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Ok, my blog looks like hell, but at least i'm back on line again. The move is also mostly over and the new house is good....except for the little squirrel issues. I'll explain that the next chance I get to blog.
In the meantime: Hugs to all.
11:59 PM - 2007-Sep-28 - {8} -
Wild, eh? I'm hanging in here, just waiting to see what happens.
Same as my off-line life:
Here goes:
We had a hail storm on June 8th.
I have been buying this house via land contract for about 1 1/2 years (I've lived here since 2002) and I paid the property taxes, and insurance. I kept bugging the lady selling me the house (up until recently I'd never really dealt with her - her husband was the only one I'd met, but they got a divorce) about the insurance, because she wanted to keep it at Nationwide, I wanted to put it at State Farm where I have my own (for the multi-everything discount) insurance. In any case, I wanted it in my name, which is what NORMALLY happens with land contracts. She kept saying she'd call her insurance agent, blah blah blah....stall, stall, then I got sick.
I had agreed to a monthly payment that was mortgage + insurance. I was expected to pay the taxes as they were due. I told her I preferred to break the taxes out monthly and send it in, like a pretend escrow account, so that I wouldn't have a big bill come due.
In Nov./Dec. I did not send in the tax money. I told her that I would send it with my Jan payment, and catch up (in plenty of times to pay the taxes) . She acted sort of pissed, and I had to REMIND her that *I* was the one who wanted to pre-pay, but I wasn't under an obligation to do so.
In Jan. when I was in the early stages of being sick when I started to develop mental confusion and memory issues (it was still up in the air whether I had lupus or MS at that point) I wrote her a check for the usual, then remembered about the Nov/Dec taxes, and re-wrote the check.
I then put both checks in the damn envelope and mailed it. They were both clearly annotated as to what they were for....but she cashed them both. My account went MAJORLY red, and I was $400 in the hole in the end. I still don't understand why she didn't call me when she got two checks in one evelope and no note, but hey.....
I called her, and she claimed not to remember two checks. (She's a goddamn loan manager in a bank!) I told her I could pull up the cancelled checks if she wanted and print it out, but she said, "No, never mind." And then she got pissy again when I tried to sort it out with her, adjusting my future mortgage paymen to make up the difference. She eventually came to terms, but she did not sound happy....
I called her right after the hail storm and told her. EVERYBODY for streets around me has hail damage, and nearly every single house has had a new roof and new siding.
She didn't call her insurance. She sent her ex out, who walked around quickly, without climbing up and said that it looked okay.
We then had rain, and the rain eventually came THROUGH the roof, into my kitchen, all over the damn floor and counter, through the one light, etc.
I called her again, and she must have called her ex, who called some roofers he knew, who showed up unannounced and climbed all over the roof for a little while doing something. They left without a word to us.
Then the roof leaked in the living room, and some of the ceiling tiles are bowing in. The roof in my daughter's room leaked in two spots. I have damage down in the basement and there is water damage along the whole wall of the room that attaches the garage to the couch, and there is a soft spot in the floor of the kitchen that is gradually spreading....and my water breaker keeps resetting itself, or we have to reset the breaker, and the lights in the bathroom aren't working properly. My bedroom light is in about the same state.
She finally called Nationwide who sent a casualty expert, who approved a shitload of repairs but said he'd wait on the electrician that needed to come out. She sort of looked at the estimates we'd gotten from contractors, said she would call the one we liked best, and left, taking everything with her.
Nothing. Well, next to nothing. She called Herself, told her "Rick" was coming over to fix the electric. Rick didn't fix the electric, Rick looked at it, to give her an estimate. He was also surprised to learn that we were told he was going to handle the other repairs. He had no idea.
Listen: Hear that sound? Crickets.
Nothing, and it's been 3 weeks.
We're getting the hell out of here. It also occurred to me that I never got the proper tax forms so that I could take the property taxes/insurance/interest off my taxes, like I should have....I rather bet SHE took the deduction. (Frankly, I didn't need the deduction, but that doesn't mean she's entitled to it if I am paying for it.)
I also should be the one choosing the contractor, etc. I suspect what she's going to do is do minimal patch jobs on the roof, electric, floor and say she'll finish the rest in spring. There's mold from hell in the wall, floor, ceiling.
We're out of here....asap. And I'm taking her to small claims for the tax and insurance money.
I
7:09 PM - 2007-Sep-19 - {3} -
Ok, what the heck? All my old posts were back, and today I got here and had to re-register! Arrrggh! I'm so confused.
How do I get my old posts back???
2:39 PM - 2007-Sep-19 - {3} -
Swiped and altered from: http://slayerbarbie.efx2.com/view/10...ther-Meme/ Slayerbarbie, who rocks!
1. What happened between the last girlfriend/ boyfriend? Boyfriend? Uh, I realized I really didn't have a sexual interest in men, even if they were rich, polite, Turkish, dark, handsome, and generous. Besides, he was still stuck on his ex wife and very confused. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been dating a lesbian, right? *grin* Girlfriend? The term "psycho killer" comes to mind but I'm not sure she actually has killed anyone...just plotted it. What happened is that she moved out of state before we got really deep, we got really deep via long distance which let her carefully cultivate the "persona" and face she wanted me to see/believe, and then when I actually spent real time with her the persona cracked, shattered, blew. She freaked. I balked and pulled back and instead of working things out she decided she couldn't deal with her family finding out she was gay so she went and hooked up with a guy. Then she showed up on my doorstep and freaked again because I'd moved on. Go figure.
2. How many girlfriends/ boyfriends have told you they loved you? I'm not sure. More than I said I loved back. I don't say it lightly and think about it really carefully before I do say it. There were at least a couple I came to realize that I loved that really didn't love me back, no matter what was actually said.
3. Have you ever thought that you were going to marry a person? Sheesh. I was engaged 4 different times in college. I called them all off except the last one, and I should have bailed then, but I was still in shock over my grandmother's death. Besides...since he was gay (even though he hadn't admitted it yet) I think I felt safe enough to go ahead there. I also thought I was going to marry pscho girlfriend. I did marry Herself, even if it isn't legal in this state, yet, but I'll marry her again and again if I have to until it's legal everywhere.
4. Do you hate your last boyfriend/girlfriend?
Nope. Hate is wasted on people who are too crazy to realize they are that nasty and mean. Hate's probably usually wasted, but sometimes it makes me feel better for a little while at least....I just don't hold onto hate that well. (When I do...watch out.)
5. Have you ever liked someone so much that it hurt?
Yes. Herself.
6. Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend mad?
Do you mean "angry" mad? or "mad as a Hatter" mad? Both, in any case. In the first place, it's always passed. In the second place, I refuse to take responsibility for their personal insanity...however when I did make that person who was already crazy-mad angry-mad, I thought I was a dead woman....
7. Are you happier single or in a relationship?
In. I'm the marrying kind. I just took a while to realize I wasn't the heterosexual kind. I feel happiest and most complete every night, right before sleep, when I curl up next to her, and she puts her arm around my waist, and we snuggle down tight. Everything seems right with the world at that moment, no matter what is going on.
8. Ever dated anyone with an STD?
Not to my knowledge. However, both Herself and I got tested because we trusted our last relationships about as far as you can throw a mountian....
9. Have you ever had your heart broken?
Shattered. Psycho girlfriend tore me to pieces. One minute I was all she wanted, the next minute she was debating whether or not we could work out because my grocery shopping habits differed from hers. One minute I was everything she needed, the next I was giving her nothing she either needed or wanted.
I probably broke a few hearts too...but at least I know I was straight up about it: Once I knew where my feelings were I played no head games, made no excuses, cast no blame. Just tried to talk it through and stay friends if possible.
10. Have you ever broken someone's heart?
Probably. I don't know for certian, but I think so. However, I was the sort of gal that stayed friends with most ex's. One guy though (who was really just a friend with benefits, and he knew it or should have known it because we both said it) seemed to take it verrryy personally when I got with Herself.
11. Think any of your ex's feel the same?
I have no idea. Some, probably. The recent ones? No...that would require thinking about someone other than themselves for a minute.
12. Do you believe that you are a good boyfriend or girlfriend?
Yup. I dote, but I don't smother. I listen. A lot.
13. Have you dated people who were not good to you?
See above. I have dated people that were nearly fatal to me.
15. Have you dated someone older than you?
Men, yes. Women, no.
16. Do you believe people deserve a second chance?
Depends. Often, yes. Other times, give me a pitchfork and a torch, baby, and I'm there.
17. Do you believe in love at first sight?
Yes. I also believe people are often too dense to realize it when it happens.
18. Do you want to get married?
Yes, if the motherfucker's that run this country will ever let me.
19. Does heart break really feel as bad as it’s said to be?
Only time I've ever wished I was dead.
20. Would you believe your ex if she/he said they love you?
No. I don't think my ex knows what she feels. I think she cultivates a persona that she even keeps up to herself as much as possible.
21. Would you date your best male/female friend?
Yes. I'm "married" to her as much as I can get married to her right now.
22. Have any of your ex's called you by a nickname after the break up? Does "that bitch..." count? Heh. No. But Herself has. And always a nickname she HATES oddly enough.
23. Do you regret any of your relationships?
Only one. I should have skipped the marriage to Psycho Boy. The rest were part of a learning process. The marriage to him was just a waste of time, energy, life.
2:52 PM - 2007-Sep-1 - {0} -
It's probably easiest to start in the middle:
Drugs: I switched from prednisone to kenalog IM. I'll take the injections every 3 days, and hopefully it'll a.) not make me as psycho as I've been lately, and b.) help with the whole weight issues.
We were going to Solumedrol, but Doc. T.'s used kenalog more outside of hospitals and longer term, so we sort of discussed it and decided to give it a go.
The bright spot so far: I didn't wake up feeling like Death on a Stick. Or Death in Desperate Need of a Stick to Hold Onto. I took the prednisone in the a.m., because all steroids fuck with your sleep, so the idea was that I would get the big jolt during the early part of the day, then wind down. Hah. They forgot to mention that I'd be so deep in withdrawl by the next morning I'd have to crawl up the steps to get my next dose. A coffee I.V. wouldn't help.
Since the kenalog is I.M. it's steadier in my system, without the drastic rushes and let downs.
Drugs, part 2: Did I ever mention that something like 37% of people with CNS Lupus develop prednisone psychosis if on a large dose for a long time? No? Ah, that would be because I didn't know. The big tip off you are going there is that you start to get reeeeaaalllyyy paranoid. As in, "What the hell are you looking at me like that for, bitch?" paranoid, when the bitch in question is the checkout girl at the supermarket. Trying to check you out. Another good clue is that you suspect the border collie of conspiring with the cockapoo next door...about something...anything...it doesn't matter.
This med change better work.
Relatives: The Pod People attack. It's a stupidly long story, but Evil Aunt Joan is back. The bitch crowned herself Queen of Thanksgiving some centuries ago, and when Herself and I got together there were all sorts of drama and trauma. Basically: the reasons Evil Aunt gives for her actions vary from minute to minute but I'm not welcome, yet my wife is EXPECTED to be at Thanksgiving. It didn't happen, I got blamed, we moved on, have enjoyed the last few years nicely thank you very much and have had no further contact with Evil Aunt.
Evil Aunt did more to fuck with Herself's head than any other two people combined: mother, abusive spouses, etc., whatever. Evil Aunt is malicious, nasty, horrible, and that's the nicest things I can say about her. For a while, Herself's mother wasn't talking to Evil Aunt (her sister) either, but now for whatever reason (Uh, Mother is bored, and Evil Aunt is bored, and they can create enough drama between them to stay entertained?) they're all talking again, and somehow Herself is bad, wrong, mean, horrible, whatever, for not joining the party. I'm still not welcome. Nor are our children.
Well, E.A. sent messages through a few sources instructing Herself to call. Herself hasn't. E.A. finally called Herself (and if I find out who gave her the cell number I will kick their ass if I have to borrow somebody else's leg to do it with...). Herself was startled, said she couldn't talk, she'd call her back. She had no intention of calling her back. We talked this through because we both know she's going to get put under a bunch of pressure to play along nicely.
Anynhow, E.A. called about 2 hours ago, and I answered the phone.
"Hello." I knew the number. I kept my voice neutral.
"Well, you didn't call like you said you were going to so I thought I'd call you," E.A. starts.
"I'm sorry, who is this?" I knew. I was just fucking with her. For fun.
Pause. "This isn't *Herself*?"
"No. It isn't. Who is this?"
"Can I speak with Herself?"
"Who is calling please?" I can tell she's pissed off now, because she doesn't like answering questions, only posing them.
"This is her Aunt Joan."
"I'm sorry, she isn't accepting your calls," I said, sweetly. I enjoyed saying this, so it was easy to be sweet.
"She's not accepting my calls?!?" sputters the Evil One.
"She is not accepting your calls."
"Well you do me a favor (WHAT? You have GOT to be kidding, bitch!?!?), and tell her not to do something she's going to regret..." starts Evil Aunt, which just pisses me off, because that's the sort of vague crap my mother would say...to try to terrify me about some vague something that I might fuck up in some vague way by not talking to her all important queenly self.
"No. I'm not passing messages."
"Well, you tell her I still love her..." she's nearly screetching at me.
"You've got a great way of showing it. Good bye now." I hung up.
I wonder how long it took her to realize it.
I haven't had this much fun in ages.
I'm sure that there'll be a bunch of flurry and fuss about this and I'll be an evil hag once more, but I really don't care. I do care about having to live through more trauma inflicted on Herself if Evil Aunt gets to work on her. Evil Aunt makes my mother look like an amateur when it comes to head games.
Other news:
I'm trying to get caught up. I still don't trust the damn border collie though....
2:33 PM - 2007-Aug-31 - {0} -
The dog just farted, which wouldn't really be that big of a deal, except she's chosen to flop on her back next to me on the couch with her asshole pretty much glaring me in the face. And it stinks.
On the bright side, it's probably the only thing keeping me conscious enough to blog right now. If the methane doesn't kill me, I may get this done without falling asleep while typing....which has been my trick the last few nights.
I had a meltdown. This damn prednisone isn't giving me mood swings: it's installed a brand new mother-fucking whole goddamn mood playground in my head and yesterday sometime I decided to lose it. Herself didn't know whether to commit my ass, try to hold me, or just quietly put all the knives out of reach. Thank god tomorrow is the final dose before I switch to the solumedrol IM.
I'm exhausted....I was going to post longer, but ..well, damn. This dog is farting up a storm and I'm dying over here! I'd fart back if I thought it would do any good.
Nite all...
1:00 AM - 2007-Aug-29 - {0} -
Ok, I just totally pissed my mother off in so many different ways I'm starting to lose track.
Cliff notes:
I have relatives I keep in touch with (like Aunt A) and relatives I don't but still like (Cousin P) and relatives that I force myself to keep in touch with because I either don't really like them (Aunt M) or because I feel like I should...I don't dislike them, but we aren't what I'd call close. I try to call once in a while.
Aunt A is mother's youngest sister and Aunt M is mother's oldest sister. Aunt A and Aunt M do not speak. They haven't spoken for long periods of time, as far back as I remember, but now Aunt M is in a nursing home along with my creepy Uncle J (her husband) and because Aunt M is...well, basically a nosey, mean spirited, big mouthed bitch, Aunt A said, "Fuck off and don't call me." And she won't be at the funeral, either. (When she says that, she means it.) Mother volunteers at the nursing home Aunt M is in, and has pretty much let Aunt M run her life for the last several years, demanding this or that.
Aunt A knows I was sick, am sick, is totally supportive and doesn't realize that Mother believes I am faking or malingering or just whining. She doesn't know because Mother isn't stupid: she knows Aunt A likes me and wouldn't buy it.
Weeeelll, apparently Mother has NEVER said a word to Aunt M that I was sick, in the hospital, nearly died, am still sick, have CNS Lupus, whatever. Not a word. And here I went and called Aunt M this past week while Mother was out of town and when Aunt M asked how I was, I told her.
Aunt M is the PERFECT person to tell something to if you want my Mother to be grilled about details and if you want EVERYBODY knowing your business. Which means that all her nursing home friends will now be asking about me.
Which means Mother will either: A) have to be polite and answer questions as if she really believes I'm sick (which she doesn't), or B) answer questions with the truth as she sees it (I'm a malingering, whiney, lazy, manipulative bitch)...which then, of course, in her mind at least, reflects back on her. Badly.
Can I roll over laughing now???
It gets better. Herself fell, messed up a knee and we had to cancel a bunch of doctor's visits for Friday (today, er...yesterday by the time I finish this). That's not the better part (that's a part that sucks, but it's an even longer story. I bribed Monk with $5 up front with $5 to be paid on completion to check on his Mom every 1/2 hour while I was gone, fetch ice packs, drinks, chocolate, blankets, whatever. He did a great job, too).
The better part is that I called Mother on Thursday after I talked to Aunt M, but before she had, because she and Pop Not where out at the new house for the last four days. If I don't call her periodically, she'll call me. So, I try to plan the calls for when I feel up to it.
She bitched and bitched and bitched. This move is way more work than she expected, and she had some insane notion (I know it) that she'd have a buyer for the house they live in (most of the time) by now. Reality was never her strong suit. She particularly bitched about this old vanity of my sister's that they want my sister to get out of the house right away. I fail to see why this is a critical issue, but she wanted to be vitrolic about it, so I let her. I did say, "Well, Sis has been busy. They call her in for extra shifts and she's managing a lot with the kids. It's a lot to manage and different people handle things differently."
I basically got the lecture that sniped at BOTH my sister and I sideways about how it's NOT that different people handle things differently and it's NOT that Sis has a lot to manage - after all SHE (mother) managed, and Pop Not did extra shifts while we were in school and SHE went to work "MANY A DAY" in "TREMENDOUS PAIN" let her tell you...or me. (She forgets that she was ALWAYS in a two income family, with free day care...my grandmother. But, then again, it's always all about her.)
I didn't mention Aunt M. I DID go into my health issues, med changes, and dental work issues. Mother tries to change the subject, and I go "Uh-huh, well, anyhow..." and go right back. Every time. I figure if I have to talk to her then she has to listen to my medical problems even if she doesn't want to....she can either 1.) Stop calling or expecting me to call, 2.) swallow her hatefulness and listen anyhow, or 3.) finally get the nerve to say directly to me what she's really thinking (and has said behind my back): I'm a liar, malingerer, weak, manipulative bitch who isn't sick at all and just wants attention.
I'll settle for any of the three. 1 is easy. 2 amuses me. 3 would be VERY bloody and I'm holding the knives this time.
Apparently, I did piss her off. Sis pulled up into their driveway as I was on the phone. I got off, quickly sent a heads-up text, and Sis got in and out in 10 minutes, during with my Mother managed to take 3 or 4 snipes at me and "all my ailments" ...Heh.
So...today...Sis had to go get that damn vanity. And I went wtih her (because she also had to meet her ex at the liscense bureau to transfer title of that car that their son wrecked and she didn't want ambushed...Bozo, her ex, is terrified of me. Really.)...which pissed Mother and Pop Not off. He didn't even say hellow.
We never turned off the truck. We got the vanity out of there, which Mother insisted on carrying wiht Pop Not because "she knew what would happen if she let Sis do it" (meaning, Sis is so dumb that she'd drop it on the floor and break it, as well as scratch thier precious kitchen tiles.) She even said, "Would you tell me when you've ever moved anything in your life??" to Sis, which is funny as hell because Sis has moved something like 12 times in 10 years at one point.
We got them all. I KNOW Mother has talked to Aunt M because there was physical, sick malevolence coming off of her. Sis and I can't decide who she wanted to hate at the most: me or her.
It was fuckin' funny as hell..Mother also told Sis to take a box of old dolls, saying, "Well, if you cherish 'tm you'd better get it out of here or they're going to Goodwill." (Turns out, most of the dolls were mine....in particular I'd asked her for several YEARS now if she still had my Tuesday-Wednesday doll with the changeable hair....My gam bought it for me and I had treasured it. It was in the box.)
Sis and I got in, got loaded up, and got out without ever turning the engine of the truck off. We both felt like we needed a shower, and a lot of white sage to clear our energy off of her hate and anger.
But this is the BEST part:
Mother has yet to either notice or jut has chosen not to say anything to my sister about the tat on Sis's writst.
Mother DID however, snarl at me, and point to her own nose, then mine, and say, while rolling her eyes, "What's that thing about anyhow?"
"It would be a nose ring, mother." (Well, actually, it's a stud.) She grabbed at her chest like I was killing her, and rolled her eyes harder, but before she could say anything I said, "Oh, and your mother probably would have flipped out when you got your ears pierced too. Times change."
"Yes," Mother snapped back, waggling her finger at me, "But the difference is that I was about 40 when I did it." (Implying that I'm too young to know how stupid I'm being.)
"I'm 38." I replied, arching an eyebrow. (If that surprises you, you are in good company. I pass for MUCH younger.)
"Yes, but MY mother was probably dead by then," she snarled, implying she would have held off out of respect for her mother, who was a loon anyhow, and I should have considered HER feelings about my body alterations. Of course. It's ALL about her, ALL the time,
"Ah, well, you'll probably live." I replied, shrugging. And I left.
Sis and I laughed ourselves half sick all the way home.
Eventually, if you live through it and with it long enough, you figure out how to disable the buttons THEY installed and push back - hard - on the buttons they own for themselves.
If I belived in Hell....Well, okay, maybe Purgatory.....
I'm still giggling.
1:02 AM - 2007-Aug-25 - {0} -
Herself called her mother before I even got out of bed. While neither of us believe it's going to totally stop things - because these people are compulsive and control freaks - the conversation went better than it could have.
She asked her Mother, "Do you consider (me) to be your daughter-n-law? And these kids as your grandchildren?"
"Well of course!" Mother answered.
"Then why would you EVER even ask me if I would attend Thanksgiving dinner - or anything else - without them?"
"I was just passing on a message."
Stop. Stop now. Stop now before things get really ugly.
Herself thinks she got it through to her mother that we're a box set: take it or leave it, and stop upsetting everyone by even repeating ridiculous invitations like that. Tell Evil Aunt to make the invitation herself, if that's what she wants. Oh...wait...I forgot: she's your typical bully - a coward at heart. She knew it wouldn't go over well and she wants other people to do the dirty work. (We've had two family members, within the last week, tell Herself, "Oh, Evil Aunt wants you to call her."
Fucking bitch. You call US. No guts? Not surprised.
Other stuff:
We're running around like loons trying to get everything ready for school: the last pick up of clothes, new shoes, haircuts, and all the regular lunacy we have anyhow.
The kids both got Sketchers. Selkie, ever the victim of advertising, asked for them by name. Monk saw that they didn't have to be tied and got a pair for himself. It was WAY more fun than getting a tooth extracted, and less espensive by far!
Tomorrow:
Hair cuts. Things need copied, or printed out, or mailed or all of the above. We need a new mouse for the table top computer...ours died, and our sister's didn't work or is also dead. We need new ink in the printer cartridges.
Our kitchen is a disaster area and has pans that need washed from two days ago. We've both been either too tired or sick or busy to do them. It's on the goal list for tomorrow.
The laundry is piled up - both clean and unfolded/put away and dirty - in the basement. It's a damn good thing the kids have new school clothes or they'd have to go naked for a while until I catch up.
Ahh...the typical American household. LOL
3:00 AM - 2007-Aug-22 - {0} -
My wife calls this a "Ziggy Monday." I'm not sure exactly what she means by that, except the Ziggy never seemed to catch a break.
This is the short version of my day, and my fervent hope is that it causes you (whoever is reading this) to be glad that it wasn't YOUR day...and if it sounds BETTER than your day....well, pass the Scotch and skip the glass.
I broke a tooth. Technically, I broke the tooth back when I was in the hospital (and I think I even tried to blog about it but I made about as much sense as jello fruit salad because of the drugs they pass out in those places, so I never posted it), around April sometime. It's a tooth that was more "filling" than tooth anyhow at this point (my molars and I haven't ever been friendly) so I wasn't surprised I broke a tooth while on super steroids. (I did the same thing during both pregnancies, actually, so I think "breaking a tooth when least convienent" is sort of mandatory in my world.)
I've been hoping said broken tooth would behave itself until January because by then I hope to be on a MUCH lower dose of steroids, and I could have it pulled, and replaced by an implant. (I always keep in mind that dental work generally involves INJURING a tooth further than it's already injured....Think about it: you have a hole (cavaty) on a tooth, so the dentist drills a BIGGER hole in order to fill it with a foriegn substance...Hmmm. It tends to make me cautious about dental work (and I say this knowing I have a mouthful of fillings because I do consider dental health to be important).
But NOOOOOO.....Saturday night my tooth breaks a little more. And then begins to sorta hurt. And then begins to REALLY hurt. I slept maybe 4 hours, with the help of some pain killers and Xanax. And then, by Sunday morning I was at the pharmacy buying that dental fill-all that can be used to repair a lost filling until you can get into a dentist. It may surprise you, but there are almost NO dentists who work Sundays. And any that do, don't belong to my insurance plan.
By middle of Sunday, I'm sucking down oxycontin like it's pez, along with Relafin and any other thing I can find to dull the pain a little. I slept maybe two hours (okay, more like an hour and a half) last night, with an ice pack on my face, and then got up to get to Doc's.
My appointment with Doc had been made three weeks before, to review the whole Ritalin thing, but I would have had to stalk him today anyhow, because I need to be on an antibiotic before dental work. I don't remember why. I just remember I do. I'm sure it's somewhere in my medical files if I really want to find out, but it's enough for me to just remember the rule.
Doc comes in, smiles, says, "How are you?"
"Sit down," Herself says, "We have a list." I pointed to my tooth, made a feeble eeky noise, and he wrote a scrip for Zithromax without blinking. I'm allergic to all the stuff they'd rather you use for a tooth infection, and at this point, Zithromax is considered the only "safe" antibiotic for me...meaning I've been on it, and it's not some new drug my system has to process.
"Ritalin," Herself says, "Neuro thinks you're brilliant but up the dose." Doc was sort of leery about the 3x a day idea, but I pointed out that I didn't go to bed usually until around midnight, or earlier but then wake up for 3 or 4 hours every night. He pointed out that ritalin can cause insomnia. I pointed out that having grown up with a homicidial psychotic sociopath who threatened to kill me in my sleep can cause insomnia also, and I've been that way since I was a kid. In my house, insomnia was equal to survival. He wrote the scrip, and doubled the dosage.
"We need a Handicap pass for the car," Herself says. Doc wrote the slip. He apparently also thinks I'm insane for waiting this long to get one.
Then we got to the whole prednisone conversation. I want OFF prednisone. Not reduced, but OFF. My blood sugar was 367 the other night. My sister wanted to take me to ER. I convinced them to let me eat something protein-ish. I've been in this screwy body a long time: sugar low = eat/drink something sweet. Sugar high = eat something with protein. 1/2 hour later, my sugar was 137. My sister is still freaked out, but that's because she's a nurse, and she keeps expecting my body to behave like a normal human. Silly, silly nurse.
Part of this is vanity, because of the weight game, but part of this is that I am rapidly flipping over the "diabetic" fence, on the wrong side, and I want to head back where I was. (It's called Cushing's syndrome, actually...it's reversable, if artificially induced by meds.) I can't just stop cold turkey or even warm turkey with a too-quick taper. My adrenals need a good month or six weeks to adjust to every 5 mg drop of prednisone.
So I want to use Solu-medrol. I looked it up on the web, it's used a prednisone substitute, and when I was on it in the hospital I (a) did not gain weight or have munchies that would make a weed-head proud, and (b) did not play games with blood sugar. I never topped 137 and the nice medical people would have been happy with 250.
Doc balked. He doesn't usually balk. He didn't necessarily think it was a BAD idea, he just wasn't sure what dosage to do, and he wanted Dr. T's blessing (the rheumatologist). Three phone calls later, we had Dr. T's blessing with a catch: I have to have my first shot in her office to make sure I tolerate it okay. She wanted me to go to her office or Doc's to get the shot (I guess it's weekly?) each week, but Herself pointed out that (a) she already gives me the methotrexate shot, and (b) if they REALLY need a nurse to adminster it, my sister can do it.
By that point, we made it to Sears Dental. I don't really give a damn where I get my dental work done, as long as it's reasonably cheap, they take my insurance, and there is relatively little pain involved. I'd already picked up the antibiotic (which itself was a pain in the tuckus: it's been storming and the pharmacy machines were down, but Jim the Pharmacist, who knows us, gave us the pills, waved us on, and said come back and pay him tomorrow....Which is a clue that we are on WAY too many meds) and started it.
Dentist freaked. My medical history more than scared him. It paralyzed him. He didn't want to touch me without Doc's blessing, and he wanted to put me on a different antibiotic. I told him I'd just COME from Doc's and it was "Yes, do it," and "No way in hell" to those two things. In the end, I called Doc, got his receptionist, and Doc callled my cell back, talked to Dentist and said, "Yes, do it," and "No way in hell."
SO the Dentist tried. He numbed me up. Numbed me up some more. Went for the tooth and sent searing, blinding, stabbing, wrenching pain throughout my jaw and body.
"MUHHHGGHH!!!" I said. Sorta. He stopped. "Can you feel that?"
"Yeeeessss." I say.
"That's bad," he says. I sigh. I want to tough it out. "Go ahead," I say, "I'll try to brave it out."
He braces, I brace, he tries and I go "NOMUHHH! SHTOPP!" Because it fucking HURT thank you very much.
The short version of the rest of it is that he found an oral surgeon who would see me RIGHT THEN, and sent me there, and I paid $222 up front, which isn't in my checking account yet, which I may or may not be able to collect some back from the insurance, and the oral surgeon - with relatively little effort - managed to put a great big hole in my mouth where my molar had been. It took four stitches to close.
"That sucker was huge," he says, "It was hard for me to get out and I do this all day."
"Heh." I tell him, "My dentist when I was a kid said when he removed my wisdom teeth that he'd never seen roots like that. Better than an inch. He gave me the teeth, and I've still got them."
"You still have them?" says he, looking a trifle puzzled.
"Yeah, in a bag." I answer.
"Ok, that kind of freaks me out, actually," he says.
Heh. My whole life would freak him out.
Just for kicks, my roof leaked while I was gone.
Just for a kick in the head, my wife's mother called to announce that she and Evil Aunt and "the rest of the family" were all going out to dinner. They're all reconciling. Wonderful. Did Herself want to come? (Myself and the kids aren't welcome.) Oh, and Evil Aunt wants Herself to come to Thanksgiving dinner at her house. The whole family is supposed to be there. (Myself and the kids are again not included.)
The fact that Evil Aunt tried to insist on Herself coming to Thanksgiving at her house without me and the kids is what had caused the rift in the first place. My Mother-n-law announced she wasn't going to keep talking to Evil Aunt (her sister) if Evil Aunt was going to treat Herself that way. It was just an excuse, if you ask me, and now that Herself's mother is bored, Evil Aunt is useful again: she loves to keep trouble brewing.
"No. No I am not coming to dinner. No. I am not going to Thanksgiving dinner without my wife and children." Herself says. More words were exchanged, none pleasant.
"I shouldn't be forced to choose between my family!" Her mother announces. Apparently, Herself should be.
It's going to get REALLY ugly, because Herself has had it.
She's pissed, I'm pissed, and we're both hurt. Evil Aunt hates me ONLY because I stand between her and the control she wants over Herself. The whole history is a mess, and there are no happy stories there.
I try not to say much (and my mouth hurts, so that helps) but I want to call her mother and say, to start, "I've got a bone to pick with you..." Which is Irish for "I'm about to rip you a new Asshole, Bitch, so bend over."
They're toxic, and they have NEVER treated Herself well. What drives 'em nuts is that they KNOW I do treat Herself well, I really DO love her, and I REALLY will protect her, help her, be right beside her, and get her back. I scare them. They constantly make comments that imply that since we have no "legal" marriage that I am going to someday kick Herself out with nothing, take the kids, and Herself will need to come live with them. If we fought all the time, or did stuff behind each other's backs, they'd be thrilled and all would be right in their world. It's how they live. NumbNuts (her ex) was no competition for them, because he played the game by their rules. I scare them. Assholes.
They'd better be scared.
10:11 PM - 2007-Aug-20 - {0} -
I've got no idea where to start so I'll hit the highlights and fill in the details later:
My Sister: Is going to have a nervous breakdown, if not a physical one. She's got to be 150 or more pounds over weight, knows it, and hasn't seen a doctor in years. Did I mention she's a nurse?
Her kids are either worrying her sick or robbing her blind. She's finally caught onto the fact that her son has picked up a lot of his father's attitude and only seems to call her when he wants something. Like the car he got out of her. That he has now wrecked. That is still in her name, totalled, in a different city. She's been paying his auto insurance and kept the car accident off the record, but he had already been caught speeding, in a construction zone, without a seat belt. That court date is coming up.
Yesterday (or was it the day before?) she opened her mail while we were on the phone and got a bill for local taxes that totalled about $800. It's a mistake, but she freaked. (She works in one area and lives in another, and there's reciprocrocacy between municipalities, but she's never done the paperwork before, so she sent in all the info and let the nice people who handle those things handle them...because they've already figured out that most people can't figure the damn forms out and they will now do them for you. Someone has mistyped something. She got credited for only $21 of paid tax.
I swore to her that it will get sorted out. Working with municipal tax offices isn't that hard. I've had to do it. They're pretty laid back, as a rule. If it were the IRS I might worry a little but since we are now under a "kinder, gentler IRS" it isn't as bad as it might seem. It only took me a few days to straighten out a tax problem with the IRS a few years ago. State tax agencies....well, those people scare me. Anyhow, that wasn't as bad as the next piece of mail.
Her cell phone bill was $458. She freaked out. She started sobbing hysterically, at which point I said, "Come here. Bring everything." She was overwhelmed.
Turns out when she moved here in 11/05 she switched local providers...AT&T, just the local AT&T not the one local to where she had been. And they changed her plan rate, reducing her anytime minutes to 450. Her bill stayed about the same because of this, that, and the other they put on it, but she didn't notice because she had tons of rollover minutes (which is my guess as to why they changed her plan). She's never looked at the bill and noticed. Why? Who the hell does if it's in the right dollar range and has a life as hectic as hers?
I called AT&T and pretended to be her, and discussed the problem, got them to change the current month back to the plan she had (so she won't go over her minutes again by about 600 at 45cents a minute and get ANOTHER huge bill), and the previous bill was put into dispute, forwarded to the approproate person who has the power to okay those sort of things (because you know the first line people can't) to have them make the change retroactive to last month. That'll leave her with a $100 bill, but she can handle that. It sounds like it's a thing that will happen, and they'll email her...given that the news stories about AT&T and their 30 page bills, they'll probably change it for her rather than add to their bad press. She hates AT&T.
My Wife: Herself looks like shit, has been crying constantly, over-sleeping, beating herself up about being a flunker-in-life, a bad mother, a bad wife, whatever. I'd say it's all PMS but I think a lot of it is worry (over me, mostly), stress (from her mother, mostly) and her own internal demons (that tell her, in her mother and aunt's voices that she's just lazy, evil, mean, selfish, whatever.). She's trying really hard to put boundary limits on her mother, who doesn't respect them. Her mother is needy, bored, jealous, and wants to be taken care of and made the center of attention. Jess, Herself's sister, now has a baby to care for when she's home, so Mother isn't getting what she wants there. For a while, she was calling either home or cell nearly hourly. To tell us about the news. About the weather. About the weather in other states, About how much Tyler (the baby) ate. About how much Ty slept. Or didn't sleep. Or peed. Or threw up. To ask what we ate for dinner. To tell us what she had for dinner. To ask what we'd bought while we were shopping. To tell us what we should have bought. A fart didn't happen that didn't occasion a phone call.
Herself was in charge of not only her sister but the family finances and most of the household tasks by the time she was 12. Her mother couldn't cope. She read a lot of romance novels instead. It's taken Herself a while to realize that she was letting her mother put her in that "you are responsible for me" trap again. Mother retired, is "disabled" (and she does have health problems but the biggie is COPD and she chain smokes) and has suddenly become incapable of everything. And she's bored. Add to that, Jess, her sister, bought a car seat for Ty for OUR car...for all the times Herself was going to need to take Mother and Ty around. Herself is fighting not only the outer pressure, but the internal pressure.
Me and My Ecosystem:
The nice neurologist kindly explained to me that I have had a very poor grasp of how sick I am. Physical therapy was something he wouldn't even consider until at LEAST October. Maybe not then. He says walking from the car to the door of the building is enough, and I shouldn't be doing that very often. He wants me out of the sun. He wants me out of the heat, totally. He wants me to rest more. My central nervous system is shot, and me being me STILL pushed it, and myself too hard.
Good news is that I did NOT have a stroke. There's been some question because I'm very weak on the left side of my body ...not that I'm that strong on the right, it's just very noticable. And I'm left handed. He said it's not uncommon with CN problems like mine to have one side or area affected worse than the other.
Bad news is I have NO meds I can take for my migraines right now. A few days back I felt a migraine coming on, and took a triptan, which usually cuts it short. We were out at the store and I said, "I feel kind of ... kneeless. Not like I'm going to pass out, but like my legs won't hold me."
We went home, my head was still hurting and I took a second triptan. I promptly passed out shortly after. I managed to do it gracefully (I took off my glasses and sort of fell onto the couch at the same time, and went out). Neuro says it's actually common for people to do something automatic like take off their glasses or aim for a soft surface when they're about to pass out...our brains are wired on auto at that point. Herself was ready to call EMTs but my sister happened to be there and she checked my respirations and heart rate every few minutes, and said there was no point really...I'd just have to sleep it off in the hospital. It was obvious to her that I was snowed, medicinally.
Triptans and Ritalin don't play nice at times, apparently. Neuro is supposed to come up with something to fight the migraines, but he says he has to think on it, and run it through a computer, given my meds and ecosystem. He really likes the Ritalin idea though and doesn't want me off that.
I need an endocrinologist. My thyroid is not behaving nicely, and my blood sugar is going from 347 to a 138 within 45 minutes. (I know, because I said, "Gee, I feel kinda shaky. Like I need to eat." Herself tested my sugar and it was 347 which is a new high for me, even on prednisone. I convinced both of them to just let me eat something rather than call a squad, and my sugar fell promptly. Which freaks my sister the fuck out. She's not seen anything like it. I'm kind of used to it.
Everything Else:
The Sky is Blue, The Grass is Green, the Rivers are Flowing, the Winds are Blowing, and all is well. Or I'm too tired to care. :D
4:51 PM - 2007-Aug-15 - {0} -
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