Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I am losing my fricking mind.

Harry had a series of seizures yesterday, accompanied by a feeling of impending doom. Just so you know, the impending doom part is potentially a bad thing. If you ever have it, seek help STAT. It may be the only warning you get.

So Harry, against my suggestion, went to the same hospital that murdered Mummers...and ended up involuntarily committed.

No, I'm not kidding; they're treating it as a psych issue.

So I am finding a doctor to accept his transfer so that I can phone an ambulance to pick him up.

Christ on a cracker.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Thursday, February 17, 2011

I am Gozer, The Destructor.

It is official:  I *am* Death.

To make a long story short, This Guy was -- was -- living with a 30+ year-long friend of his. This friend turned up dead last evening, at 42, from what appears right now to have been an epileptic fit. TG keeps saying he aspirated (which is vague, TG is only guessing), but my opinion is he went into Status sometime yesterday mid-afternoon. I am basing my guess off the fact that Friend was not completely compliant in his meds dosing (self-admittedly; i talked with him about it), and had been dieting  since January. He had a huge seizure a few weeks ago, wrote it off as forgetting his meds, and now this. I tried to explain to TG, but couldn't get a word in edgewise, so i figured he needed to talk. Everyone deals with death and loss differently, plus my trying to explain Status seemed to irritate him, plus the autopsy will say what happened, so it is a non-issue, i just mentioned it because TG kept saying he wished he knew what happened, etc...

So I have suspended dumping TG for the moment. And i am regretful that i didn't fuss more at Friend when we last spoke about his seizures. I suggested adding Valium or Ativan for a few months, and he had said he would look into it, which always means nothing will get done.

I have to get back to writing a conference submission, but just wanted to wander over here and be depressing for a moment. This Blogger interface sucks, so i may have a repeated sentence down below that i cannot access at the moment. Sorries.

I got irritated at TG for lecturing me on not posting anything to Facebook; TG has all the hallmarks of a man who is accustomed to dealing with completely incompetent women and has become a little sexist as a result. When TG was lecturing me, he was waiting for the ME to show up (Friend was in full rigor when TG found him), and Friend's whole family didn't know yet, so why would *I* be posting anything??? I've only known Friend for a little over a year; my posting anything would be a total drama queen move, especially at that point in time. But i figured that TG was traumatised, so other than saying 'of course', i did nothing but listen to the rest of the lecture.

Okay...back to writing and stuff. I just needed to vent and be depressing.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

I know, I know...

I haven't been a good blogger. I am still in the same state as ever, and am putting in resumes in every ridiculous place I can come up with. I am at my doctor's right now; yes, I am still stressed. I am also still upset with This Guy, and I know...he needs to go. Everyone is telling me this. Sabra started emailing me again, and I am behind in writing as always. I am worried for my brother still, and wishing everything would just settle down; I need peace.

One of the positions I applied for requires immediate relocation; this further scares the crap out of me because I do not know the area, and want to make sure my cats would be safe. I am just a mess of nerves about everything. I have tried to think of the easiest way(s) to relocate...whether getting me and my crap up there and boarding my cats here for a week would be better...I just don't know. I have these spells where I feel as if everything I do will be wrong, and I am just trying to minimise that. And I do not want to leave Butler II, but I cannot take him, I don't think. There is too much to consider, it seems. I feel overwhelmed.

Today I had hoped to be able to talk to This Guy, but then he popped up with more drama; I do not know how to explain this other than to say that to him, I am a paragraph, and he is a book. When he asked how I was (after telling me all about his day), I started by saying, 'well...' and then he interrupted with 'same shit, different day?', and I was just angry beyond belief at that point. Instead of picking up on that, he started talking about an ex of his (whom he calls his 'best friend', leaving me to wonder who the 'psychopathic retard' in his life would be) who has a child that isn't his, but whom he wants to call his son, which is great, except she and her family have apparently made it clear to him that he is unwanted as a father figure. Further, she has finally tracked down the biological father, and is engaged to yet another man.

Now here is where my seeing things as they really are, stripped of all pretense and glamour, really fucks me over; about six-ish years ago (probably closer to seven), TG and this woman parted ways as friends. They had broken up years before, and had finally gotten on each others' nerves enough that they told each other to fuck off and die. Months pass, and one night she turns up on his doorstep...a few months pregnant. She feeds him this story of how she 'must' have been drugged and raped, blah, blah, blah. He is convinced of this because of her description of how she drank a weird-tasting drink, or somesuch. And so then they were back together, but as friends, with him agreeing to play 'daddy'. Okay, fine. 

Only that's not the story as my brain translates it. What *I* hear is that she got herself knocked up by some deadbeat, and after going through a quick mental list of likely candidates to step up and play house, she settles on This Guy because he is a near-perfect combination of drama-loving, white-knighting gullibility who is also too self-absorbed to ever actually sit down and subject some of the shite she is manufacturing to any degree of analysis or scepticism, perfect to step in and swallow this hook, line, and sinker because of the ego boost being Mr White Knight provides. Only she forgot about the part where she cannot really stand him, nor he her. So after a couple years of fighting and psychoness, combined with being reminded repeatedly that he actually *isn't* the 'real' father and so needs to STFU & DIAF, he finally moves away to be with his *actual* son, who lives here (which, IMO, says a lot about how far he'll go for an ego boost -- essentially throwing over his real son because the situation with this othe 'son' better fed into his self-image and drama needs until there was more ego insult than reward, which is when he stepped out). So after a few years of him gone, she pops up with a fiance and miraculously knowing who the bio father is and she proved it with testing just the past month or so when she needed child support from aforementioned baby daddy...who was, the way I originally heard the story, just this Mysterious Dude. Funny, that. It is so strange how money can clear away the effects of Rohypnol (which is what TG, in all his wisdom, has deduced she was dosed with...which probably isn't so, even if she were dosed with something), iddnit?

I know -- I am 'too hard' on people; I hear this all the time. The only thing is, I am more often than not right. In fact, I'd bet money on the fact that I am spot on with this one.

Butsoanyway, so I got really angry that her fuckery (she made some comment that he thought was about him, but wasn't) eclipses anything I might think or feel, and I told him that i didn't care and had to work. Then he sent a text a couple hours later that said something like 'r u angry at me?', and I was just seeing spots; textspeak should be used by anyone over twelve as humour ONLY. Period. At his age, that's just laziness.

=====and then time passes======

Okay, after royally fucking up Valentine's Day by (1) not doing anything and (2) posting some stuff on my wall that was supposed to be funny, but considering he didn't do anything for my birthday or Christmas (not even a card), and then not even posting a traditional 'happy Valentine's Day' on my wall, ended up really pissing off some of my family and friends, because at that point it came off as a very disrespectful remark (basically saying 'it's V-Day; come over and do me'). And after one of my friends told him off (i had to delete the thread), now he wants us to 'talk'.

Grrr...I have to go teach now. More later. 

Monday, February 14, 2011

Happy V-Day That Was

I hope everyone had a nice end to the Holiday Season. I have a longer post, but can't find it in Drafts. I am much the same, working and writing my ass off, and did nothing notable for Valentine's Day other than get completely disrespected on my Facebook wall.

I am just tired. Still applying my ass off, and trying to figure out how I can take my four cats *and* Butler II with me. Don't know how yet, but...I'm thinking.

I have to get up massively early in the morning, but I am so irate that I am having a hard time calming down. So...it's medication time, I guess. Dear Klonopin: we have to stop meeting like this. :-/

I do sometimes wonder whose life I think I am living that I expect things to be nice or go smoothly. Sheesh.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

Old-timer's Disease

If it weren't for this blog, I wouldn't be able to remember the who-what-when-where-why of half my life. I have a post from Friday a-comin', and I need to sleep, but can't. Everyone is as okay as they can be. Monday at my gyn's, I found out that the UTI I haven't been able to shake is due to it not being a 'standard' UTI; it's an enterococcal infection, which is a rarity outside of a hospital, or a person who has to, say, self-cath or something. I'm not back on antibiotic yet; I've been off and on cipro and septra since November, and my gyn is concerned that I need vancomycin or have a resistant strain (which would be bad). Right now the thinking is that I picked it up whilst with Mummers in hospital August - October, and just didn't notice the UTI until after her death because of the stress. I'm not infectious, just miserable. But according to my gyn, harbouring a low-level enterococcal infection god-knows-where (it could be in my kidneys, bladder only, or have spread out by now) explains a lot of things, from my constant tiredness to my depression. Let's hope that's true, because I honestly feel as if I've been dragged ten miles behind a tank at this point. :-/ If my urine re-test comes back with enterococcus, I have to go to an infectious disease specialist. I wish I could sue that fucking hospital for everything they have put me and my family through.

And yes, if you get bored enough to google enterococcal infections, I am living proof that (1) it can happen to non-immunocompromised persons outside of an in-patient hospital experience, and (2) I am one tough cookie. I have felt like shit for months. No-one ever believes me when I say that I am in severe pain, terribly ill, having a blinding migraine, etc., yet I still go to work and do all the things that need to be done; well, it's true. I do. I have tested positive for hellacious strep (pre-tonsillectomy), running dangerous fevers, stayed at work because I was too dizzy to drive home...you name it. And now it looks like I've had some fucked-up infection for about four months. I am not trying to sound like Wonder Woman, I am just marvelling at how other girls start in with the 'boo-hoo, I stubbed my toe', and the whole world is supposed to grind to a halt, yet in relative terms, I'm hopping on one leg to the emergency room after cauterising my missing leg myself, and everyone ignores me, telling me I can't be that bad off since I apparently made it there on my own. This is just a strange world, that's all.

I am grateful for my gyn, though; she sent out my labs requesting screening for EVERYTHING, which is how we came to find out about the enterococcus. It's not something normally tested for in a routine UTI screening, cos it's just that improbable. Without her, god only knows how long I'd have walked around sick as fuck before I turned up with something awesome, like enterococcal pneumonia, endocarditis, meningitis, and so on. I guess I should be grateful; one of my friends caught MRSA caring for her dying father in hospital. She's only now getting rid of the terrible sores she'd had from it. Let's just hope my enterococcus isn't the vancomycin-resistant equivalent of MRSA. I should know by Thursday. And in case it ever comes up as a point in your world, if you have a UTI, a good protocol to follow is one round of septra, if it doesn't clear up then, NO MORE SEPTRA. Take cipro, and if it comes back after that, your dr needs to send your urine out for a *full* culture -- to a LAB. No in-office dipsticking. He/she may have to specify strains or something. Tell them you want everything, and everything reported, regardless of value/significance. That's what my gyn had to do after in-office cultures (basically WBC count) kept saying I have a raging infection, yet lab follow-ups kept saying no infection; the lab follow-ups weren't testing for any and every critter, just the common ones. Just so you know, so you can save yourself or a loved one some heartache some day. <3

And christ, do I miss my mom. Like every minute of every day. I'd give anything to have a do-over of 2010. Sigh. I h8 u, World.

Ok...g'night. I may hate the world, but if you are reading this, I love *you*. :-*

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O