I woke up around noon to answer the phone and waited for the "next representative" to have the pleasure of hanging up on a person instead of a machine. I remember that this was slightly more disheartening from my days working on the Dark Side. That's when the significance of those first two words hit me. I woke up which means I had slept. That means my sleepless streak was broken. I wasn't rested by any stretch of the imagination so I went back to sleep. Those are some lovely words. I went back to sleep. Later on, I got up so that I could go upstairs and go back to sleep in bed.
Close to midnight, I got up for real feeling a little disoriented with that euphemistically stated "fuzzy tongue" experience. I've been up for a few hours now yet I think I may be headed back to bed soon. The down cycle is underappreciated. No, I don't appreciate sleep enough. There are enough hours in the day to get things done if you keep it reasonable.
Obviously, reasonable for a Chiarian is not reasonable for a healthy person. I'm happy to accomplish one thing in a day. It doesn't even have to be a completed project. It doesn't even have to be all that much progress in measurable terms. My latest writing project was stalled and I came to the realization that it needed more characters. Who cares that they don't make sense exactly where I introduced them? I can always fix that in the next draft.
Neither routines nor drafts are set in stone. I am a day sleeper yet it's pretty obvious that I don't see the pain doc at night. I break my routines when necessary. In fact, I look forward to breaking routines that fail to amuse me enough.
Well, no sense running off on a tangent because I'm trying to keep this short and sweet. I was right. The bad streaks always end just like the good ones. I stopped trying to make myself sleep and it happened. That's not to say it was easy. I didn't start this insomnia streak by trying to make myself sleep. It started when I was overly excited about a project I was working on and couldn't stop thinking about it. I was pleased at the extra productivity at first. The trying to sleep thing came later.
The bad times always get worse until they get better.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
The Down Side of Insomnia
Insomnia is one of those good news/bad news situations. The good news is that you have all sorts of time at your disposal. If it doesn't go to the extreme of literally no sleep, you can be quite productive as an insomniac. My writing projects tend to go well when I can't sleep. "Twice in a Lifetime" would probably be a half written first draft without a period of no sleep. "Angel" is benefiting from this current stretch. I made another breakthrough on how best to get through the difficulty of writing in two general time periods. I skipped it and wrote what happened. A first draft is a slogging process, after all.
Unfortunately, there are limits to what my body and mind can tolerate. Right now, I'm at the point where I cannot stay awake or asleep. I write a few sentences and then my eyes close. I dream something very convincing. It's almost convincing enough to make me believe it as a memory except that it's too weird to withstand more than a few seconds of waking scrutiny. I go back and forth over and over. Those last few seconds of dreaming managed to mix the last few (spoken) lines of Pearl Jam's "Evenflow" with a "Star Wars" theme. It didn't make enough sense for me to go into details.
Yesterday was better. Yesterday started off with me finding a website combining the basic rules of the ancient Asian board game, "Go," with a server for playing it. I was even able to watch a pair of beginners play a game for a while. I want to immerse myself in this ancient game as a way of trying to hold on to my brain power. That requires more than watching a couple of beginners make move after move with no apparent rhyme or reason. Fellow online journaller Magnus Itland just pointed me to a URL that should let me play against the computer. Yes, the computer opponent wiped the floor with me in my first game. I need to have some sort of guiding strategy concerning where I put my stones.
I don't even know for sure if there are any books on Go strategy in print. I had hoped to use the Nook for this but I never did manage to get that upgraded. I have no idea if it's been reduced to the status of expensive paperweight or if Barnes and Noble will take in trade towards an upgrade. Other things came up and overwhelmed my priorities there.
One of the problems of being so far past my limits concerning time spent awake is that everything is overwhelming. Last night, I had a one person flame war on Facebook. I didn't mean to do it but I pushed an old friend's buttons and then she pushed mine. Next thing I knew, I was spiralling out of control mentally. Maybe I'm not sick but just lazy. Maybe our finances would be fine if I weren't always spending all our money. Maybe I'm the root of all that's wrong in the world and that's how you can help yourself by using logical absurdity.
My doctors both mental and physical tell me that my illness is real. They are trained to uncover fakes even those who are fooling themselves. While some of the damage done to me is psychological, the basis of it all is physical. Two centimeters of my brain stem governing autonomic body functions (breathing and heart beat are two common examples but there are so many more) tried to exist in the same space as two centimeters of my spine. No one knows how long this went undiagnosed but it was likely years if not decades. I also have an extreme example of tethered cord syndrome. The physical basis of my illness is the pressure damage to my autonomic nervous system and the spine. My brain sends out some of the wrong signals including pain and jerking movements and my spine garbles some of the signals even further. That's overly simplified and leaves out the damage from the botched first brain surgery but it's more than enough.
I am sick and sick people require more rest not less. I have adaptations that help me live a more normal life but I am crushingly ill on my best days. The Chiarian/Zipperhead motto is, "Be gentle with yourself." I need to remember how to reincorporate that set of adaptations with the ones I use to increase productivity. Maybe a nice cup of my favorite tea might set things on a slightly better path.
Thank God for Melissa in the literal sense. She was tired after a long day at work but she talked me down from the metaphorical ledge. She used my own logic to do it which helped her. I probably could have muddled through it on my own but I didn't have to because I have such a wonderful wife. There is no replacement for the voice of experience whether it comes from your own mind or a coach. This insomnia is becoming unbearable yet I know that it could be a good sign. These long sleeping droughts always break sooner or later. Usually, I feel ready to fall apart then sleep instead.
Insomnia ain't all sunshine and bunnies.
Unfortunately, there are limits to what my body and mind can tolerate. Right now, I'm at the point where I cannot stay awake or asleep. I write a few sentences and then my eyes close. I dream something very convincing. It's almost convincing enough to make me believe it as a memory except that it's too weird to withstand more than a few seconds of waking scrutiny. I go back and forth over and over. Those last few seconds of dreaming managed to mix the last few (spoken) lines of Pearl Jam's "Evenflow" with a "Star Wars" theme. It didn't make enough sense for me to go into details.
Yesterday was better. Yesterday started off with me finding a website combining the basic rules of the ancient Asian board game, "Go," with a server for playing it. I was even able to watch a pair of beginners play a game for a while. I want to immerse myself in this ancient game as a way of trying to hold on to my brain power. That requires more than watching a couple of beginners make move after move with no apparent rhyme or reason. Fellow online journaller Magnus Itland just pointed me to a URL that should let me play against the computer. Yes, the computer opponent wiped the floor with me in my first game. I need to have some sort of guiding strategy concerning where I put my stones.
I don't even know for sure if there are any books on Go strategy in print. I had hoped to use the Nook for this but I never did manage to get that upgraded. I have no idea if it's been reduced to the status of expensive paperweight or if Barnes and Noble will take in trade towards an upgrade. Other things came up and overwhelmed my priorities there.
One of the problems of being so far past my limits concerning time spent awake is that everything is overwhelming. Last night, I had a one person flame war on Facebook. I didn't mean to do it but I pushed an old friend's buttons and then she pushed mine. Next thing I knew, I was spiralling out of control mentally. Maybe I'm not sick but just lazy. Maybe our finances would be fine if I weren't always spending all our money. Maybe I'm the root of all that's wrong in the world and that's how you can help yourself by using logical absurdity.
My doctors both mental and physical tell me that my illness is real. They are trained to uncover fakes even those who are fooling themselves. While some of the damage done to me is psychological, the basis of it all is physical. Two centimeters of my brain stem governing autonomic body functions (breathing and heart beat are two common examples but there are so many more) tried to exist in the same space as two centimeters of my spine. No one knows how long this went undiagnosed but it was likely years if not decades. I also have an extreme example of tethered cord syndrome. The physical basis of my illness is the pressure damage to my autonomic nervous system and the spine. My brain sends out some of the wrong signals including pain and jerking movements and my spine garbles some of the signals even further. That's overly simplified and leaves out the damage from the botched first brain surgery but it's more than enough.
I am sick and sick people require more rest not less. I have adaptations that help me live a more normal life but I am crushingly ill on my best days. The Chiarian/Zipperhead motto is, "Be gentle with yourself." I need to remember how to reincorporate that set of adaptations with the ones I use to increase productivity. Maybe a nice cup of my favorite tea might set things on a slightly better path.
Thank God for Melissa in the literal sense. She was tired after a long day at work but she talked me down from the metaphorical ledge. She used my own logic to do it which helped her. I probably could have muddled through it on my own but I didn't have to because I have such a wonderful wife. There is no replacement for the voice of experience whether it comes from your own mind or a coach. This insomnia is becoming unbearable yet I know that it could be a good sign. These long sleeping droughts always break sooner or later. Usually, I feel ready to fall apart then sleep instead.
Insomnia ain't all sunshine and bunnies.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Best Wishes Through Indirect Writing
One thing I try to do here in this blog is be discrete about using names. Someone I care about a lot has become very ill and the news was sudden for me. I guess you might call her an aunt but I know her better on a first name basis. My heart also goes out to her husband, the silent gentle giant of the family. Shortly before my wedding, she had a battle with cancer that she won. Neither of us like to say a whole lot about how we feel although you wouldn't know it in my case. Without ever saying a word, she inspired me to donate platelets when I was active in the Blood Bank. I guess I need to get active again because it appears that her cancer is back. Obviously, those directly involved would know who I am writing about.
She has my full support and love. I wish I could stop right there without explaining but she was unable to quit smoking after her first bout with cancer. As I told her on the phone, it would have been better for her to quit but I've been through quitting back in 1998 or so. It was a miserable experience in some ways comparable with what I go through these days. When I was in Baltimore, I walked past a group smoking out on the street and caught a whiff. The fresh cigarette smoke smelled delicious. All things being equal, I never would have quit.
All things were not equal. I had only been a serious smoker for five years while this special person has smoked most of her life and is considerably older than I am. Melissa had just lost her father to something heart and lung related so his smoking certainly contributed to his death. In my case, I started smoking with my eyes wide open. I knew it was a deadly habit and I wanted it to kill me. By 1998, I hadn't been suicidal in quite a while so smoking no longer made sense. My fellow sickie started smoking in the days before it was known to be so dangerous when society encouraged smoking. She has been told to quit or she will die soon but it will be a struggle nonetheless.
She suffers from a chronic pain disorder and we are careful to avoid comparisons. Boredom is a terrible part of being sick and boredom is a terrible part of quitting smoking. During my brief smoking relapse after being told I needed brain surgery (2000?), I was grateful to have something to occupy my hands. I am a busy person by nature. Right now, I'm physically exhausted and want to go to sleep but I can't handle the distractions. I had to come out to the office and load two very mentally undemanding computer games. By switching back and forth between the two, I was able to stay busy enough without reaching the concentration level that would inflict agony. I had to quit playing one of the games to start writing this.
My sickie buddy is one of the rare people I can stand to be around while feeling less than at my best. My in-laws try very hard and they are also among those people in short doses while Melissa tops the list. The difference with my sickie buddy is that she keeps her voice down because that's what she prefers. I can't imagine her shining a light in my eyes. She remembers to ask before touching me which isn't something where the point is that I'll be likely to say no. It's the recognition that I require a tiny additional layer of space. She offers me a degree of respect that I don't ever expect from others but always appreciate. You either have to live with me like Melissa or live through the experience for yourself to appreciate.
Well, my buddy was admitted to the hospital with breathing problems and it was discovered that she had a mild heart attack. It just goes to show you how advanced modern medicine is that the heart attack was not the cause for immediate concern. Like me but to a more advanced stage, her overall health is more a cause for concern than anything specific. They discovered a spot on her lung where the previous cancer was while investigating the breathing.
I do not know whether the cancer's return is strongly suggested or confirmed as returned at this point. If it has returned, I do not know what stage it would be. I'm thankful that I've never had to know the intimate details of cancer in any form beyond the little I learned in a college course. All I do know is that my buddy was allowed to return home and that it's being treated as good news at this point.
I did hear talk of her running over nurses like I would although I would hope she asked them what lines she really shouldn't cross before doing so. In my hospital trips, the point when I was able to start lobbying to go home effectively was the point where I was declared "better enough." According to the nurses, this was pure coincidence. There was no way they'd send me home before they were good and ready to do so no matter how many tests I refused.
She has my full support and love. I wish I could stop right there without explaining but she was unable to quit smoking after her first bout with cancer. As I told her on the phone, it would have been better for her to quit but I've been through quitting back in 1998 or so. It was a miserable experience in some ways comparable with what I go through these days. When I was in Baltimore, I walked past a group smoking out on the street and caught a whiff. The fresh cigarette smoke smelled delicious. All things being equal, I never would have quit.
All things were not equal. I had only been a serious smoker for five years while this special person has smoked most of her life and is considerably older than I am. Melissa had just lost her father to something heart and lung related so his smoking certainly contributed to his death. In my case, I started smoking with my eyes wide open. I knew it was a deadly habit and I wanted it to kill me. By 1998, I hadn't been suicidal in quite a while so smoking no longer made sense. My fellow sickie started smoking in the days before it was known to be so dangerous when society encouraged smoking. She has been told to quit or she will die soon but it will be a struggle nonetheless.
She suffers from a chronic pain disorder and we are careful to avoid comparisons. Boredom is a terrible part of being sick and boredom is a terrible part of quitting smoking. During my brief smoking relapse after being told I needed brain surgery (2000?), I was grateful to have something to occupy my hands. I am a busy person by nature. Right now, I'm physically exhausted and want to go to sleep but I can't handle the distractions. I had to come out to the office and load two very mentally undemanding computer games. By switching back and forth between the two, I was able to stay busy enough without reaching the concentration level that would inflict agony. I had to quit playing one of the games to start writing this.
My sickie buddy is one of the rare people I can stand to be around while feeling less than at my best. My in-laws try very hard and they are also among those people in short doses while Melissa tops the list. The difference with my sickie buddy is that she keeps her voice down because that's what she prefers. I can't imagine her shining a light in my eyes. She remembers to ask before touching me which isn't something where the point is that I'll be likely to say no. It's the recognition that I require a tiny additional layer of space. She offers me a degree of respect that I don't ever expect from others but always appreciate. You either have to live with me like Melissa or live through the experience for yourself to appreciate.
Well, my buddy was admitted to the hospital with breathing problems and it was discovered that she had a mild heart attack. It just goes to show you how advanced modern medicine is that the heart attack was not the cause for immediate concern. Like me but to a more advanced stage, her overall health is more a cause for concern than anything specific. They discovered a spot on her lung where the previous cancer was while investigating the breathing.
I do not know whether the cancer's return is strongly suggested or confirmed as returned at this point. If it has returned, I do not know what stage it would be. I'm thankful that I've never had to know the intimate details of cancer in any form beyond the little I learned in a college course. All I do know is that my buddy was allowed to return home and that it's being treated as good news at this point.
I did hear talk of her running over nurses like I would although I would hope she asked them what lines she really shouldn't cross before doing so. In my hospital trips, the point when I was able to start lobbying to go home effectively was the point where I was declared "better enough." According to the nurses, this was pure coincidence. There was no way they'd send me home before they were good and ready to do so no matter how many tests I refused.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Coming Down Off the Ledge (the slow way)
The title refers to my recent state of mind with a cat joke thrown in for good measure. My cats love to perch on a banister at the top of a stairwell and we fought it for a long time. We were afraid that they would fall and injure themselves. Eventually, we gave up the fight and I now refer to that ledge as the "cat balcony." Both of them fell and merely startled themselves (and me) before walking away unharmed. Now, I forget occasionally and yell at them to come down and then add...the slow way!
So, I was listening to the radio and the newest Shinedown song came on. It's called "Unity" for some reason but the lyrics almost seemed to be reaching out to me. First there's a reference to something not really starting until you're out of hope or something like that. I'm more confident about the chorus. It starts off swimming in a sea of despair then gets to the moment of truth being when you realize that you're not scared. I thought I'd be able to quote it but my head hurts too much. Listening to this song made me remember that I'm not scared.
What helped me reach this conclusion? I was summoned for jury duty. Mail difficulties I've mentioned before that have nothing to do with the Post Office caused me to get this summons fairly late. There was a moment of panic when I couldn't get in touch with anyone at the court but there ended up being a good reason. It was called Labor Day. I got in touch with a court official the next morning who told me exactly what I needed to do. I need to get a document from the Social Security Administration and fax a copy along with a form to the court.
There was no bluster, threatening or deadlines thrown in my face. This is part of the legal process. I'm not asking for any back door favors here. I'm not cutting corners or anything. This wasn't a straw breaking any poor camel's back. It was just another straw and one with which I have some experience. The system is meant to choose jurors qualified to handle the case. I am most decidedly unqualified and any lawyer taking one look at me would have me disqualified in two seconds. The system and I are looking for the same outcome here.
Here's some practical advice while I'm unburdening myself. Social Security Disability is an automatic excuse from jury duty. For once, the executive (Social Security) and the judicial branches of government trust each other to be competent. Social Security put me through a rigorous process before I was qualified for Social Security Disability Income. I suppose they look at it the way I would. That's not something anyone would willing to go through if they just wanted out of jury duty. All you have to do is present proof that you have qualified for SSDI.
This is more along the lines of practical advice. When someone sends you documents, organize and keep them. They can only help you unless someone obtains a search warrant for your house. If you're doing something to justify a legitimate search warrant, I'm not interested in helping you. File boxes are cheap and they prevent the need for frantic searches for documents that might actually be expensive to replace later on. Luckily, Social Security Documents are free even though they are a hassle. It could have been a lot worse. I wish I'd written down this fellow's position when he answered the phone. It would be nice to do a better job documenting the a positive contact with judicial system. They do a good job most of the time and no one ever notices unless they have a complaint.
This somewhat positive partial result has no bearing on a the other crises that are beating down my door symbolically. Then again, it might just help. I've been frustrated about the tasting I won't be able to attend this Thursday night. The first frustrating thing is that it is one of my favorite concepts possible, "Beers of Germany," and we would have the money Friday morning. This is just the monetary "Twilight Zone" of the month. The second point of irritation is that they are serving actual German food instead of the usual pretzels and cheese.
Okay. It's time to stop fretting and remember the trinity here. Nothing in this shakes my faith in God or Melissa. Before I let myself get down for not being able to set aside between 26 and 30 dollars for this one event, it's time to remember what I have done. I have written two drafts of what I consider to be some of my finest fiction work. I have undertaken a major organizational project using the organizer Melissa bought me mostly to serve as a fetish piece. I organized an outing to go see my best friend in another state and overcame all the misgivings about it to complete the task.
As for my treats, I had a great time with my best friend. In addition, all the beers involved in the tasting on Thursday will be on sale the next day. It's not quite as good a deal because I miss out on all the social stuff but I enjoy drinking more when it comes at a slower pace. I might have drunk more than a six pack of beer at the tasting and likely fallen asleep in the car on the way home. I'm hoping to buy twice as much but in slightly smaller batches and really get an idea of what I like. Then again, it takes me much of a six pack to decide whether or not I like a beer and then the rest to enjoy it. Mind you that this is done at a rate of one to (at most) two bottles a night.
Finally, Melissa helped me out of my funk by delving into the DVD collection and watching some good TV episodes with me. We watched the first five episodes of "Burn Notice" Season One most recently and they are great. I picked up on things that proved important later and had some laughs from the special features. The actors are hilarious doing commentary. It's just good to remember things we like to do together.
The headaches are just as bad and the overall body aches are worse but there are good things in life.
So, I was listening to the radio and the newest Shinedown song came on. It's called "Unity" for some reason but the lyrics almost seemed to be reaching out to me. First there's a reference to something not really starting until you're out of hope or something like that. I'm more confident about the chorus. It starts off swimming in a sea of despair then gets to the moment of truth being when you realize that you're not scared. I thought I'd be able to quote it but my head hurts too much. Listening to this song made me remember that I'm not scared.
What helped me reach this conclusion? I was summoned for jury duty. Mail difficulties I've mentioned before that have nothing to do with the Post Office caused me to get this summons fairly late. There was a moment of panic when I couldn't get in touch with anyone at the court but there ended up being a good reason. It was called Labor Day. I got in touch with a court official the next morning who told me exactly what I needed to do. I need to get a document from the Social Security Administration and fax a copy along with a form to the court.
There was no bluster, threatening or deadlines thrown in my face. This is part of the legal process. I'm not asking for any back door favors here. I'm not cutting corners or anything. This wasn't a straw breaking any poor camel's back. It was just another straw and one with which I have some experience. The system is meant to choose jurors qualified to handle the case. I am most decidedly unqualified and any lawyer taking one look at me would have me disqualified in two seconds. The system and I are looking for the same outcome here.
Here's some practical advice while I'm unburdening myself. Social Security Disability is an automatic excuse from jury duty. For once, the executive (Social Security) and the judicial branches of government trust each other to be competent. Social Security put me through a rigorous process before I was qualified for Social Security Disability Income. I suppose they look at it the way I would. That's not something anyone would willing to go through if they just wanted out of jury duty. All you have to do is present proof that you have qualified for SSDI.
This is more along the lines of practical advice. When someone sends you documents, organize and keep them. They can only help you unless someone obtains a search warrant for your house. If you're doing something to justify a legitimate search warrant, I'm not interested in helping you. File boxes are cheap and they prevent the need for frantic searches for documents that might actually be expensive to replace later on. Luckily, Social Security Documents are free even though they are a hassle. It could have been a lot worse. I wish I'd written down this fellow's position when he answered the phone. It would be nice to do a better job documenting the a positive contact with judicial system. They do a good job most of the time and no one ever notices unless they have a complaint.
This somewhat positive partial result has no bearing on a the other crises that are beating down my door symbolically. Then again, it might just help. I've been frustrated about the tasting I won't be able to attend this Thursday night. The first frustrating thing is that it is one of my favorite concepts possible, "Beers of Germany," and we would have the money Friday morning. This is just the monetary "Twilight Zone" of the month. The second point of irritation is that they are serving actual German food instead of the usual pretzels and cheese.
Okay. It's time to stop fretting and remember the trinity here. Nothing in this shakes my faith in God or Melissa. Before I let myself get down for not being able to set aside between 26 and 30 dollars for this one event, it's time to remember what I have done. I have written two drafts of what I consider to be some of my finest fiction work. I have undertaken a major organizational project using the organizer Melissa bought me mostly to serve as a fetish piece. I organized an outing to go see my best friend in another state and overcame all the misgivings about it to complete the task.
As for my treats, I had a great time with my best friend. In addition, all the beers involved in the tasting on Thursday will be on sale the next day. It's not quite as good a deal because I miss out on all the social stuff but I enjoy drinking more when it comes at a slower pace. I might have drunk more than a six pack of beer at the tasting and likely fallen asleep in the car on the way home. I'm hoping to buy twice as much but in slightly smaller batches and really get an idea of what I like. Then again, it takes me much of a six pack to decide whether or not I like a beer and then the rest to enjoy it. Mind you that this is done at a rate of one to (at most) two bottles a night.
Finally, Melissa helped me out of my funk by delving into the DVD collection and watching some good TV episodes with me. We watched the first five episodes of "Burn Notice" Season One most recently and they are great. I picked up on things that proved important later and had some laughs from the special features. The actors are hilarious doing commentary. It's just good to remember things we like to do together.
The headaches are just as bad and the overall body aches are worse but there are good things in life.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
PDD: August 2012
This was a bad one but it's easy to admit that it was no one's fault. My regular doctor was out sick so I was thrown back to the lions...err...back into the main group. Please keep in mind that I was in moderate to severe pain before I even arrived for the appointment. The practice had CNN on the TV as is usual but this happened to be during the Republican National Convention so there were lies being repeated left and right all over the place. I was starting off at a pretty high agitation level in any case.
A face more familiar to Melissa than me brought me back to a room I'd never seen before. Turns out there's a new proceedure where you go back to have your vitals updated and then you get back in line for your real appointment. It's gotten to the point where having my vitals taken scares me. I've experienced severe pain from blood pressure cuffs for years but this was a new level of pain. Since this nurse has helped me out on a couple of occasions recently, I did my very best not to complain. Instead, I panted with the pain and the nurse got the point very easily.
The funny part came when they weighed me. I'm not talking the sort of funny that anyone could get but the sort of funny that comes from years of severe pain. I tried to climb on the scale which was to my left only to have my left arm utterly fail on me. I fell against the wall and scared the nurse and Melissa and I insisted on cooperating as best I could. No one will be able to say anything about me being a difficult patient outside hospitals. After this, I was brought to my real room and I came to a horrible yet true conclusion. I was going to be in agony and bored out of my mind at the same time. It shouldn't be possible but I've experienced it more often than I'd care to admit.
There was only one thing left for me to do and that was make a joke out of it. In Las Vegas, you can bet on just about anything or so I have heard. One common bet is the over/under bet. This usually applies to the combined score of two teams in a big game. I joked with Melissa many times that the over/under for pain doc visits was three hours. I believe that is a pretty accurate number when you take the decade or more that I have spent going to the practice especially if you don't take into account the improvements from the clinic system. There have probably been an equal number of visits that took over three hours than those that took under three hours.
When one of my favorite doctors looked slightly dazed from the long day she was facing, I caught up to her to deliver the news. Vegas is taking a beating today. You guys missed the over/under and now all those poor bookies are in trouble. That got me a sympathy laugh.
I left in horrible pain and it took me a week to recover enough to write this. Worse yet, I left in terrible financial straits and with no samples of my most expensive meds. I've since begged for and gotten enough to make it through payday so that helps a lot. I was fretting about spending a whole week going off that medicine and now that doesn't need to happen. Hopefully, the two weeks I'll need before the next visit won't start the next financial crisis.
It's hard to depict just how bad it was last week because I'm so calmed down compared to then. I spent a fair amount of time discussing hopelessness with anyone who would listen. You might say that I'm half a step ahead of those feelings now. I won the small victory over the fear of withdrawal so that helped. It's just hard to see any scenario in which things improve any time soon. I'm beginning to think that death could be a blessing again. Then again, I might just need some more sleep.
It was August with temperatures in the 90s when my Fall/Winter symptoms started to set in this year. There is no such thing as fair so I won't ask what planet that would be fair on. I just feel as if I'm being attacked from all sides again. As if I didn't have enough to worry about, I have to contact the court system and figure out how best to prove I'm disabled. That deadline is approaching fast and I'm so tired. Please make it stop.
A face more familiar to Melissa than me brought me back to a room I'd never seen before. Turns out there's a new proceedure where you go back to have your vitals updated and then you get back in line for your real appointment. It's gotten to the point where having my vitals taken scares me. I've experienced severe pain from blood pressure cuffs for years but this was a new level of pain. Since this nurse has helped me out on a couple of occasions recently, I did my very best not to complain. Instead, I panted with the pain and the nurse got the point very easily.
The funny part came when they weighed me. I'm not talking the sort of funny that anyone could get but the sort of funny that comes from years of severe pain. I tried to climb on the scale which was to my left only to have my left arm utterly fail on me. I fell against the wall and scared the nurse and Melissa and I insisted on cooperating as best I could. No one will be able to say anything about me being a difficult patient outside hospitals. After this, I was brought to my real room and I came to a horrible yet true conclusion. I was going to be in agony and bored out of my mind at the same time. It shouldn't be possible but I've experienced it more often than I'd care to admit.
There was only one thing left for me to do and that was make a joke out of it. In Las Vegas, you can bet on just about anything or so I have heard. One common bet is the over/under bet. This usually applies to the combined score of two teams in a big game. I joked with Melissa many times that the over/under for pain doc visits was three hours. I believe that is a pretty accurate number when you take the decade or more that I have spent going to the practice especially if you don't take into account the improvements from the clinic system. There have probably been an equal number of visits that took over three hours than those that took under three hours.
When one of my favorite doctors looked slightly dazed from the long day she was facing, I caught up to her to deliver the news. Vegas is taking a beating today. You guys missed the over/under and now all those poor bookies are in trouble. That got me a sympathy laugh.
I left in horrible pain and it took me a week to recover enough to write this. Worse yet, I left in terrible financial straits and with no samples of my most expensive meds. I've since begged for and gotten enough to make it through payday so that helps a lot. I was fretting about spending a whole week going off that medicine and now that doesn't need to happen. Hopefully, the two weeks I'll need before the next visit won't start the next financial crisis.
It's hard to depict just how bad it was last week because I'm so calmed down compared to then. I spent a fair amount of time discussing hopelessness with anyone who would listen. You might say that I'm half a step ahead of those feelings now. I won the small victory over the fear of withdrawal so that helped. It's just hard to see any scenario in which things improve any time soon. I'm beginning to think that death could be a blessing again. Then again, I might just need some more sleep.
It was August with temperatures in the 90s when my Fall/Winter symptoms started to set in this year. There is no such thing as fair so I won't ask what planet that would be fair on. I just feel as if I'm being attacked from all sides again. As if I didn't have enough to worry about, I have to contact the court system and figure out how best to prove I'm disabled. That deadline is approaching fast and I'm so tired. Please make it stop.
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