, ever pick on other kids. I taught them to even try and befriend someone they noticed was being picked on mercilessly.

You see, I too wore that "Pick on Me" sign for several years of my childhood. I learned at the very beginning of Junior High to "hold it" to keep from going into the restrooms at our school. The restrooms were a dangerous place to find yourself alone in junior high when I was a kid, so I would wait until I got home every day.

I am so saddened to think of this young woman, a woman my daughter went to school with, dying that way after losing her baby son to an abuser four years earlier. What was it about her that attracted her to this type of man? What was it that made her feel she deserved no less than to be beat on? What made her stay? Is it the same thing that made her pick on other kids when she was young?

I lived with an abuser for 24 years. I know all too well what makes a woman stay like she (and I) did. I got out though.

Friends, teach your kids to be nice. Teach your sons (and daughters) that hitting is NEVER an option, even if you think "Mine would never do that", teach them anyway.

Bullying is a horrible thing. The old diddy I used to hear growing up, "Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones but Names Will Never Hurt Me" is not true either. The scars they leave are sometimes permanent.

And please, teach your daughters they deserve better.

I hope Jane and her son are rocking this very moment in one of Jesus' big ole rocking chairs. Rest in peace Jane.

Women Who Grow Beards ...Just For The Fun Of It

Gosh!
Durn!!

If I cursed, I’d say more.

I have just read a post on a blog

http://neonataldoc.blogspot.com/2006/11/moustache.html

that I read every single day. I love the blog. I have learned a lot from this guy’s posts. But durn....I am appalled this morning.

On this post, he wonders if one of his NICU babies’ mom could not have done something to “hide” her mustache. Gee....wonder if she hasn’t thought of that?

I wonder if she has never noticed the stares or the snickers the goobers of the world have sent her direction? Reckon she doesn’t KNOW she has facial hair that is usually reserved for the opposite sex?

Come on fellow earthly humans....do you really believe for a minute that women with hirsutism ENJOY having it!?!?!

When I met my oh so handsome husband 6 years ago, I was terrified at the thought of the first time he ever stroked my face. Petrified by the worry of what he would think when he finally did. I thank God that he was not shallow like a lot of seemingly intelligent people seem to be, otherwise he would not have gotten to know me. He would not have hung around and grown to love me. He would not have proposed and married me 3 years ago. He would not have seen the woman behind the hair.

I have had a beard since I was 17 years old. You remember....17...a time when what people thought of you meant so blooming much? I also have broad shoulders and other characteristics more suitable for a man. I didn’t ASK for them, but I have them.

I did NOT put in my order to have junk going on that would cause snickers and stares and comments to be made toward me, but I got them. I didn’t request it take me five years to conceive, but it did. I didn’t ask for the other maladies that go along with PCOS but I have them.

Would these same goobers laugh and poke fun of a woman who was born missing an arm? Would they laugh at the guy who was born blind? Those things are just as “different” as a woman with hirsutism.

You know one thing though? There is one very important thing I learned from having hirsutism that presented itself at such an early age...you will NEVER, EVER hear me make fun of another person. Not for any reason. It never ceases to amaze me how some very intelligent and otherwise nice people can be so....well....ignorant.


PS...To Kelley - Hon I have thought no more about anyone who commented on that post. I promise. At my age, I have learned to take such things with a grain of salt because a lot of time words are take then wrong way, etc. I hope your dear son never has to hear or see any crude people as he ventures out into the world, but chances are he will. His mom will prepare him and help him to see when someone is being kind of ignorant about his disabilities, that they are the ones with the problems, not him. Take care.

To Wendy Lou....Thank you for your kind words. I am so glad the lazer worked well for you. I would willing to bet my last dollar that your lessons in life have led to a kind, caring lady. Next time someone mentions you're "spoiled"...just grin and let them think you are. Leave 'em guessing!