My Buddha Thought #42

A couple of weeks ago I fell into a reclusive hiding mode (yes, more than usual) where I avoid contact with most everyone. I've become raw and sensitive so that no matter what anyone says/does or what anyone doesn't say/do can send me into despair.

Of course, no one has noticed that I have disappeared into an oblivion but perhaps that is for the best. It is good to know where I stand with others. I tend to get into either one-way relationships where I do most of the initiation of conversation, events, etc. or one-way relationships where the other person is needy and sucking the life out of me. Not always, but not infrequent either.

Regardless, I've gotten to the point where I now become jittery on the ride home from work only to end up in anxiety during the rest of the evening. Now that some of my health issues are being addressed, I have to actually deal with other things that I'd rather avoid. It's easy to get overwhelmed.

Thanks to Blue Country Magic, I picked up a copy of "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert and am hopeful the journey she shares will be helpful to me. Beware, as I will probably be doing quite a bit of blogging regarding this book. I have already been searching for a Guru for myself. I would go to the Ashram in India myself if I hadn't been so close to madness lately (the author's Guru states that the purpose of attending the Ashram is to find one's self but that if your self is near the brink of madness then no one wants to carry you out tied down with wooden spoon in mouth).

For the time being, I've decided that I am overwhelmed by all the stuff I have to take care of. So Self then responded with my Buddha Thought of The Week:

"If you have more stuff than you can manage, then get rid of some of it".

"No matter the frequency, we all have trash to throw away."

I responded by gathering boxes to start sorting through personal belongings at my house so that I can throw away or store as appropriate with the goal being to cleanse myself and do some moving forward.

All this said, I have not decided on when I will come out of hiding. I suppose whenever I feel it is safe for myself and society in general.

BioShocked

I'm not sure quite how it happened. I had promised myself that I would finish all worthy PS2 games (which I did) before going on to the latest console but had not decided on whether to go to the XBox360 or the PS3.

I have always been loyal to the Playstation and detested the XBox but after an analysis on games I want to play and strong encouragement from my co-workers, I ended up bringing home an XBox360 last Thursday. After all, I may as well have a "Property of Microsoft" barcode tatoo on my forehead. To make it worse, I picked up a used copy of BioShock and, as a result, my weekend was rather shot. Not entirely, but mostly, shot.

Before I even hooked the system up I was thinking about how I should spend more time just existing and lessen time that is otherwise sucked up by technology. ...so, there you go, and extra layer of padding surrounding me and my inner world.

Mutes In a Jar - An Immediate Follow-Up

No more than five minutes after my last post I get the phone call: "Want to do dinner tonight?"

Am I a drama queen who blows things out of proportion or am I frequently the only sane person in insane situations? I need to know because I can't tell the difference.

I have dreaded this extra-long weekend because I knew that I would most likely be alone so I made a list of plans and things to do. Every time I make said plans, he phones at the last minute and asks me to do something and I don't want to because I've made plans; however, if I ask him to do something then he does not want to or already has plans himself. If we BOTH plan ahead to do something then I am usually blamed for screwing that up. Sound crazy?

Don't bother analyzing the situation, because enough analysis has been done and after a certain point you just have say 'STOP'. This ends now.

....
....
...

"I'll see you tomorrow instead."

Mutes In a Jar

Despite my faulty history with my latest motorcycle, part of yesterday's personal Fourth of July festivities included me taking a long ride through the local countryside. I knew it was a risk but I felt physically solid and think that such personal freedoms are worth the chase.

Earlier in the day, I had phoned my husband to ask if he wanted to get together today but he declined because he had made plans with his parents. On my way back into town I had one of those pleasant ideas that later turn out to be not pleasant but just plain stupid. I call these part of the 'Pollyannic-Daze-Syndrome' where I experience rare moments of optimism that is unfitting for the situation at hand. Anyway, I decided that I would stop by the house and say hello to these people whom I have not seen for over a year since the separation and this is how it went:

"I parked my bike on the curb in front of the house and went to greet my husband and his dad (who were at the side of the house). With a brief and curt nod my husband walked further to the back of the yard and his father had nothing to say. Assuming they were busy doing yard-things, I continued merrily into the house to fetch my mail and have a good tummy-scratching session with our orange Tabby.

After some time went by and the cat had his fill, I decided to again venture outdoors. As I was walking toward the back of the yard, I noticed my mother-in-law was baking in the summer sun inside of a hot truck. Her head was down in the obvious pose of ignoring me even if it meant she would melt. I did not quite know what to make of this as it was one of two behaviors that my own mother would display -- the other being jumping out of the truck and chasing me with a crow-bar (I never knew which way she would go). Knowing that some unseen poison was being leaked into the air, I continued in the opposite direction to the back yard.

Drinking on his patio, a neighbor noticed me and came over the heartily chat me up about my latest motorcycle mishaps. When I attempted to speak to my husband I was hardly acknowledged and, of course, his father ignored me completely. I was rather stunned that my husband would play this game so I decided it would be wise and leave. The thought that I should go over and roll down the window and ask the woman inside if she needed a fan or some water or a dose of Thorazine was dismissed as I just put on my helmet and rode away from the house and life that is mine but is not mine at all."

I know these family-dysfunctional-situations well and took my usual course of action - leave the premises. What I was surprised at, however, was my husband's reaction -- this I had not seen before. It made me very grateful that I have kept my distance from these people over the course of the separation. I am positive that if I had attended some family function then this same behavior would have occurred but I would not have had the advantage of a vehicle to ride away on. Instead, I would have been trapped in that freezing, hard, and desolate corner in which I had already spent one lifetime.

Overall, I could only conclude that the hidden forces which seem to always drive me, whether nudging or throwing, were trying to make me see that the situation there is beyond my control and that it is necessary for me to leave the premises on a greater level. I knew the chain that binds my husband to a vast pool of poison existed but have lied to myself about it -- hoping eventually he rip it apart. It appears that 'eventually' is going to be a longer period of time than I had hoped.

How fair would it be to myself to make myself endure these types of situations after I fought so hard to escape them? The answer is really irrelevant as it is more of a matter of survival as my thin mentality would erode ... as it always does.

IV You

Happy Independence Day to You

May you have freedom

From all wars - within and without

Well am I Cursed or What?

... so last night I was feeling ok and decided to let the motorcycle get some air when I noticed two of my four custom mods were missing from the bike ... yep, sure enough, someone had to have manually removed them ... anyone else wanna take a kick? ... because when I get back up ...

A Visit With the Happy Heart Doctor

Nurse # 1: I can't hear your blood pressure. Let me get another cuff ... still no good ...

Nurse # 2: Do you have a blood pressure because I can't hear it. You're pulse is tachy at 120 ...

Nurse # 3: I can hear it now, it is 100/70. Is it always so low? Do you feel OK? ...

Cardiologist: ( ::sits down legs straddling apart, hands behind his head, leaning back :: ) Yeah, there's nothing else I can do for you. No magic bullets here. Shouldn't be a problem though - you are fine.

Me: My blood pressure is low and I fall down. I was taking the medicine as you prescribed but my blood pressure kept crashing so eventually I cut it to fourth the dose you had me on and the tachycardia is better when I am able to take it but my BP is still low but I check it to make sure it doesn't get high again. It is hard to function with a heart rate over 100. It was up to 130 over the weekend.

Cardiologist: Yes, I recall that we told you that you could stop taking the medicine since all of your other doctors kept phoning and complaining but it is not dangerous so you are fine. I told them I treat the heart only, not the person. You don't need to be checking your blood pressure.

Cardiologist: ( ::listens to heart::) ...now did anyone in the hospital tell you that you have Mitral Valve Prolapse?

Me: ... um, no ... (::"wouldn't that be your job?"::)

Cardiologist: yeah, it is a leaky valve but it is so minor that you do not have to worry about it.

Me: (:: "thanks for letting me know asshole"::)

Me: Should it be checked periodically in the future?

Cardiologist: No, not at all. You might need to worry about it when you are elderly and decrepit.

Me: (::"... is that supposed to make me feel better about the future? ... wait ... I'm already decrepit ... "::)

Cardiologist: So, I don't want to see you again. Here is a script for a different beta-blocker you can try. Let your internist take care of this in the future.

None

my upper thighs ache and burn since i dropped the ninja again over the weekend. i was going to ride and then ended up locking myself out of my apartment. i had no keys for apartment or car, just ninja. i managed to get a ride to where i keep the ninja by a friend but had to walk to her house and got lost. eventually i made it but then my ride was not so pleasant. i was determined to not be discouraged.

for months i have been studying for the next technical certification in my career queue. i failed the first time and have been determined to pass. for the past two weekends and three weeks i have spent most of my spare time studying for this exam. today i not only failed but scored worse than the last one. as i was walking out of the testing center, the desk-lady informed me that they should stop offerring those exams since there is a global failure rate of about 82%. she was right and now i have to take three others to just get this one.

something else bad happened but i can't write about it here as it might impact the divorce proceedings which i have yet to get a consult for because i can't afford it due to the recent thousands i've spent on medical bills that resulted not in a fix but just more pills.

tonight my bed broke. yeah, the new one ... the place where i go to rest at night ...

i'm told that i really need this three-day holiday weekend. i dread it so much that i taste vomit in the back of my throat as it is a glaring reminder of my aloneness ... my sense of nothingness ... the worst might be that i don't even care anymore about how pathetic i sound ... i need someone to take care of the cats

Tripping The Bell Curve

Dr. M. : y....r. .eu..k..y.....s .s .e..gn
me: ...
Dr. M. : .ou. leu...o...y... i. b.ni..
me: ... .... (dumbfounded because no) ...
Dr. M. : hello?
Dr. I said -- your leukocytosis is benign
me: ... how? ...
Dr. M. : Well, you see, what is normal for most is not normal for all.
me: ... (i am n o t normal ... nothing new there ...)
Dr. M. : You see, you fall outside the bell-curve. It is ok.
me: ... ( ... i definitely fell ... )
Dr. M. : Do you understand? (rambles on) Are you having any other problems?
me: ... I am still having trouble with the oversensitivity to most anything ... and ... it causes ... difficulties ... ( ... i overdosed last night ... )
Dr. M. : Yes, some people are like that. For example, people here in the mid-west who do not tolerate a specific cancer drug that is very much used around the world but cannot be used here so much that a study was done that showed the people in this area cannot tolerate it on the whole. Oh, it has nothing to do with in-breeding though people here tend to marry others in their region and such but it is just what has been studied.
me: ... (in-breeding ... whaaaat? ... i missed something) ...
Dr. M. : So, what will happen is you will need to get the white cell count checked at least once a year so we can make sure nothing sneaks up on us, ok?
me: ... but ... i wanted ... was hoping ... oh nothing, thanks ...

None

last night my blood pressure crashed down to 90/60. it was disappointing because i had a good day on the ninja watching the swell of trees and hills surround me with wonder and hope. but with pain in my chest i later vomited and went to bed sure that the end was near so it is hard to believe that i woke up this morning. god, i was hoping otherwise and do not understand how i continue to breathe each day.

the doctor called and said she has no answer. i can have the disabling tachycardia or i can have the low blood pressure, falling around, depressed, and doped. thank you for the choice. i am amazed at my choices. again, thank you.

in fact thank you to all of you unknown forces - you have given me such wonderful choices in my life. i am sorry that i must have made the wrong choices somewhere because look at the pile of crap i've landed in and i know they were wrong but i don't know what i could have done different. you dirty fuckers who kept my body alive so long ago when i tried to let it go when all you had to offer was the latest drug and a trip home to more rape and violence when you could have just fixed the problem then by taking those bastards to jail but that would have been too hard being the pillars in the community that they are and the nobody that i am.

i realize that i am not special and i do not have any right to bury myself in self-loathing when so many others fight hard to make it through but ... i have no but ... i have no more arguments.

The Bills Come Rollin' In But ...

... instead of being from the heart hospital as the shot above depics, they are from an intensive psycho-therapeutic outpatient program which included regular doses of B-12 shots. By God, I must have been in alcohol rehabilitation the whole time! It's all been a delirium?!? If Blue Cross / Blue Shield says so, then it must indeed be so! I guess now I am just hungover ...

Atonement For Nothing

Happiness is not real. Happiness is a concept invented by a desparate five-year-old with a wish of non-stop milk and cookies ... a scenario of neverending bliss and warmth that only occurs in a Leave It To Beaver episode.

It was not not the bubbly cheerleader stomping on the sidelines with a pearl smile and shiny blonde hair. She was fake and existed only in the etched memories of bystanders.

Perhaps it is a like a moment during a vicious war when a soldier takes a second to smell the honeysuckle of a new fresh summer though too soon has to turn around to the char.

Though fleeting, it may be best to accept the real neverending story ... the one of the ordinary ... the daily ... the mending ... the broken ...

A Towel Of Fond Sudsy Memories

As I was semi-snoozing by the pool over the weekend, a man caught my eye when he pulled out a lounger and began to prepare for his sunning. He was shaking out a huge red, white, and blue beach towel which was designed to replicate a can of Budweiser. Immediately, I began to get all sentimental and sad.

In case you don't know, St. Louis is world headquarters and home to Anheuser-Busch brewing company - number one in the world. Last week it was announced that foreign company InBev has elicited a hostile takeover of our American brew. Since then St. Louis has been in chaos as protesters march downtown and flock to http://www.saveab.com/ in hopes of signing a petition that will probably go nowhere.

After reading the New York Times article today depicting the debacles of August Busch IV, CEO, I was almost amongst a few of my peers who conclude that the spoiled good-ole-boys-club member should go down in flames but then ... I thought of the towel.

Though AB products are not amongst my favorite suds, they do hold a special place in my heart. Amongst all St. Louis iconery, they are second only to the Arch and impose a great camaraderie amongst the locals that would be sorely missed. Many of my favorite St. Louis experiences surround AB:

1. Catching wind of the enticing sweet smell of yeast and hops brewing as I cruise down I-55.
2. Watching the Cardinals hit homers at Busch Stadium.
3. Working for AB Information Technology to monitor brewery software.
4. Participating in AB charity fundraisers.
5. Then, my fave: Grant's Farm. Yeah, it's a tiny little theme park but I would greatly miss my regular pilgrimages to ride the tram as it gets stuck in animal "traffic." Then, getting my shoelaces chewed on by the goats as I sip on the free Amber-Bock. Later, I always complain that the exotic animals should be sent back home but then I drink some more brew and am content. I was there last Christmas for the special pageants and then again last month for a university scholarship fundraiser.

I suppose the brewery would continue on but it wouldn't be the same and all theme parks would be sold. If I was responsible for an empire that had taken generations to build, then I would have assured that nothing like this would even be possible. I do know that if the takeover succeeds then I vow, like the rest, to never drink another AB / InBev-related product. Yeah, that won't be too much of a change for me but ... that towel ... :o(

etarelotni

Cardiologist: "This medicine is the only effective drug for her condition. She cannot have good mental health if she has a cardiovascular event. Give her an anti-depressant that she can tolerate better."

Psychiatrist: "She cannot tolerate other anti-depressants. What is the good of treating her heart condition with a drug if it causes her to have no will to live and no quality of life? Give her another heart drug that she can tolerate better."

Internist: "She is intolerant to all medications and chemicals. Let's take out her blood instead."

Hematologist: "Interesting blood. Let's run allot of tests on it. She can tolerate that."

Psychotherapist: "It's simply intolerable to undo all the progress I have made with her over the past decade because of you pill-pushers who can't get your acts together."

Me: "Why am I so intolerant?"

they beta blocked my brain

... so that now nothing works right ...

well, except my heart works better ... but i am more broken or am i?

Not Quite So Easy or Something Unknown Is In Charge

Since my earliest suicide attempt in fifth grade, I've had countless arguments with death.

I've tried to think back at what was going through my head at such a young age that would lead me to think death would be the answer and the only thing I can conclude is that my interpretation had been that death was the way to make pain stop -- the only escape.

Children do not generally really understand death but despite my growing in age and knowledge, I have to admit that my death belief has remained unchanged since those early years. The only thing that has changed is my wondering about what will happen to me after I die and even that had not stopped me from trying. The only thing that has stopped me is my utter failure at such attempts and the trouble it gets me into.

Oddly enough, I do not know of anyone (personally) who has actually succeeded at suicide but I cannot begin to count how many people I DO know who have attempted and failed. When I worked in social services, I had clients who had shot themselves in the head, doused themselves with gas and lit a match, electrocuted themselves, etc, but yet they STILL survived. The whole idea that it is a "choice" is greatly questionable.

Since becoming ill, I had been contemplating that I could finally be coming close to the opportunity of a fatal disease. At first, I was relieved but as the weeks have passed I have become very confused and have not known what I want. Being in and out of the hospital, going to the cancer center, physically suffering and feeling sick all the time, missing out on the few things I enjoy -- all these things that I would think would make me want death even more were actually confusing me.

Don't worry, I have not become a lover of life who will now blog in a Pollyanna-like-fashion, but earlier this evening I was discussing this with someone and it was inferred that perhaps my view of death itself is changing. Even if I were to get a fatal diagnosis, it would probably NOT be that with a prognosis of a few weeks but instead I would suffer long and hard.

Though it happens to people every day and some within a matter of unexpected seconds, it is apparently very very hard to die quickly for the majority of people. Many of those patients at the cancer center had been suffering for many many years. I had always said that I do not fear death from riding the Ninja but I DO fear suffering for the rest of my life from a severe injury.

Bottom line at this time is that it appears that there is no "BANG - here's your diagnosis and ticket to an ever-lasting vacation." It just doesn't seem to exist and I don't know how I -- Ms Professional Smart-Ass - would have ever believed such a thing in the first place ... except that I was only in fifth grade ... and apparently never grew up in some areas ... but that's another blog entirely. I'm probably going to be the oldest person to ever have lived.

That Crazy Lady on the Street? Yeah - That's Me ...

The plan for the day was to get some stuff done in the apartment and then head out somewhere to study for another M$ exam. Nothing was working right so I decided to head to the pool to clear my head and take a break with the assumption that I was too stressed and needed some air, exercise, and distraction.

After about an hour at the pool, the screeching noise of some kid started to grate on my nerves in such an overwhelming out-of-proportion level that I had to immediately leave the pool and head back home.

Back at the apartment, I could hear my neighbor begin to vacuum. Honestly, it sounded like a freight train -- to my ears only I am sure.

Off to the library I went with the assurance that I would have no noise and could concentrate on this bastard test. It may be helpful to mention that these tests tend to cause some sort of psychiatric panic crisis in me just to think about it so it is very crucial that I be gentle and try to accommodate my anxiety and plan for any stress surrounding the studying for this monster.

The library was fresh and cool so I headed up to the top level that is reserved for quite study only. Once settled down and logged in, I can hear people chattering, kids giggling, pens dropping, and books thumping. By now my heart is pounding in panic that I will not be able to pass this test (there are negative consequences for not passing this test.) After pounding baroque music through my ear-buds, the situation does not improve and I relocate myself to one of the special noise-proof chamber rooms surrounded by Plexiglas or something.

In less that five minutes into my timed practice exam, I can hear a kid two chambers over tossing himself against the glass as his adult-person glazed into a monitor oblivious to this kid's behavior. So that is it -- the point of complete unfraying -- the point where all was lost.

I packed up my belongings, exited the chamber and announced to the whole floor, complete with mild profanities and such, regarding the importance of quiet libraries. I then proceeded to pound my flip-flops down the spiral-tiled staircase continuing to yell something the effect of "HOW'S THIS FOR QUIET?! CAN YOU HEAR THIS?! WELL HOW ABOUT..." etc.

I somehow made it out the building without the security guards assistance but an enormous guttural agonizing sound began to escape from the depths of parts unknown. Once I made it home, I had to put ear-plugs into my ears and crawl under sheets to drown out each and every noise that I could feel penetrating into my skull. It was as if my nerves had been completely ripped open and any self-control was long gone.

Then, as strangely as it came upon me, I practically passed out into a sleep as if someone had shot me up with ativan.

That I've been assured that the latest behavioral outburst of the day is medication-induced is of little consolation. Especially since it wasn't that long ago that I made similar profane announcements in a department store and then threw a vacuum cleaner in another.

I do not take illegal drugs, just the one's prescribed to me. This is what I get. I'm at a loss.

Chronic Leukocytosis and the Quandary of Self-Ruination

So it was another tough week. I managed to put in fifty hours at work only to still desperately NOT keep up with my work while spending six extra business hours running around satisfying medical requests for my bodily fluids and such.

It was my first visit to a cancer center and I guess I expected patients as miserable as myself but was surprised as they all chatted with each other and went merrily around with their bald heads, caps, and wigs. I'd always known that potentially terminal patients tend to draw from a strength that most of us, incorrectly, do not believe is inside ourselves.

I've been in bad situations where a bizarre well of bravery spewed open leaving me to handle the storm admirably well only to crash afterwards into a sopping blubbering mess.

I do not even have a cancer diagnosis but when I went downstairs for my labs I began to cry uncontrollably as I waited for more blood to be sucked from my body. My thought was: "Are these people really optimistic or have they reached the point where they realize that they may have an opportunity to escape this misery?" Which would / do I want? Right now I'm too tired to care.

Nocturnal Chatterings #18

--so here we are again ....

+ yep ...

--i was thinking about what that lady said to me today about how i need to know what i want in life.

+ oh?

--i've always had a goal. always. first, they were scholastic-related. second, they were job-related. then i decided that i want more of a life outside of these things.

+ like what?

--well ... to have fun ... motorcycle ... travel ... a home with people ... that last one is a kicker since i've never lived in the same house with people and enjoyed it ... what would it be like to be around people during the evenings or have a place to go to hang out with them and feel comfortable and not stupid ...

--i thought i could get close enough to the first few ... with a decent salary then why could i not?

+ well, you've been sick ...

--yeah but it's more than that, right? i don't even want to sleep at night anymore - i just want to WANT to sleep ... for the most part i had not been ABLE to sleep ...

+ maybe you're just skewed right now from the drugs.

+ ... OR ... maybe you need to make a decision

--like what?

+ like whether or not you even want to live a life or not ... you have been hoping for, like, to have a myeloproliferative lukemia ... hellooooo?? ... then you wonder how and when you would tell people if you were dying or if you would fight the lukemia or let it take it's toll ... next thing you're contemplating whether or not to take the cats with you should you die ...

--what if i can't decide?

+ then you are looking at your life now as it is ... but you will decide one way or the other, you always do ... there are also some things that you HAVE to let go of if you are to move on with anything ever ... the living in limbo is bad ... it's not the first time you've cared for others more than your own well-being but this time it's really kicking you in the ass ... or heart ... or kidneys ... or spleen ... or

--stop, i get the point.

+ do you?

--no, not really. not enough to move on anything.

+ well, perhaps this current state of crappness is a continual kick in the ass ... how much damage will you let it do?

--i guess that goes back to the original question of do i really want to live. i think i have tried but never known living and so i don't have a clue to it's worth. everyone else seems damn damn miserable.

Today I Went In to Work To Find:

• that half our staff is under one company name the other with a different company name.
• that I have not been paid and was supposed to have been paid last week so I have no money.
• that the company is yet again in health-care negotiations. wasn't this decided already?
• that one of our two best developers is leaving (unless he can strangle more money from the big guy).
• that I still don't know how to do my job.
• that there were injuries last week due to an electronic fly-swatter experiment.

why am I not too stressed about it? because I am tired.

why don't I leave? because I am tired and there is less political crap here.

I Don't Have A Title For This One Either

so after yesterday's fiasco with the psycho-psycho-therapist my psych doc came into the office today to check me out. he took my blood pressure and wondered if i even have one anymore. it appeared to be 100/100 ? oh, and where did my pulse go and how am i able to walk he ranted. i dunno but i'm damn tired and can't find my playstation controller so i am stuck with the psp until i can locate it.

I Don't Have a Title for This One

The beta-blockers have swarmed over my mood -- gnawing on it like nothing I've experienced in years by engulfing me with the most primitive crying spells and desperate urges to die despite the means available. I have moments of rationale that tell me that this will not last, will surely pass, and that once it is over I can resume my previous state of misery.

Surprisingly, I decided to seek counsel with someone outside my normal realm: a therapist in a more public sector -- one covered by insurance as opposed to my usual fare of the private practice (aka, she's out of town). I know when I'm headed to the bad place and that any attempt to end my breathing will result in only making matters worse.

I told myself that this would be a good thing. After all, I only need to vent and seek reassurance during this trying phase so surely someone even semi-trained could give at least this.

I was wrong.

Of course I had expected that she would need to take the usual history and that there would be some paperwork but so much had escaped my memory as to how these soul-suckers operate.

Being upfront, I informed her that I already have a therapist but that she and her backup are out of town so what I needed today was someone to listen as I vented. The crone never let me get any further.

Before I knew it, I was being asked about my sexual behaviors and my marital separation when, at some point, she decided that she would solve my medical dilemma herself. What she would do, she claimed, was get all three of my doctors together on the phone and we would immediately resolve this beta-blocker-depression problem (at 4pm on a Friday).

After all the paperwork, there was no stopping her and it was clear that she had a mission beyond my control. She managed to get my psychiatrist on the conference call but could reach none others and sent me out to phone my internist and my cardiologist to inform them of the plan. I went to a phone and pretended to dial as she yammered at the psych doc. She did not even noticed that I never actually spoke to anyone on the phone but it didn't matter because it wasn't very long that she decided that my hour was up and I would have to resolve this at my next appointments.

I did not reschedule; however I was reminded of how I ended up in so many inpatient facilities growing up by being sent to these truly incompetent broken people controlled by paperwork and legal liabilities instead of care for their patient.

During my drive home, I received a call from the psych doc pretty much asking me WTF?

I dunno ... it did distract me from my misery but now it is nighttime and I am stuck here again feeling myself sliding into the pit again. Honestly, I did not think I would be here again and have never fully believed in the power of chemicals over one's depressive state. I've always believed that the way to be rid of depression was to confront the source and deal with it but between the beta-blockers and listening to my drunken (I hope) upstairs neighbor bellowing out "Sweet Home Alabaaaaammmmmaaa.." (again) I really dunno.

status: released from heart hospital today with double the beta-blockers for "Inappropriate Sinus Tachycardia" and an appointment with a hematologist for an unexplained high white cell count

fact: beta-blockers increase depression significantly with me already being in the shitter.

result: me wondering how to hold down a job while crying and trying not to purposely put myself into cardiac arrest

i've come so far but can't seem to tread fast enough to hide this i will lose my job if i crash

none

i guess you don't realize

how much you've lit up my life

and how hard it became

when i stopped lighting up yours

i guess you don't realize

that i've been waiting and hoping

that we would become worth the fight

to you

i guess it is time for me to realize

that you are not coming for me or yourself

and that a life with you means more of a life alone

that i've known too much of already

this is literally breaking my heart

to just not harm yours

but i don't think you realize that either

Yo' Duckets

So, here is what it has come down to: the "High Deductible Health Plan" with a Health Savings Account (HSA). If you are healthy and your employer puts money into your HSA then you might not ever have to pay much in health care. Employer will place money into your HSA account and you can use that if you go to the doctor and can also take it with you if you go to another company. However, if you or your family member is sick or has an accident then you may pay a deductible of $5,600 for yourself or up to $11,200 for your family.

It could encourage the unhealthy to get healthy but I don't have $5,600 available. I received my COBRA bill of $1500 in the mail today and I'm probably going to have to either pull from savings for that or put it on credit. I may have to keep the COBRA for a while until I get healthy or die.

I Was Drowning, Not Waving

After another series of critical Holter readings, I finally made my inevitable trip to the ER. As I laid alone in the little white room, I realized that I genuinely hoped that they would come back with some formidable news of my pending departure from this world so that I would never have to go back to life as I have known it. I had suspected this before about myself -- that perhaps I harbored a secret death wish -- but had assumed it was just part of my brooding melancholic personality.

But then the doctor came back and began to explain that all my organs are structurally fine and that no damage has been done so I bit back my tears in pretend relief.

Making the situation worse, he went on to tell me that the whole situation can be remedied with a simple beta-blocker. This made no sense to me as pills have not really helped me before. After all, there has to be a logical reason as to why my heart rate increases by 50 bpm by my just standing up. He claimed that the best thing for this situation is to just treat the symptoms. I didn't bother to explain to him that my heart was actually overcompensating for some other problem and that the real solution rests in discovering the problem and fixing it. I can only assume that if my heart is no longer able to compensate for the mysterious malady then something else is going to come to haunt me later and I will continue to suffer. However, it was clear that he was ready to dismiss me as a hysteric so he could go about his day.

I was reminded of the Merideth character in Grey's Anatomy. Meredith was doing rounds at the local hospital when the announcement came that a ferry had crashed and all medical personnel were needed. She rushed to the site and dove into the water to save a girl. In the process, she became entangled or something and began to drown. Despite the fact that she was an excellent swimmer, she did not even try to rescue herself but let the water engulf her lungs as she sank to the bottom. Of course, she is a main character in the show and someone drug her out ... but the point is that she didn't even struggle and that is how I felt lying in the ER bed. If there were an ocean that I could have jumped into at that moment then I would have let myself drown.

(One Motorcycle Without a Key) + (One Holter Monitor) = 0 Ride For a While

All week I've been looking forward to an annual motorcycle ride of over 100 riders. All the mods on my bike that I had planned were finished and I was ready to go. I knew I had to take it easy due to my current health issues but had carefully planned my diet and woke up this morning to eat plenty and hydrate myself enough. Even if I could ride only half the ride then I would be glad but then there was the walk from my apartment to my vehicle and that's when it all started going downhill.

I became short of breath with minor chest pain so I let the Holter do it's thing and when I got to where I keep my bike I phoned in the cardio results. I knew it wasn't good when they asked me to take more recordings but when the call was over I went about my business and pumped up my pre-ride jams. About five minutes later, I receive a phone call from a doctor informing me that a sinus tachycardia of 150-160 is not good and went on to interrogate me. My rate was down by then but I was told to lay down for the rest of the day and if I have any more such incidents then to go to the ER while he consults with my primary doc.

No way was this going to destroy my ride so I thought that AT LEAST I could ride the few miles to the rendezvous point and see everyone off and maybe meet them at the end later, right? Well, when I went to get gas, my motorcycle key broke in the tank. Yep, there I was with my sick holter monitor and a 400-pound locked Ninja with no key.

In the end, it took two flatbed trucks (don't ask) to haul that beast back to the house while the neighbors came out to watch and snicker at the tiny Ninja girl who can't get her shit right and should be on a tiny scooter instead.

And now I have no clue what is wrong with me and I have to make a plan as to how I am going to fake insurance again if I have to go to the ER (I'm still awaiting COBRA from my previous job because my employer is still struggling with the HMOs).

No Healing In Health Care: The Plight of Small Businesses

Many people have been appalled by my employer's request for staff not to seek medical care unless absolutely necessary. It really does sound horrible but having worked at a health insurance organization and having seen the things I've seen, it would be wrong of me to judge too harshly.

Yeah, you've heard it all by now -- employer health care costs have risen an average of 15% each year over five years to an average of about $700 per month per employee, according to surveys by The Kaiser Family Institute and The National Association of Health Underwriters. As a result, 47% of America's small businesses can provide no health coverage at all.

But how can Missouri even ALLOW insurance carriers to charge 207% ABOVE their retail rate? In and of itself, that seems just criminal. Given that over 99% of our economy is driven by small businesses, it is no wonder that our economy is suffering.

Are you aware that insurance companies can get insurance (referred to as reinsurance) of their own to cover financially-devastating claims? (A catastrophic claim might consist of someone being diagnosed with Hemophilia or having a child needing Human Growth Hormone shots.) As of 1999, United Health Care maintained a 50% Quota share with it's reinsurance company. I'm no accountant, but that seems like a nice-enough chunk of comfortable padding to NOT have to charge 207% above retail.

Another thing that blows me away is the whole concept of HIPPA protecting my privacy. If my health records are so protected and private then why I am I required to complete a disclosure form (see above) detailing my intimate personal health details when obtaining new insurance? If I were a radical then I would suspect that HIPPA was actually created so that insurance companies can get to my health records and either deny me care for pre-existing conditions or charge me an extra 207%.

So ... it's hard to blame my boss for wanting to keep his business and the rest of us employed. It's a tough situation. If one of us goes to the doctor and gets a diagnosis of Hemophilia then the whole company will not be able to ever get health care again. He fought with United Healthcare for at least two months, has been one the phone negotiating with other companies all week, and has claimed he will cover any care that we need out of his own pocket. Gotta look higher than the little guy on this one ... after all, he may be paying for the echo cardiogram I got yesterday and the Holter monitor I have to wear for the next month.

Avoiding Bed

so i get ready for bed ... i get my toofers all flossed and clean then head off to bed ... then turn around and redirect elsewhere ... i don't know if i don't want to have to wake up to another day or just don't want to lose another day ... next thing i know is that i'm hungry for double-dark milanos with milk but already spent time on the teeth ... every night ... got my holter monitor today ... don't know if that will get paid for or if they'll cancel it mid-way due to lack of insurance ... yeah, i have something to post about that but still can't quite grasp the insanity of it ...

No Healing In Health Care

So ... I've blogged quite a bit about health care woes as the past couple of years have been filled with me being sick with one thing or another. I took a new job to get more pay and less stress in the hopes that would help my health.

Since I've been at the job, I've received multiple e-mails requesting that employees not make any medical appointments due to United Healthcare refusing to deliver on their quotes. As I awaited coverage, my blood pressure continued to rise, then my kidneys started bleeding, and I was forced to go to the doctor who ordered more tests, most of which, I had to delay. Yesterday, I was finally able to schedule my echo cardiogram and heart monitor setup to make sure I'm not going to go into cardiac arrest and then today I receive this e-mail:

Team – we’ve had a new development in the ongoing Health Insurance saga. We finally received the paperwork from UHC to start our new group policy, but the rates were 207% higher than what we were originally quoted. The 207% increase reflects the most that the State of Missouri allows a carrier to charge over their “retail” rate. The increase was due to our overall health rating and past medical history. We are taking steps to address the situation and hope to have a solution soon. Again, while we go through this process, please attempt to delay any medical visits you can.

With all the stress, I burst into tears and came home. I have no good response at this time.

Update From the Frontlines

Still breathing here despite the thickness of the soiled and sour air. I allow myself to remain under merciless control of the ruthless forces of illness, relationships, and work. Pleading, I tell myself to just stop it all -- GET A GRIP AND MAKE IT STOP.

Intellectually I know that I can just get the divorce, NOT cave to the pressures of work, and live outside in the world of good health instead of raising my blood pressure behind a computer.

So why don't I? What will it take? A heart-attack, stroke, renal failure? I've got to get control ... maybe make small steps and then take them. After all, what do I have to lose? End up living on the street? Tonight I took my first blood pressure pill. Yesterday I did a 24-hour-urine collection to analyze my kidney functions and then started antibiotics for about the fifth time in the past year of such unknown infections and next week I start wearing a heart monitor.

Yep, something is knocking at my door but I don't seem to know how to turn the knob.

Why Not Today?

1. a week ago i had a little crash on the ninja.

why this is bad: it weighs 400 lbs. and i can't pick it up. this is so stupid, but for me, the ninja represents some sort of emotional freedom and that is why i ride. so ... in other words, i can't control my freedom. if someone else has to pick it up for me, then it is not freedom.

2. i've just walked into a new job where some type of political / social problems are occurring and today it fell right on top of me. nothing new, this is everywhere.

why this is bad: i'm tired ... really tired. i don't want to compete anymore. i don't want to work 12 - 15 hours a day to prove something. really, i don't have anything to prove - REALLY. i don't know this technology. i have a skillset - this is not it. i don't know shit about it and don't want to spend my personal time to learn. been there - done it - look where i am NOT.

3. a fellow female biker went down this weekend in a major crash. i asked some of the others in our group if we should send flowers. i received an e-mail from one in our group that pretty much said that the biker is not the "flower" type and this is not "what we do".

why this is bad: as always, like everyone, i want a sense of belongingness. i have tried but i don't get it. i never get it. i am the geek. i can try to be a bad-ass but i am not. i am not a party girl. i never have been. i'm not even the square in any group but the damn polygon. for once, please, just for once. if it weren't for me phoning or emailing others then i would have no personal contact with anyone. i could go a whole week without any personal contact with anyone. yes, i know it is my own doing in some indirect way. today, i had some physical therapy for my neck and spine and i had to go through my multiplication tables to NOT cry that someone was actually touching me and speaking to me. she even offered a freebie so i went to calculating division.

4. i get dragged down by superficial problems.

why this is bad: because there is so much junk underneath that i cannot seem to unload.

5. a therapist was supposed to phone me tonight to discuss my lethality but forgot.

why this is bad: ....duh...

6. i'm writing this blog post.

why this is bad: well ... i expect i don't need to explain that.

The Non-Violence Of Child Predators

Today Missouri governor Matt Blunt announced his continued pursuit of allowing the death penalty for violent child predators. If you've read my blog at any length then you know I support this initiative; however, you may also predict my next statement: "What exactly is the definition of a NON-violent child predator?" An oxymoron?

Perhaps this is just an issue of verbiage but I do wonder how the government will proceed with handling the absolutely massive numbers of child predators out there (if they are caught). Personally, I have no problem with killing them all but I doubt the majority of the general public would concur -- especially when it is the next-door neighbor and close-friend who is caught molesting his or her own child. Parents ARE a good majority of child predators, you know -- they just do not get successfully reported.

In any event, if this passes then there will be allot of specifics to work out but it would be worth it. I never thought I would say that about the death penalty but it seems to me that the horrific ramifications that these rapists end up passing through generations constitutes such extreme measures.

Quake It As You Will

One-Hundred and Fifty-Seven miles away from my bed at about 4:37am today, the Earth started to rumble. Approximately seven minutes earlier, I had been awoken by the sound of growling cats crashing about. I thought that they were up to their shenanigans again, moaned at them, and then rolled back over to sleep but never made it back to Z-Land because a few minutes later my bed began to shake, the windows rattled, and strewn jewelry tingled on my dresser.

I immediately shot up in bed wondering if I was dreaming or having a strange side-effect to my latest medications. But wait, there were the cats - they were real and they weren't looking so good. Eventually, the movement stopped and I listened for my neighbor upstairs moving about to confirm that it was not my imagination but there was no noise. After inspecting the apartment and finding no signs of damage, I clicked on the television for any emergency warnings but there were none. Still drugged and drowsy, I returned to sleep with a headache.

When the alarm clock went off a few hours later, I recalled the strange event and switched the tube on to the news and sure enough there had been an earthquake. It was then that I became severely afraid and noticed a knot on my forehead beginning to bruise. I phoned the almost-ex-husband to check on him and the house but there was no answer. For the who-knows-how-many-times-this-week, I realized the vast immensity of my aloneness in this world. An earthquake had occurred and I had no human to give or from whom to receive support. I choked my tears back and focused on getting to work.

Not even an hour into the workday, my cubicle walls started to shake, my monitors jiggled, and it was happening again. People began to panic as the world around us became a vertigo jungle. We pretty much tried to shrug it off with jokes but none of us have lived in California so we hadn't experienced anything like this. We all knew it could be much worse ... perhaps, that's why we were bothered. I think my degree of fear was intensified due to having grown up along the infamous New Madrid Fault. Nevertheless, I received the email a few minutes later from the almost-ex who was wondering if I was okay and my fear diminished significantly.

Not allot of work got done in our office this morning but something happened and it was more odd than the seismic activity. It was just the day before that I was mapping out my plan regarding how I was going to cope with the many trials of divorce and now a spot of damned hope was back again. Quakes come in all forms.

Please Pull The Plug

When I was younger, I volunteered in a nursing home. This was my first experience with Alzheimer’s. I was bothered by the things I saw but I didn’t quite grasp the immensity of the disease.

After graduate school, I worked many rotations in a geriatric psychiatric ward which mostly consisted of various types of dementia and Alzheimer’s. This time round, it was hard NOT to miss the devastation heaped upon the patients as well as the families.

Rich, poor, educated, uneducated – nothing mattered that caused these individuals to become so ill.

The reason I was touched so significantly is because they were not always delusional. It wasn’t their confusion or the bizarreness of their behavior but it was the look in their eyes during those moments of sanity (and those moments did exist) that my heart broke for them. Only the most hard-hearted could ignore the extreme trapped, helpless, and panicked piercing expressions that begged for help when their mouths often could not. I’ve witnessed the same scenario with schizophrenics and other psychotic disordered individuals.

I vowed suicide should I ever find myself to be heading in such a state. I’d rather die the most grotesque miserable death than experience the slow torture of a person whose own mind has betrayed him or her.

Long ago, when my body was under possession of others the only thing I had was my mind. I may not have been considered very smart but under my hood I could make a joke or go anywhere I pleased and no one heard or knew. Later, I discovered could even train my mind in such matters that I could go to college and escape so that my body would not have to return.

This past week, my own mind has betrayed me in such a way that I have gone to extremes just to cope. It comes and goes and they say it will not last but I’ve seen too much to not be overcome with such complete fear. As harrowed as my mind may be in it’s “normality”, I do hear-by declare that without my mind I do not want my body to breathe. I am not so fortunate to have someone listen to my eyes and bring me clean underwear so if there is a God then it is my hope that I am heard.

Letter Unsent

Dearest,

You are too busy to do any calling all week yet tonight I should be so lucky as to receive a last-minute call late evening with the message request for dinner. You have no clue what has been going on this week and how afraid I have been. Worse yet, if we lived together it would be the same situation as you would still be so clueless. I would only be of interest should it be dinnertime.

I have no idea what is going to happen to me and I can’t turn to you – the person who I had trusted would be there as long as we were living.

So, have dinner with yourself. That is what I have pretty much been doing for the past ten years.

Unknown Expectations

They tell me not to expect anything from him so that I will not get hurt. Likewise, they would also say that it is not fair to expect something without asking. The problem with both of these scenarios is that I will expect something without even realizing I was expecting it and then the next thing I know is that it doesn't happen and I am lying flat on the ground again -- long-term bad habit of mine.



It's my opinion though, that sometimes certain expectations come with the package. For example, if I buy a new car then a steering wheel, seats, and motor are expected.



In any event, the referenced un-fulfilled expectations are what caused me to leave in the first place so why I am blabbering about it still is beyond me. Time to throw in the cards and end the whole ordeal. I've made attempts but if he isn't wanting to win the relationship back and make it work then the kindest thing I can do for myself is to kill it once and for all. It's like watching your favorite horse spin around in agony - unable to get off the ground due to pain and missing legs ... just have mercy and shoot it.



I should not have had to go through this week alone and he has no clue about any of it. Yep, save up for a gun and shoot it.

Here You Go Well-Tolerated Strength of Craziness

I don't know if I believe it anymore but whatever it is - IT IS.

It was about this time last year that I was tossed in the throws of death while weaning off Effexor - the worst of worsts. You'll have to track down the serotonin-syndrome blog posts themselves because I'm too cranky to link you to them.

"Lexapro has the least side-effects for people like you," spoken by the medical director himself. I had hope.

In any event, here I am having gone three whole days without the Lexapro. For the past couple of weeks I took half a tab every other day. In one day my blood pressure was 150/120 then 90/70 and my heart-rate would be 130. I have been checking my vitals so often I feel like a hysteric - a hypochondriac - a near-psychotic - Munchhausen's by non-proxy.

Now I'm a labiling-roller-coastering rapid-cycler wondering about the proper DSM. I don't know what the hell is going on but I'll be writing my own scripts from now on: etoh.

They tell me to be patient because it will take time for my body to adjust but hell, I've blown a grand this past week alone, raged like a maniac, cried a swamp, and currently ready to slice out a vein.