I saw this while checking out newspapers on the internet recently:
COLUMBIA, S.C. -- A man is dead and a woman injured after a shooting Wednesday outside a mall in Columbia. Police said the shooting happened around 6:45 p.m. in the parking lot in front of the mall's main entrance.
Columbia Police Chief Dean Crisp said a man who was stalking a woman confronted her at the mall, then followed her into the parking lot. He said the man then shot the woman and her father. Authorities say the 49-year-old father of the young woman was shot several times and died at the scene.
The daughter was taken to the hospital, where she was able to talk to investigators. Police have not released her name.
Police identified the shooter as 21-year-old “John Doe”, who was free on bond after being arrested last week and charged with stalking the woman. Police say “Doe” was last seen driving away in a green Honda Accord.
Did you get the second to last sentence??? The one where it says he was free on bond after being arrested LAST FRIGGING WEEK for stalking this woman!?!?!
Do ya have any idea how many women die holding a restraining order in their hands?
I don't even know how to respond...there are not even words. I was stalked when I ended a 24 year marriage. My situation was not taken seriously either, fortunately, my daddy is still alive.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
F-ing Mad and Smashing F-ing China
I have a hard time differentiating between a “blah” day or two, and the beginnings of my medication losing its’ effectiveness.
For 4 or 5 days out of the past week or so, tears have been a constant part of my days. My anger level is at full throttle. I have always been quick to tears, but until the past few years, say 5 or 6, I NEVER had an anger problem.
When I get angry it is almost always over stupid, non-anger worthy situations. It explodes out of the blue too! There is rarely ever a warning, such as I was already having a shoddy day, or “he had already pushed my last button” or anything like that. No this anger just explodes from a place I didn’t even know existed.
I don’t hit or yell at people or throw things, but there is an absolute burning desire to cuss, especially the F word, and to break something. I have often wondered how it would feel to just intentionally smash a dish or a glass or something. I generally don’t curse and I’ve never been a thrower or a hitter, but I cannot stress how powerful this urge is when it hits.
From what I have written you might not believe me, but I am about as nice as they come. I smile at everyone whose glance meets mine... I will stop and let traffic in if it is not presenting a danger to others for me to do so... If you only have an item or two in the grocery store I will let you ahead of me in line… I take home any stray animals... I’ve paid for someone’s items if they got to the register and ran out of money…but for all that kindness, there are times I want to just SCREAM as LOUD and as long as I can the most horrible curse words there are while at the same time smashing china against a tree, or a person, depending on the circumstances.
I’ve tried twice now to tell my shrink I think I am bipolar, that it is not strictly depression I suffer from. Do I sound bipolar?
For 4 or 5 days out of the past week or so, tears have been a constant part of my days. My anger level is at full throttle. I have always been quick to tears, but until the past few years, say 5 or 6, I NEVER had an anger problem.
When I get angry it is almost always over stupid, non-anger worthy situations. It explodes out of the blue too! There is rarely ever a warning, such as I was already having a shoddy day, or “he had already pushed my last button” or anything like that. No this anger just explodes from a place I didn’t even know existed.
I don’t hit or yell at people or throw things, but there is an absolute burning desire to cuss, especially the F word, and to break something. I have often wondered how it would feel to just intentionally smash a dish or a glass or something. I generally don’t curse and I’ve never been a thrower or a hitter, but I cannot stress how powerful this urge is when it hits.
From what I have written you might not believe me, but I am about as nice as they come. I smile at everyone whose glance meets mine... I will stop and let traffic in if it is not presenting a danger to others for me to do so... If you only have an item or two in the grocery store I will let you ahead of me in line… I take home any stray animals... I’ve paid for someone’s items if they got to the register and ran out of money…but for all that kindness, there are times I want to just SCREAM as LOUD and as long as I can the most horrible curse words there are while at the same time smashing china against a tree, or a person, depending on the circumstances.
I’ve tried twice now to tell my shrink I think I am bipolar, that it is not strictly depression I suffer from. Do I sound bipolar?
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
NAMI - Opening My Eyes
I attended a 3 day facilitator training seminar recently presented by NAMI -the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill.
NAMI is the nation’s largest grassroots mental health organization dedicated to improving the lives of persons living with serious mental illness and their families. Founded in 1979, NAMI has become the nation’s voice on mental illness, a national organization including NAMI organizations in every state and in over 1100 local communities across the country who join together to meet the NAMI mission through advocacy, research, support, and education.
NAMI is the nation’s largest grassroots mental health organization dedicated to improving the lives of persons living with serious mental illness and their families. Founded in 1979, NAMI has become the nation’s voice on mental illness, a national organization including NAMI organizations in every state and in over 1100 local communities across the country who join together to meet the NAMI mission through advocacy, research, support, and education.
As you know, I have dealt with severe depression for years (since 1992). I felt 3-4 years ago God was calling me to address this illness in the church and in other faith based ministries. It is an often ignored and/or misunderstood illness and statistically speaking there are many people (one in 4 according to the National Institute of Mental Health) who, JUST LIKE I DID, sit in pews week after week afraid to ask for help because of the stigma attached.
That stigma will never go away (which means less people will seek help) unless we who have the illness are willing to speak up about it and share our experience. Who better to be able to seek support from than our brothers and sisters in Christ? They first much understand a little of what mental illness is though...and what it is not.
This weekend really opened my eyes. I have never been around other people who have, or talk about having any type of mental illness. I've never attended "group therapy" sessions and had never heard other people say the exact same things that I have thought silently for years! (I was also left wondering if my true diagnosis should not be bipolar rather than major depression, but if and/or when my meds stop working again, I’ll deal with that then.)
I contacted NAMI about 3 weeks ago because of my desire to help remove this stigma, at least among the Christian community. Shortly afterward I was invited to attend this seminar free of charge! We had National speakers and I was there from that Friday morning at 8 am until Sunday at 2:30 pm - all free of charge. I was able to take that Friday off with a minimum of "painful whining " by my boss. I just can't help but believe this has all fallen together like this because God allowed it. I believe he put this passion inside me for other people who are hurting and ashamed.
I took a spiritual gifts test recently also. My highest score was Mercy. My second was teaching. That is just further assurance that this is something I can indeed do. I have put this off all this time for several reasons, fear, the anxiety I have had in public, not being sure it was God's voice I was hearing, etc. I guess now I have just decided if I wait until I am 100 % sure, I will go to Heaven one day having never done a thing to help anyone in this area.
Just want to let you all know what is going on in my world. Those who pray, pray that I will not be afraid or let the anxiety stand in the way of helping to tear down this wall that hinders so many people from seeking help.
Friday, June 01, 2007
I am going to attempt to begin blogging again. I have been stable on meds now for about 8 weeks and if this continues, I will be happier than a pig in mud.
Geese, Goslings and Anatomy Oh My!!
Outside my office, is a huge pond. I have worked there for 7 years now and have watched every January as the same pair of geese come back and begin finding and preparing a nest. I have watched them use a huge clump of pampas grass (ouch). I have watched them use a big planter that has long ago given up the ghost for whatever plant had lived in it. Usually, wherever they make their nest, there is no "roof". By March, they are sitting and by late April or early May, there are goslings galore!
This pair of geese knows me. I personally think all animals "know" an animal person, but these two definitely know me. I am always the first person in the parking lot of our office complex. The geese recognize my car. They know it is time for breakfast when I drive in. I have often wondered if they wait expectantly for me on the weekends and if so how long before they give up and call me bad words.
This time, the pair hatched out 5 babies. That is pretty much average for these two. If you have never watched geese live out their lives, allow me to fill you in on some things I didn't know before I went to work there.
Someone, be it the Mr or the Mrs, is always sitting on those eggs. If it rains, or storms, someone is always sitting on those eggs. If it turns out like this year, and we have a really cold spell surprise us in the middle of spring, someone will be sitting on those eggs.
In case I haven't mentioned it, someone is sitting on those eggs 24-7. They take turns. The female does the majority of the sitting, but a couple of times a day she will get off the nest and get in the pond and splash around and find her something to eat and he will sit while she is gone.
Mr and Mrs are also very, very territorial. Very territorial. If another pair of geese even come flying in as if to "think" about landing on the pond, they start honking and hollering and will run the trespassing pair off. Same for any ducks that might get too close, although they will allow the ducks to live on the pond, just not near the nest. The other geese on the other hand...NO HOW NO WAY are the staying anywhere on the property. That’s just the rules.
Usually each year, they will hatch between 4 and 7 goslings. Generally I have noticed they will lose one or two, usually to the mean, humongous, gross turtles that live in the pond. I mean these monsters are probably 80 pounds. The kind I used to watch my grandfather cook. I have actually seen them be snatched and pulled under the water never to be seen again by the turtles. Horrible to see and there is absolutely nothing you can do when it happens. Mr and Mrs get all loud and scurry the remaining babies away to shallower water where the turtles are less likely to hang out, but for that one it is too late.
I have also come driving up in the mornings and see the entire family just pecking away at the white line on the 4 lane hiway we're located on. I hear the horns honking and I just wait to hear a horrible noise. When I drive up if I see the on the roads edge, I just sit on my horn. Mostly they just ignore me.
Today, I noticed there were only 3 babies with the parents. They are a little old now - if any are going to die they usually do so before they get this old, so I was surprised. Later on in the day, I saw the 4th gosling. He was honking and swimming furiously towards his family. Something was wrong though. Mr and Mrs would not let him get close. They were actually hissing at him and chasing him off, like they do the trespassers. I walked out to get a better look at him.
He was barely swimming, and he was dragging his right leg behind him. He tried and tried to get back to his family, to get back in line with the other funny looking teenagers, but again his parents ran him off hatefully (in my opinion).
I was heartbroken. I have always been a sucker for the underdog, and this was one if I had ever seen one. He was perfectly healthy just yesterday. They had come up and ate both times yesterday when I fed them.
They always eat out of my hand. They hiss at strangers, even at the two men who work in the office with me, but they eat out of my hand. If I sit down on the ground, the babies will actually crawl in my lap. I have watched the men go all the way around the long way to get to the door because the parents will stand there and hiss at them and threaten them when the babies are young but they have always been very cordial to me. They know from whence forth their vanilla wafers come!
When I got off work this afternoon, I went looking for the injured baby. I soon found him, lying by the bank, his leg laid out behind him. His family no where in sight. No way was I going to leave that baby there to be eaten or starve over the weekend, so I just grabbed him up and wrapped him in a towel I keep in the boot of my car for just such occasions.
He was obviously in pain. I hated to hurt him, but if I left him there he would just die...alone. All the way home, every time I turned a corner or put on the brake, he would honk in pain. We were both in tears by time we got home.
All the way home I was thinking what my plan of action would be. Clean the wounds - by now I was able to see something had grabbed him on the leg in two different places. One up near his hiny where his leg was attached and the webbed part of his foot, where he was missing one "toe" and another was hanging on by a thread. I decided to try to medicate him for pain before trying to clean him, so guessing (there was NOTHING on Google about medicating an injured duck) I decided to try some liquid Tylenol PM.
I drew up about 1 tsp into a syringe (again bought for just such occasions as this - and yes I do pull over and get out to help turtles cross the road) and proceeded to open his beak and insert it in the side and pushed about 1/4th in. He immediately being choking and gasping. At once I realized what I must have done. I didn't stop to think about the anatomy being different than that of other small animals I had saved. It never once occurred to me I might be pushing it into his lungs or his trachea, but obviously that is exactly what I had done. He was dead within a minute and a half. Died right there in my arms.
Would he have died had I not caused him to aspirate the medicine? Probably. Would he have suffered or starved to death? Maybe. Could I possibly feel any more like shit than I do? Definitely not.
Geese, Goslings and Anatomy Oh My!!
Outside my office, is a huge pond. I have worked there for 7 years now and have watched every January as the same pair of geese come back and begin finding and preparing a nest. I have watched them use a huge clump of pampas grass (ouch). I have watched them use a big planter that has long ago given up the ghost for whatever plant had lived in it. Usually, wherever they make their nest, there is no "roof". By March, they are sitting and by late April or early May, there are goslings galore!
This pair of geese knows me. I personally think all animals "know" an animal person, but these two definitely know me. I am always the first person in the parking lot of our office complex. The geese recognize my car. They know it is time for breakfast when I drive in. I have often wondered if they wait expectantly for me on the weekends and if so how long before they give up and call me bad words.
This time, the pair hatched out 5 babies. That is pretty much average for these two. If you have never watched geese live out their lives, allow me to fill you in on some things I didn't know before I went to work there.
Someone, be it the Mr or the Mrs, is always sitting on those eggs. If it rains, or storms, someone is always sitting on those eggs. If it turns out like this year, and we have a really cold spell surprise us in the middle of spring, someone will be sitting on those eggs.
In case I haven't mentioned it, someone is sitting on those eggs 24-7. They take turns. The female does the majority of the sitting, but a couple of times a day she will get off the nest and get in the pond and splash around and find her something to eat and he will sit while she is gone.
Mr and Mrs are also very, very territorial. Very territorial. If another pair of geese even come flying in as if to "think" about landing on the pond, they start honking and hollering and will run the trespassing pair off. Same for any ducks that might get too close, although they will allow the ducks to live on the pond, just not near the nest. The other geese on the other hand...NO HOW NO WAY are the staying anywhere on the property. That’s just the rules.
Usually each year, they will hatch between 4 and 7 goslings. Generally I have noticed they will lose one or two, usually to the mean, humongous, gross turtles that live in the pond. I mean these monsters are probably 80 pounds. The kind I used to watch my grandfather cook. I have actually seen them be snatched and pulled under the water never to be seen again by the turtles. Horrible to see and there is absolutely nothing you can do when it happens. Mr and Mrs get all loud and scurry the remaining babies away to shallower water where the turtles are less likely to hang out, but for that one it is too late.
I have also come driving up in the mornings and see the entire family just pecking away at the white line on the 4 lane hiway we're located on. I hear the horns honking and I just wait to hear a horrible noise. When I drive up if I see the on the roads edge, I just sit on my horn. Mostly they just ignore me.
Today, I noticed there were only 3 babies with the parents. They are a little old now - if any are going to die they usually do so before they get this old, so I was surprised. Later on in the day, I saw the 4th gosling. He was honking and swimming furiously towards his family. Something was wrong though. Mr and Mrs would not let him get close. They were actually hissing at him and chasing him off, like they do the trespassers. I walked out to get a better look at him.
He was barely swimming, and he was dragging his right leg behind him. He tried and tried to get back to his family, to get back in line with the other funny looking teenagers, but again his parents ran him off hatefully (in my opinion).
I was heartbroken. I have always been a sucker for the underdog, and this was one if I had ever seen one. He was perfectly healthy just yesterday. They had come up and ate both times yesterday when I fed them.
They always eat out of my hand. They hiss at strangers, even at the two men who work in the office with me, but they eat out of my hand. If I sit down on the ground, the babies will actually crawl in my lap. I have watched the men go all the way around the long way to get to the door because the parents will stand there and hiss at them and threaten them when the babies are young but they have always been very cordial to me. They know from whence forth their vanilla wafers come!
When I got off work this afternoon, I went looking for the injured baby. I soon found him, lying by the bank, his leg laid out behind him. His family no where in sight. No way was I going to leave that baby there to be eaten or starve over the weekend, so I just grabbed him up and wrapped him in a towel I keep in the boot of my car for just such occasions.
He was obviously in pain. I hated to hurt him, but if I left him there he would just die...alone. All the way home, every time I turned a corner or put on the brake, he would honk in pain. We were both in tears by time we got home.
All the way home I was thinking what my plan of action would be. Clean the wounds - by now I was able to see something had grabbed him on the leg in two different places. One up near his hiny where his leg was attached and the webbed part of his foot, where he was missing one "toe" and another was hanging on by a thread. I decided to try to medicate him for pain before trying to clean him, so guessing (there was NOTHING on Google about medicating an injured duck) I decided to try some liquid Tylenol PM.
I drew up about 1 tsp into a syringe (again bought for just such occasions as this - and yes I do pull over and get out to help turtles cross the road) and proceeded to open his beak and insert it in the side and pushed about 1/4th in. He immediately being choking and gasping. At once I realized what I must have done. I didn't stop to think about the anatomy being different than that of other small animals I had saved. It never once occurred to me I might be pushing it into his lungs or his trachea, but obviously that is exactly what I had done. He was dead within a minute and a half. Died right there in my arms.
Would he have died had I not caused him to aspirate the medicine? Probably. Would he have suffered or starved to death? Maybe. Could I possibly feel any more like shit than I do? Definitely not.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
It is raining today. Pouring really hard. During my lunch break, I drove a mile up the road and parked in an empty parking lot. It is so hard to sit in the office all day and not cry, so sometimes for that hour I just go someplace and cry where no one will notice.
I love the rain. Always have loved the sound of it hitting the roof, even the roof of a car. I always wanted a piece of tin outside my bedroom window for the rain to hit but have never managed to actually get out and get one.
Most of my memories as a child include the rain. The smells ... the sounds. I spent a lot of time as a kid laying on the floor between my bed and the wall reading. We had an attic fan and it would pull the cooler air in through the windows and laying there on the floor it would blow right over me. (It was also a good place to be in the house but be "out of sight out of mind" . Sometimes in my house the more invisible you could make yourself the safer you were.) If it was raining and no one noticed and turned the fan off, it would pull little droplets of rain in and they would land on me too, cooling me off in that southern humid summer heat that is like no other kind. My kids have no clue what it is like to not have air conditioning. I hope they never have to find out either!
Back when my children were in school, I loved nothing more on a rainy day than to hurry and finish up all the housework and cooking so I could lay across the bed and read. My old Daschund abhorred the rain. Could not STAND to go out to pee when it was raining. She would stay in that nice, soft warm waterbed most of the day, under the covers. When I would lay down, she would grunt and get up and walk over to me and flop back down with her back against mine.
I still like to lay across the bed and listen to the rain - the biggest difference is I can no longer lay there and read, I just drop off to sleep. My old weenie dog has long passed away years ago at the age of 13, and now there is Thomas, my 2 year old mixed breed mutt, but the warmth of his non-judgemental rolly-polly body is just as welcome.
Sometimes I think sleeping is my drug of choice...my way of escape. There are no calories and you can't get arrested for driving afterwards. If I lived alone, I wouldn't even feel guilty for it.
I love the rain. Always have loved the sound of it hitting the roof, even the roof of a car. I always wanted a piece of tin outside my bedroom window for the rain to hit but have never managed to actually get out and get one.
Most of my memories as a child include the rain. The smells ... the sounds. I spent a lot of time as a kid laying on the floor between my bed and the wall reading. We had an attic fan and it would pull the cooler air in through the windows and laying there on the floor it would blow right over me. (It was also a good place to be in the house but be "out of sight out of mind" . Sometimes in my house the more invisible you could make yourself the safer you were.) If it was raining and no one noticed and turned the fan off, it would pull little droplets of rain in and they would land on me too, cooling me off in that southern humid summer heat that is like no other kind. My kids have no clue what it is like to not have air conditioning. I hope they never have to find out either!
Back when my children were in school, I loved nothing more on a rainy day than to hurry and finish up all the housework and cooking so I could lay across the bed and read. My old Daschund abhorred the rain. Could not STAND to go out to pee when it was raining. She would stay in that nice, soft warm waterbed most of the day, under the covers. When I would lay down, she would grunt and get up and walk over to me and flop back down with her back against mine.
I still like to lay across the bed and listen to the rain - the biggest difference is I can no longer lay there and read, I just drop off to sleep. My old weenie dog has long passed away years ago at the age of 13, and now there is Thomas, my 2 year old mixed breed mutt, but the warmth of his non-judgemental rolly-polly body is just as welcome.
Sometimes I think sleeping is my drug of choice...my way of escape. There are no calories and you can't get arrested for driving afterwards. If I lived alone, I wouldn't even feel guilty for it.
Friday, February 23, 2007
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
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
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
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.
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.
I have lived with this “Black Dog” (thanks, Dr. Dork,
(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.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
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?
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?
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
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.
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!!
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, December 18, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, December 15, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
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?
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?
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
