Wednesday, April 29, 2009


I'm stealing my title from a poster on the Houston Chronicle website. They're calling the pandemic the "APORKALYPSE". Very funny, especially as I hear the ice cream truck outside ruining childrens' dinners.

Today I awoke to the news that a toddler had died in Texas. As the day progressed, I learned it was a toddler. Then, I recieved an irate phone call from someone.

"It was a Mexican baby! They brought a sick baby over the border and brought it to a hospital in Brownsville! Then Brownsville sent it here!" My immediate first thought, was KEEP THE FAMILY IN QUARANTINE. The last thing we need are family members spreading germs all over Houston.

Then I'd by lying if I didn't have a thought along the lines of damn them, why'd they have to bring their problem to Houston? If they had just stayed on their side of the border...

I brooded about them for a few minutes. Then my better judgement asserted itself. First, I thought, if all those party animals hadn't gone to Mexico for spring break then we wouldn't have had them coming home sick and spreading it to their schools and families.

Secondly, remember how I felt when Frosty was very ill? I would have done ANYTHING for that cat. I had no problem with the thought of completely maxing out the credit card if it meant I could take my baby home. And Frosty was a cat.

Now, imagine I am a Mexican Citizen. I'm afraid of the flu, I've fled my city - Mexico City. Somehow I'm in Brownsville now. My baby falls ill. What am I going to do? Take the baby to a hospital, of course.

I hope everyone there used proper precautions. I hope the family came into the US in a legal fashion, but who am I to throw stones? I've sinned just like everyone else. I'll only get sick if God wills it.

Any human being would have done whatever they could to get their sick toddler the help that could save their life. However, it was too late and from what I understand at this point the child had other medical issues, too.

Another thing that's been bothering me. People coughing in public. No one is covering their mouth. Houston is allergy city. Most of the coughing is due to allergies, I'm sure. I have an allergy cough because I sleep with Bubba-cat, to whom I'm allergic. [laugh]

So, today I reached a decision as I watched a small child coughing on the bus. I got out some hard (sugarfree) candies from my bag. I tapped the mother, and offered her the candies. Two pieces. Obviously, one for you, one for the child. She said thank you, unwrapped them, and they both sucked on the candy. No more coughing. I did the same thing earlier - handed a cough drop to another Metrolift client who was coughing violently. I'm sure she had asthma or something.

But how would I feel if I were elderly and disabled, and couldn't stop coughing, only to see Heather giving me the stink-eye? I'd give JESUS a cough drop, so I'd better do the same for her.

I've resolved, to give all coughers a cough drop. It says "I'm sorry you're not feeling well, hope you feel better soon." Most importantly, from a completely selfish standpoint... it STOPS THEM COUGHING.

Ha ha ha... Virtue is it's own reward.

Sunday, April 26, 2009


I need to keep this pretty short, I have to go to bed early tonight. I don't want to bump the Ron video, either. :)

The Health Department has declared a Public Health Emergency due to the "swine flu". Here's a link: I'm inclined to feel it was more of an engineered virus, but we'll see.

People in Houston are already freaking out. Some are making increasingly hostile comments regarding the country to our south. "Those people are making us sick!" being the usual.

Sadly in most cases of pandemics, people show their worst. They devolve into racism and bigotry, blaming one group for the ills of the whole. Even the poor pig is being blamed, leading to international boycotts, even though cooked pork is completely safe to eat. That's OK. It'll lower the prices for me.

Hey, stupid. The guy you're mad at (my husband would say God, I'd say the freak who engineered this bug) is probably not Mexican! So can it already.

I ride with many drivers, some of whom are Mexican Nationals. If you eliminated all the immigrant drivers, you'd only have about a dozen drivers left. I wouldn't bite the hand that drove me to Walmart.

If I can find them, tomorrow I do plan to pick up some masks and gloves. I'm not holding my breath, but if I can get them, great. I'll be happy to get some refills on my medications. I encouraged Ron to get a refill, too. I'd hate to see him in agony because he didn't.

I'll take my sanitizer, cook up the raw meat in the fridge, and get some canned soups in case the worst happens and I fall ill. We have a family cruise planned in a month - it'll be interesting to see how that works out! I don't plan to do the shore excursion now!

I'm saved. That means I don't have to worry about things. God's got it all under control. Whatever happens is His will and He will take care of us both.

I do find it interesting that the odds favor me getting sick for a change. I hope I don't, but it'll be nice not to worry about Ron.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

One nice thing about my medication - the ability to pick my battles.

We have a house next door. It's in a deed restricted subdivision. Most basic things are covered, no home based businesses, no junk in your yard, etc. Many homeowners who suffered property damage invested some of the money into landscaping, for instance.

Our little orange home sits amid it all. I like the fact that it's welcome.

When we moved in, we had problems. Particularly, the next door neighbor. They have a 2 car garage that's empty. They also have a large driveway that can park up to 6 cars, as I saw when they had a party one night.

So why did the take the one parking space in front of our home? The driveways are graded and the "new" Metrolift paratransit taxicabs (the drivers are 1099 contractors and are paid daily) scrape terribly, especially if they have a large wheelchair strapped down in the back. The modifications required to install the folding wheelchair ramps make them "low riders". I don't want a driver ripping out their drivetrain; and the drivers don't either.

Remember some of them own their own vehicles, they can't afford an expensive repair. So, they park in front of the house, in the street.

Or they would have if the woman next door didn't park her expensive sedan in front of our house every day. Maybe she thought ... who knows.

I kept asking her to move it. She would get an attitude. I finally gestured at my husband, staggering down the driveway and attempting to climb over the curb down the street to get into the cab. He almost fell, more than once.

"You should go help him" she says.
"If he falls because you wouldn't move your car, will you take him to the hospital? It's hard for him to walk, we need the space free!" She gave me a rude gesture and never parked in front of the house again.

Then, one day she came to me irate. "You have a problem" What's that?
Your cat is staring at me.
Yes, your cat is staring at me. I don't like animals and I don't like black cats! Make him stop, or I'll kill him.
Even though I was COMPLETELY unmedicated, God intervened and dropped some common sense on me. Trying to kick her butt or curse her would have no effect, and probably make her determined to murder Bubba. What to do? I knew she was a teacher.
You're a teacher. I'm sure your principal would love to know that you're threatening felony animal cruelty. It's a felony to kill someone's pet. The first thing I do after I file charges will be to fax the report over to your principal. I'm sure he'd love to know he had an animal abuser on staff.

A month later, they moved out and about a year later they began renting to various family members. The family member comes for about a year, always has a few young boys, and ALWAYS have to be told "Don't go in my yard without permission".

But they leave the parking space in front of the house.
They either like, or are indifferent, to my cat.
They're NORMAL. I don't worry if I turn my back on them.

Today, a small annoyance. They've left their empty trash cans in front of my house, again. It makes US look bad.

So what? Bubba is safe and Ron can get into Metrolift without falling.

I like that - I can pick my battles now.

This one's for Polly

Here's a link to the April Photo Album:

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Bad Cat

Well, we're slowly crawling into the new milennium.

Ron's running around showing off his MP3 player. I'm figuring out the video capabilities of my "new" digital camera (thanks Mom!).

Everyone else is probably laughing their butts off. [grin]

Today I woke up with a nasty headache. I ate some Tater Skins last night... bad me. I paid for it with a headache.

I did eat cleanly today - yay! However, due to the headache I did not take my morning meds.

I was pretty nauseous until about 11.

Why didn't I take my pills then? Well, Bad Cat came by.

Bad Cat bit me severely last week:

You get the idea. She broke the skin in several places, and it was completely unprovoked. To illustrate the insanity - the cat wanted to get in my lap after she bit me!

Anyway, I saw her this morning, she was yelling at the front door. I had a bad headache and our ride was here. I ATTEMPTED {laugh} to catch her and put her in the carrier.

God was merciful. I only have a few scratches, none bad. I didn't catch her.

Since she's still in the area, and still psycho, I felt fine about calling animal control and formally reporting the bite.

They came out and brought a trap. She's hungry, I'll catch her eventually. I did ask the guy how to release any innocent cats I might catch. He showed me.

Once I have her, swearing away, I'll call them and they'll take her away.

I love cats. I've loved cats my whole life, but this animal needs to be off the streets. I can only imagine if she'd gotten my hand, or a child.

I've got a date with some pumpkin pudding. Enjoy the video! I sure have some handsome boys, don't I?

Sunday, April 19, 2009

I've been writing this entry in my head all morning.

We went into work because we had pretty severe thunderstorms for a few days. It's been our experience, that when the weather's iffy, the vending machines can act up. Some of them suddenly refuse to accept money, others shut down with odd error messages, and others are happily empty because our people bought everything they contained.

Today, at work, it was a little of all of the above. However, first we had to get to work.

Yesterday, in my other blog, I engaged in some rather nasty gossip about a woman Ron knew. I realized I did so because I felt threatened. Today, on the way to work, we picked up another Metrolift using couple in our subdivision. They live in a nice big house and have a very new looking car.

She rarely uses the service - preferring to ride in the car. No harm in that. The slight tone of envy you detect is accurate. I admit that - I'm envious of people who have the means and ability to drive themselves around. I'd LOVE to do that, but my only consolation is the meager fact that I never had the ability to lose. I simply never had the ability. I don't actually KNOW what it's like.

One uncomfortable fact about Metrolift - most of the clients are overweight. The usual vehicle is a minivan - standard size, standard seating, for 5. Metrolift will stuff 4 overweight clients, a driver, and a "wheelchair" (in the back compartment) into said vehicle.

You never know who you'll ride with. Once I was crammed in next to an unclean guy with open sores on his arms. On two other occasions, Ron's ridden next to "slow" clients who were very touchy, feeling his arms and touching his face. One memorable "slow" woman actually grabbed at his crotch repeatedly, and we can't forget David, the steering wheel grabber. He likes to lunge at the steering wheel while the driver is in traffic.

But it's public transit. Since I usually ride the bus on my own, I'm used to it. You can have smelly guys, drunks, people with obvious mental illness, etc. It's just a fact of life. I have no choice in who's riding the bus. If they show up and they have the fare, they're riding.

Today, we picked up this couple in our subdivision. They were dressed for church. The other time, we just picked her up - taking her to dialysis. I know she is diabetic and in kidney failure. She weighed approximately 160 pounds, about 5 feet tall. She moved slowly but with better agility than Ron.

The driver, who is very tall, asked Ron to move behind him so "everyone would fit" - meaning the old lady would probably not fit behind his seat. Ron obliged.

The driver opened up the door and gestured at the seats. The lady began talking with animation. "I don't ride in the back!" What? "I don't ride in the back seat!" Why not? My husband does and he moves a lot worse than you! I might have offered to give up my front passenger seat - but she didn't need the seat. She just didn't want to ride in the back. She was perfectly capable of getting in.

The husband asked where he would sit, and the driver pointed to Ron. Next to him. The husband began objecting. I won't ride next to him! I don't want to be "pressed up" against him!

It's a good thing I didn't really grasp all this, or I would have gotten out and gotten into trouble. Oh, my husband isn't good enough to ride next to you? You're black! You, of all people, should understand how hateful you're being!

Ron is clean, well dressed, and well groomed. His hair is a bit flyaway, and he has a beard. What, was the guy afraid the beard was catching?

The driver had the unenviable task of calling dispatch and saying "The client refuses to ride in the back seat, and the husband won't sit next to my other client." It must be nice to be able to be so picky about your seatmates. I've never been able to say "No thanks."

The dispatcher had to say "They'll have a long wait, and I doubt someone else can make it before their appointment time." They didn't care. The thought of riding in the backseat, next to my (slim! Clean!) husband, was so repugnant they decided they'd rather miss church.

I engaged in some nasty gossip on the way to work, with the driver. I shouldn't have done it but I realize now I felt very insulted. We weren't good enough to ride with them? Also, I was bitter. It must be nice to be so picky. It must be real nice to go where you want to go, when you want to go, whenever you feel like it. It must be lovely not to have to walk a mile roundtrip in the rain because you wanted to get a potroast.

So we got to work and I helped Ron out with the stocking. Ron made a joke I didn't get and I told him so. He repeated it. Still don't get it. Then he got very derogatory and insulting towards me. I took offense, and he did. It ended up with him storming off screaming at me "Shut up, Bitch!" because I told him "That's not kind. If I did that when you asked me for help with reading something how would you feel?"

Even though I know the head injury is a factor in his temper/moods it doesn't help much. I sometimes think if he woke up completely ablebodied I'd leave him. I find it incredibly painful when he says "Well, a normal person would have..." and I tell him "But I'm NOT normal!"

I always end the discussion feeling like he's saying "It's not your fault, but it is. If you could be messed up all the time I could remember you have brain damage. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at God - or so I say, so I'm going to continue to castigate you because He allowed you to have brain damage."

AGH. That's the kind of thing that makes me realize there is no medication in the world for the way I feel. Nothing. However, I have completely normal feelings, within normal parameters, because I do take my medication. I'm covered in bruises most of the time because my coordination is pretty impaired, and I tend to run into things, or run things into me.

He says it's difficult to love me, as he sits there in his clean clothes I laundered, eating the food I prepared, washing his hands in the sink I cleaned with the soap I bought, going to work because I help him, listening to the MP3 player I got for him, with the tunes I downloaded, complaining to God that he sent a lousy helper. I help him with everything. Horrifying things have happened, and all I did was assist him with a kind attitude.

I NEVER MAKE HIM FEEL LESS THAN BECAUSE HE IS DISABLED. NEVER. He says "You're different, Heather, I can't do that." He HAS to castigate me, and make me feel like crap, because I rarely ask him for clarification on something or say "I don't get it."


Tuesday, April 14, 2009


Well, I'm pretty freaked out about Ron's impending surgery but I'm taking care of myself. I went to the thrift store today, one of my favorite things. I have my tunes, and LOTS of batteries. I listened to them all day. The tunes, not the batteries.

I even found a cute black formal the day Mom suggested I get a formal dress. Yes! It fits perfectly. I have 2 of those magical underthings that flattens out all the bread dough, making me look 15 pounds slimmer. Combine the two and WOW. Ron would not be ashamed to be seen with me. Of course, I'll keep looking. For $4.50 I can afford to change my mind.

Even my wedding gown cost me $5.30. The zipper broke, not due to my weight, the day of my wedding. Poor Ron thought I changed my mind about marrying him! Dad had to reassure him.

I got some new tunes. What are my current favorites?
Cry no more - Holy Culture

Kill Me, Heal Me (thanks Marianne!) by Skillet

Wake the Dead - Family Force 5

My Perogative - Britney Spears (not expected, huh?)

Fanatics Raeggaton - 116 Clique (song starts at about minute 3)

That's it for now. I'm off to make some pumpkin pudding with whipped cream. Yum.

Monday, April 13, 2009

I'll be happy to answer any questions...

I'm listening to a new tune tonight. "Cry No More" by The Cross Movement. If Ron liked Gospel Rap, he'd love it.

I managed to restrain myself. Someone was talking about hating the taste of reheated food. Me, I'm just happy I have food to reheat! I wanted to make a really bitchy comment about "It must be nice to have enough money to sustain such a refined palate" but I didn't. I just said, I don't notice a taste and many times I had to eat food I didn't like, or go hungry. I hate chicken, for instance. When Ron and I first got married, we lived off of those 10 pound bags of chicken leg quarters, one a week, plus a bag of (ha ha) potatoes, also one a week. I left it at that.

It's true, though. So many people go hungry I try not to waste food. I'm nuking some formerly frozen pot roast and collard greens right now. The juice and the greens will add a lot to each other. Ah, beep beep.

Another issue that kind of bothers me. Oh, I'm losing weight. People are gossiping about me. I'm going to feed the gossip when they ask how I'm losing weight.

I don't think that's very kind. What if someone really wants to know how you do it? I mean, if you want to do that, fine. I can't tell you what to do.

But how did I learn about Atkins? A nice lady at work told me about it. I filed it away and when I was ready to lose, I did.

Oh, my. That's some GOOD pot roast! Oh, yum. I gotta make another one this weekend. Foodtown has some nice pot roasts.

Anyway, who am I to deny people the information that helped me?

A good example. If you read my other blog I'm repeating myself:
Today I went to Walmart. Ron wanted a meatloaf TV dinner. I'm wearing my size 12's and my medium tshirt. I heard one woman tell another "Don't worry about the carbs, it's the calories that matter." I started laughing - obnoxiously loud laughter. I laughed so hard I hit my head on the handle to the shopping cart.

They look at me, puzzled and alarmed. "I'm sorry, but I overheard you. Um. That's not true." What? I told them about my low carb success story. The first woman asked if I had ever tried low calorie dieting. I said, yes, it made me a very irritable bitch (pardon), and low-fat dieting caused me to gain 10 pounds a year, even with killer workouts. Their eyes got wide as I spoke with fervent passion about my misery on the low-calorie/low-fat/kill yourself working out diet lie. Then, I started low carb.. my voice warmed as I spoke with kindness about my Dear Doctor Atkins. How I lost 19 pounds, taking 3 medications that cause weight gain - one woman misunderstood me that I was taking some kind of diet pill, which I corrected. Taking 3 pills that cause weight gain, eating BACON! I waved at my portion of the shopping cart, loaded with broccoli, caulilflower, green beans, hard cheese, bacon, butter, and red meat. Delicious.

"So you're taking diet pills" pointed at my hand. "What's that? Is that low-carb?" I grinned at Ron's Banquet Meatloaf, corn, and mashed potato dinner. "Hell no, excuse me. It's for my husband. You couldn't pay me to eat this!"

They were "with" me, until the inevitable sugar question was asked. No, I don't eat sugar. No, I don't eat that. Or that. When I want a dessert I have some heavy whipping cream and fresh fruit. It's very good....but I'd lost them.

Well, I had told them that everyone who's trying to lose weight probably has that one trigger food they can't bear to give up. That food, I told them, is what makes you fat.

Are they going to low-carb? Probably not. Are they going to remember me? Damned right. Do they know how to lose weight safely? Yes.

So I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have about my way of eating. After all, someone did it for me.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Tornado Dreams

Do you ever have a recurring dream "Theme"? I have the airport dreams, the bird dreams, and the tornado dreams, just to name a few.

In the tornado dreams, I'm generally outside somewhere and a cataclysmic tornado is approaching. My reaction varies with every dream. Sometimes it qualifies as "nightmare" as I become utterly hysterical as the storm approaches and passes.

Other times, I greet the impending disaster with more aplomb, yelling at others to protect themselves and martialing everyone into ditches for protection. Hiding in a ditch, or culvert, is the best approach if you are outside and a tornado is approaching.

I finally looked up the dream interpretation of "tornado" dreams.

Tornado is a violent storm in nature, and it may represent violent emotional storms in your dreams. If you have reoccurring
tornado dreams consider the emotional changes in your life and also the amount of anger and rage that you may be currently experiencing. Tornadoes could also represent disruptions and upsets in you immediate environment and specific or current issues that may be overwhelming.
Well, I certainly have had a few "violent emotional storms" [giggle] in my day. I tend to take the "disruptions and upsets in your immediate enviroment...issues that may be overwhelming" issue.
After all, my husband is having surgery in just a few days. There's no such thing as minor surgery; risks are present. He could have a stroke, he could have a heart attack, God forbid, another allergic reaction to an antibiotic... etc. A lot of risks. Nothing I can to do prevent it, either. Well, I can pray. [shrug] I'm all for prayer, I'll take all the prayer we can get... but I'm basically helpless here.
No wonder I had another tornado dream last night. This time, I was actually indoors, sitting at a long wooden table, surrounded by others. I talked about disaster preparedness, and as the storm approached I got under the table. The others laughed at me for doing so, but I told them "I've been through a lot of these and I know what to do. You can do as you please, but I'm getting under the table."
The storm passed as I huddled, under the table, accompanied by a large dog. I heard screams from the others. As I emerged, the table had fewer people. They all told me they wished they'd gotten under the table and I preened a bit. I resumed my "disaster preparedness" talk, and I then spent some time with the dog. [shrug] Ron says I have amazingly detailed dreams... that his are very different.
Anyway, this dream was far better than my usual tornado dream. Most of them are horrible nightmares, even though I'm never harmed by the storm. Sometimes I'm trying to reach Ron, (we've been separated in the dream), or a family member. Sometimes I'm trying to save a child.
I've had a lot of bad things in my life. More than some, less than others. Most every "bad thing" has been completely unexpected and unpreventable. It just launches itself at us, and we deal with it as best we can. I'm reminded of the "Face Hugger" aliens (from the Alien franchise), how they launch themselves out of their pods at the victims. It's a similar feeling for me. By the time I've registered the horror of the oncoming nightmare, it's wrapped itself around my face and is trying to jam it's tube down my throat. Poor you! I couldn't find any good Youtube. [laugh]
Anyway, a small break for a [wink] unspecified reason, and I'm back. Life really is like the weather, you have no idea what's headed your way.
I'll just ride out this week, this year, this life, the best that I can.

Friday, April 10, 2009

When in doubt...

Occasionally I'll wonder if I'm manic or depressed. Am I? Maybe I need to take another lithium.

Whenever that happens, I have a rule. Do it. If I think I need another lithium, then I do. Don't wait, do it now.

So, I'm eating applesauce and cheese, and taking a quick-release lithium. I don't want to be a bitch if I can prevent it, and boy I feel like one today!

Monday, April 6, 2009

Mine is better...

We're all guilty of comparing ourselves to others. I know I do it.

I often post on message boards, in threads with a "support" theme. Two "threads" I read recently touched on some sensitivity for me.

The first topic was antidepressants - always a hot topic. Does anyone need them? Who needs them? How long should you take them? Is it possible to avoid the use of an anti-d by controlling your diet and taking supplements?

I tend to detect a slight tinge of "I guess I'm better than you, because my depression was JUST TERRIBLE and I was able to control it by adding broccoli to my diet." Or they talk about bad side effects or the horrors of withdrawal, with a strong attitude (to me, again) of "If you really had it together you woudln't need this pharmaceutical crutch".

I thank God that my illness is so severe. I know, that, unmedicated, I will have a full blown psychotic break. I will hallucinate. I will have delusions and paranoia. I recall one obsession with building a fallout shelter in my home. I was obsessed with the impending terrorist attack, and had a very difficult time restraining myself from literally building a wall of stockpiled food and water to create a "safe room". Just one example.

Another, my desperate husband on his cell phone, talking to a social worker from Adult Protective Services. "Get me a nursing home. All I need is a bed and a toilet" - I was so violatile he was desperate to escape. I don't blame him, I'd have fled too.

Or the time I locked up all the knives and medications, I was that obsessed with harming myself. I wouldn't even walk on the overpass because I was obsessed with jumping.

For me, I have no choice. I must take medication - antipsychotics, antidepressants, and mood stabilizers. I feel I am probably somewhat unusual in talking so freely about my illness, even though I have IDIOTS who tell me I need to fast and pray, go off the medication, and my faith is lacking, that's why God won't heal me.

God needs me LIKE THIS. I accept that, I don't see why others have such a hard time with it. It's my life, I'll manage it the way I see fit. Faith in God, and medication, works quite well for me. Why mess with a winning team?

Now that my Risperdal's gone generic I save even more money, it's only $20 a month as opposed to $140. Lithium's always cheap, because it's a naturally occuring mineral. Lexapro? Not bad, about $20 a month also. Like I said, a winning team.

I'm very open about my illness and try to destigmatize it as much as possible. I really believe that diabetes and depression should be treated the same, but it's not. People with admitted mental illness are viewed as unstable and dangerous. People with mental illness, who are unmedicated, ARE. However, it's a huge difference between an unmedicated person with bipolar disorder, wreaking havoc everywhere they go, and a properly medicated, responsible individual.

My family saw me at my worst, growing up... well, nearly my worst. Ron saw me at my worst and still says he loves me - amazing. Anyway, we have a reunion cruise coming up in a few months. What a pleasant surprise I'll be to them. A whole different person.

I know Mom and Dad look forward to my calls (I am told this often) rather than dread them. They never said that, but I imagine they did. I was pretty awful to Mom in particular.

Onto my second subject, the infamous cheat day. Some low carbers advocate a cheat day, and act like "I don't have a problem eating off plan, YOU have a willpower problem if you can't get back on plan". I've decided that if I'm an addict, and I'm a sugar and carb addict, then I need to treat the illness as such and abstain from eating bad foods.

Rarely, I slip, and I immediately resume my normal habits, but I'd rather not slip at all. One item I will never touch is SUGAR. I'd rather get a migraine from eating sugar alcohols, or not eat sweets at all, than eat sugar. It's a very dangerous substance.

A study was done years ago that conclusively proved that sugar is more addictive than heroin. Imagine that!

I admire people who can beat depression without medication. I feel sorry for them, I feel they are making things harder than they need to be, but that's my opinion. They've got theirs, I've got mine.

I am a wonderful person who needs medication to run properly. That's fine! I need it. I need it just like a heart patient needs their medication, and it would be just as stupid for me to try to "prove" something by going unmedicated. I accept it, and I do my best not to resent people who tell me I am weak for taking my medication.

I am a person who knows her own body, per my doctor, thank you. I know that I have addiction issues with carbohydrates and I need to avoid certain forms of carbohydrate in order to run properly. Sugar, for instance, is mood poison. It makes everything worse.

If someone else can eat sugar and bad things occasionally with no repercussions, that's fine. Good for them. But don't tell me I am weak because I'd get readdicted. This is my body, and my way of eating. I'll manage my own body the way I see fit.

I've done a good job so far.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Today I had a migraine.

Today I had a migraine. Ugh.

Not the ideal way to spend my day off, but the only money I spent was just now when a little kid knocked on the door. I always hated selling candy when I was a kid, so I try to buy it.

Ron ought to enjoy his chocolate covered cashews.

I was pretty proud of myself. I was watching a Christmas episode of King of the Hill, and the song "Frosty the Snowman" played in the background. Maybe it was the overwhelming physical pain, but I was able to handle it well.

A trip to the hematologist

I slept OK but woke up really tired.  I hit the snooze alarm a few times, much to Biscuit's disgust.  But I'm getting ahead of mys...