Wednesday, May 30, 2012

No wonder I'm bitter!

I doubt I will tell Ron, why I got angry tonight.

He likes to watch TV, find "the new viral video that everyone is watching" and then have me play it for him.  Usually I don't mind, although I tend to disdain "viral" anything.

He told me, he just HAD to see a new video, a very romantic wedding proposal.  I was very resistant, for reasons I'll explain later.  I went to Youtube and looked.  It wasn't under "popular" videos.  Sometimes they are under "trending" videos.  I looked again, nothing.

So, it can't be that popular.  I told him that.

I was very annoyed at the whole "romantic wedding proposal" concept, and it took me a few minutes to figure out why.  I had already told Ron, no I didn't want to look it up.  No, it isn't here.  No, it isn't here either.

No, I don't want to type it into the search bar.  I TRIED to tell him, if I entered "wedding proposal" into the search bar on Youtube, I'd get a million links and I didn't want to hunt it down that far.

All he heard was "Heather is in a bad mood, I'm going to have a tantrum and leave".  He did that, declaring he needed a drink after my "poor" treatment of him.  [rolleyes]   I never got to explain, he was just shouting at me, then making really rude comments about me  "To the cat".

I said, why don't you go in the other room?  If you don't, I will.  He said fine and stormed off.

[snort]  All this over romance.

Why am I so bitter about a romantic wedding proposal?  Doesn't every woman want one?

Yes, I did.

What did I get?   Ron saying he'd marry me, but he never proposed for years.  Then he did, and cheated on me multiple times, never setting a wedding date and refusing to call me anything other than his "girlfriend".  Getting angry and threatening to throw me out if I pushed "The wedding issue".  Saying if he had to choose between me and "his freedom" I would lose.

Me, selling out for over 10 years.  Broken, shattered dreams.  I'll remind you of the cheating, verbal abuse, and occasional over the top alcoholic blackout.

So, Ron gets hit by a truck.  I don't get to make any decisions because [scream] we aren't married!  I had to beg for permission to take him home, get him lifesaving operations, etc.  Beg.  Like an animal.  For something that should have been my right anyway.

Now, in addition to being blind, he is partially paralyzed and in a wheelchair.  All his friends are telling him "You are an idiot of you don't marry her."  But he likes his FREE-DOM.

I had to tell him, I would leave him (like that!) if he didn't marry me, because "I am not going through that again!"

Then he said, "I guess we'll get married".

Kind of like that awful Carly Simon song.  "We'll maaa-rreee"

No wonder I'm bitter about proposals!

Sometimes I forget

Today I had to get up at 3 AM (I went to bed already and woke up due to a nightmare).  We went to work to get the Dr Pepper delivery.

I think I've talked about it, basically, as a vendor, you are in a clan.  It's either Coke, Dr Pepper, or Pepsi.  We're in the Dr Pepper clan.  They provide the canned soda vendors and service technicians (although I am vain enough to say I can do a lot of fixes on my own), we stock it with a minimum 75% Dr Pepper product (that equates to two "competitors" and 6 Dr Pepper items in each machine).  They have a wide selection, so it's easy to fill it up.

Anyway, another feature is the delivery.  They tell you "We are coming at 4 AM on the last Tuesday of the month", and you'd better be there if you want the machines, and soda.  Last month Ron forgot it was delivery day and the other vendor received it for him.

They, very politely, requested we get THEIR order this month.  We couldn't say no, could we?  And, we'd be there anyway.

So, I went to bed, had a hard time falling asleep, got about 6 hours sleep, and went to work.  I didn't even do my God Time.  I barely had time for a shower.

We got there and I checked the machines.  They all looked OK (I do need more snacks).  I couldn't even stock.  I think I stocked 1 case of soda, and fixed an improperly stocked soda column (the infamous "wrong soda came out").

As part of my day, Ron paid me.  I was happy to get it.  He also asked me to sell some change to the credit union.

When we are handling change, we like to use small buckets, about 2-4 quart size.  They hold a lot of change, are sturdy, and are easy to move.  Ron had placed some rolled quarters (40 quarters to a coin roll, if you wondered) in a bucket.  It was a mostly clear bucket, with a label for loose bubble gum (we used it to stock the gum ball machine, when empty it was converted to coin bucket).

Sometimes I lack good judgement.  I didn't think anything of taking my bucket into the credit union.  The credit union serves anyone, in one of the worst parts of town.

I didn't have a problem taking in the bucket.  When I got the money (a few $20 bills, I put them into the bucket) and did another transaction.  A woman, clearly from the bad part of town, came in.  She was making a loan payment, I think.  I didn't eavesdrop.

The minute I put the $20 bills in the bucket, she turned her body completely, looking at the bucket with the money.  She wouldn't take her eyes off it, even when the teller spoke to her.  STARING at the money.

Ooops.  Bad judgement on my part.  I forget I live on Earth and some people worship those little green pieces of paper.

It's a good thing I had witnesses, I could have seen her making a grab for the bucket or mugging me outside.  I was very glad she left well before I did, that, when I did leave, I had a security badge to get into the building, and she did not.

She was, literally, enthralled by the sight of a few $20 bills.  I thought it was no big deal.  I see people flashing stacks of $100 bills in there, all the time.  They'll stand there and count off a thousand dollars or so, pluck a few bills out, put them in one pocket, and put the rest in another pocket.

Now, I know, hide the money, even if it's a dollar.  People are crazy.

Praise God all she did was stare.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Can of worms?

Readers will know I experienced a lot of abuse growing up.   Many years ago, I did a checklist with a therapist and ended up saying "yes" to everything on the list (except sexual abuse).  It was a complete eye-opener.

So, I was abused.  Then I had to deal with that.  I was abused.  How do I get over, having being abused?

In my case, I wrote a book.  Mostly poetry, with some autobiography, where I dragged out all the pain, raw and screaming, and put it down on the page.  It wasn't all pain, though.

I told Ron, this morning "It's bipolar".  It has a lot of happy stuff too.

Why am I talking about a book I wrote 12 years ago?  It just went live on Amazon.  I am completely wired.

On the one hand, I'd love to put something up on my Facebook (and my Facebook name is not the same as the name I used for the book, as I've married and use his name now); HOWEVER, the parties in question are now "Facebook" friends and that could get very messy, very fast.  I elected to post a link in a few "Secret" groups.

It was ironic, actually.  I was so angry about having been abused.  Finally accepted it.  Moved on.  Asked God to help me forgive them.  Did forgive them, sent them an email... and then they started apologizing.

I had a hard time getting them to stop, actually, and "we're all good now".  I really just feel sorry for them, but posting this on FB would just bring up "Bad Times", and they're old to boot.

I had gotten an email from my publisher, saying it had been converted to Ebook, and I should google myself.  I did and the Amazon link popped.  Imagine my shock when I saw they had it in paperback, and Kindle.

Of course I had to buy the Kindle version; in addition to being "mine" it's only $4.  I just checked out my Kindle version.  It's has some funky page alignments, but the linked table of contents and all look great.

If you're interested, here's the link:

Sunday, May 27, 2012

The safest place I can be

If I hadn't seen the broken windows, I'd have been furious.

I have siding on my home.  Many Houston homes have brick.  Brick is more durable, but it crumbles in seismic events.  No thanks.  Growing up in 'quake country, I heard many stories of collapsed, brick, homes.

Here's an image:  Brick home after a quake

My home was partially remodeled before I bought it.  It had a "bad" composite siding on the north and west side of the home, and "good" hardi-plank siding on the other two sides of the home.  Unfortunately, the north side of my home is owned by the 5-child soccer playing family.  The father also installed a sprinkler system and ran it morning and night (I'd hear it).

Last year, when I made an inspection (that is also my zero-property line side), the siding looked fine.  It had some wear at the base, and a piece about 4x6 inches had literally been kicked off the side of the house (the "goal" is placed at the wall of my home).  I was a little peeved but figured it could "hold" for a few more years.

Not after the sprinkler.  It's so rotted now, I can see the insulation, and the wood frame.   Pete said the sprinkler would have weakened the siding, and the children kicking would have ended it.  Now we have to replace an 8 x 8 foot section of siding.  I would have been really pissed.  Thank you for damaging my house!

However, upon entering the yard (I am entitled to view my own property), Pete (our friend who is helping us with various home repairs) remarked on their broken windows.  They have two huge bay windows.  Each window sports at least one broken window pane from flying soccer balls.

"Those windows cost at least $1,000 each" he exclaimed.  I took a hard look at the plastic garbage bag, taped over the broken out panel.  Concluded the broken windows have most likely led to the end of the backyard soccer games (the yard is only a few thousand square feet, it's really too small for an active family), and decided to "suck it up".

My siding can be replaced, and cheaply (About $100 or so).  Pete will help (Ron and I will buy the siding and Pete and I will put it up).

It's a lot easier to replace siding, than a window.

I also sleep well at night, knowing I'm in a safe house, not a brick monster.

We've had 4 quakes in East Texas, in the last month.  That's very unusual.  I haven't felt them, but, God forbid, we do get a quake I'm in the safest place I can be.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Heart Murmurs

"You have a heart murmur" I've heard, more than once, on exam.  Every time I weighed more than 170 pounds, and when I got my weight down doctors stopped remarking on it.   Maybe they didn't feel led to comment, or maybe it wasn't there.

One doctor stated "If you were able to train for, and run a half marathon you don't need to worry about your heart".  I tend to agree.  I have had no other symptoms of heart disease (which did kill my birth mother).

I wasn't happy to hear my vet say  "He has a heart murmur'>  He didn't have one last year.  However, in cat years, he's at retirement age.

She also remarked, at 14 pounds, he's too heavy, and she'd like him to lose 3 pounds.  I finally got Ron to agree to a diet change.  Ron will feed the cat no more than 6 cat treats, plus cooked meat, a day.  I will get rid of the junk food and buy a quality, grain-free low carb product (suggestions welcome).

Then I thought, I love my cat.  I would do anything to help him get healthier.

Can't I love myself that much?  Doesn't my cat deserve a doting mother?  If something happened to me, Ron might not be able to keep Bubba.

So, we'll be going on a diet, together.

Bubba's Fan Club

Today, we took Bubba cat to the vet.  He needed to update his vaccines.

As you can see from the photos in the sidebar, Bubba is an elegant, shorthaired, black cat.  He's very dignified.  He loves to hunt, hence the nickname "Bubba".

Boy, can he hunt.  He brought me a sparrow yesterday.  Well, part of one.  Ew.

So, Ron and I blocked out today for our visit.  We got some lunch, came home, and waited.  When it got within a few moments of pickup, I stuffed Bubba into his box.

I've had a lot of cats that tried to hurt me, when I'd medicate them or put them in the carrier.  Bubba doesn't.  He'll struggle, resist, but he has never raised a claw to me.  Just one of the many reasons he's my favorite cat, ever.

Metrolift came and all 3 of us went out to the cab.  The driver wasn't a fan of cats, but he didn't hate them, either.  Bubba howled with great tragedy.  I was glad it was a straight trip.

Ron's very protective, and was pretty distraught.  I just spoke calmly to Bubba and balanced him in my lap.

We got to the vet and went inside.  A large dog on a leash, tried to sniff Bubba.  That's about when he decided to shut up.  Poor cat.

I set him up, facing Ron, on a bench.  Ron leaned over the carrier and cooed at Bubba until they took us into the exam room.

Ron wanted to let him out, but I said no.  We did that once and the cat hid behind the computer monitor, in the corner (another cat).  The vet was very nice about getting him out but reminded us the policy states "Keep pet in carrier".

We sat there, and Ron talked to the cat as I read various articles on cat-care, new breeds, and care suggestions.  Pretty soon the vet came in.

Ron played his audio track of Bubba purring and they loved it (the vet had an assistant).  They took Bubba out and began the exam.  She said, overall, he looked great.

He's fat, she'd like him to lose 3 pounds, and he has a heart murmur, but everything else was fine.  I really enjoyed watching the exam.

They never stopped petting him.  At least one person was petting him at all times as he submitted to the exam with resignation.  He got his shots, a dose of Advantage (ultra, I think, the stuff that kills all parasites, including intestinal), and more petting.  He was very happy to get back into his carrier.

His adoring fan club kept exclaiming over him.  He is a handsome fellow and very good natured.

I'm glad they like him so much, and even happier he forgave me when we got home.

He took a nice long nap with me, right next to my head.

Video Blog

Ron looks at the new bathroom.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Hell of a summer

I knew it would be a hot summer.  

Ron has a phone number.  Due to the wonder of caller ID recognition, it will give him weather reports on various towns.  We were horrified, when he called recently, to find our old town in CA STILL had lows in the 40's, every night.  I can't imagine anything more awful.  

That said, today, I was walking around in the very hot sun, with a heat index well into the upper 90's, remembering all the dire warnings on my Haldol "DO NOT BECOME OVERHEATED".   Bad Heather.  

However, I refuse to stay at home like an inmate on house arrest.  Yes, Ron could have helped me with transportation but I am independent.  I want to do what I can for myself, and ask him for help when I really do need it.  

I'm sure at least one reader will shriek in dismay as I say "I made sure to drink plenty of cold, diet, soda, though."  They'll tell me, soda isn't water, is dehydrating, etc.  But it was cold!  [grin]  

I seem to be losing my taste for them.  Just now, I got up and decided to drink a power-ade zero.  They have good minerals and God knows I was sweating.  

Anyway, we had today off.  We got up moderately early and went to the taqueria for breakfast.  The owner encouraged Ron to try the Chilaquiles Nortenos (he got it with red sauce).  He loved them.  It's a dried, rehydrated, shredded beef, with onions, peppers, eggs, cheese, and sauce. 

Ron has terrible table manners.  Not an issue for me.  I'm just glad he can feed himself.  However, when we eat out I always have him face a wall so people won't stare.  He started out, eating little bites off his fork, and devolved into eating with his left hand, scooping up food and stuffing it in his mouth, groaning with joy.  

You can see why we might not "fit" with fine dining.  However, there was a little kid screaming and throwing things not far away, so we fit right in.  I had a quesadilla with bacon.  It was delicious, and very filling.  Happily I have the other half for dinner tonight.  

We went home and then went to a Starbucks.  We had coffee, and a nice time talking.  Ron went from the Starbucks onto the liquor store, and I went, on foot, to my errands.  I got a lot done, buying myself a new backpack.  I love the mesh backpacks, they last a long time.  

My "usual" track record for a backpack was a few months, tops.  Then a strap would pop off and I had to throw it out.  I've had my mesh backpack for 2 years.  

I was delighted to see Academy had several styles.  I liked the black with yellow zipper, so I got that.  It'll be a nice change from my old blue and gray.  It still "sort of" works, but one zipper pull broke off (my fault, it got caught on something, as I was wearing it, and I yanked the backpack forward, breaking the zipper pull, rather than taking it off and investigating).  It'll be nice to have fully working zippers.  

I'm also going to weed out my contents.  I can tell I'm a little manic, I have lots of initiative.  I figure, I don't need every OTC remedy known to man in my backpack.  Sure, take my medication, some headache remedy, but that's all I need.  I don't need everything.  That, of course, is the medication talking.  

So, I had fun.  Ron saved me hours of riding on the bus.  I'm sure he would have been happy to get me home, too, but I am independent.  I correctly figured I wouldn't "find" trouble early in the afternoon, on a really hot day.  I had an uneventful ride home.  

I noticed, on my walk through the subdivision, that a public area is very swampy.  We must have a broken or leaking pipe.  I called the water district and reported it. She was quite happy to hear about the problem, and said they'd send someone out today.  

I imagine we'll see a huge mess, tomorrow.  They'll need to dig up, and replace, the pipe.  But it will save  lot of money in the long run.  

I guess people who drive by don't notice.  Pedestrians just avoid the swampy area.  I can't stand the thought of wasting water, in a drought.  

It's going to be a hell of a summer.  

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Poor pharmacist

Note: I always carry a couple weeks' worth of medication, in my backpack, when I leave the house.

I take 3 medications.  One helps with psychotic stuff (seeing and hearing things that ain't there, people "out to get me, etc.).  I got that today.  Yay.  $10 for 3 months and my favorite drug maker (Mylan).  I got my antidepressant, $45, keeps me from killing myself, also made by Mylan.  I love Mylan.

Then I went to get my lithium, which basically keeps me from going "Buggo" and committing felonies.  It was not the $10 it's always been, but $65.  Doc wrote it for the wrong formulation.  I said "I'm not paying for that, I want my $10 lithium".

The poor pharmacist was so freaked out.  She thought I was going off my meds.  I had to show her, I had some extra "good" lithium, in my backpack before she'd calm down.  I guess she thought she'd see me on the news tomorrow if she "let" me leave without my lithium.  Poor pharmacist!  What an AWFUL job!

I will NEVER stop taking my lithium.

Saturday, May 19, 2012


Well, I got my insurance quote.  $3K deductible for wind and hail.  Ouch.

I called my Dad's insurance, through the military.  Ouch.

Looks like I'll be sticking with the current provider.

Broken has it's own blog.

OK, I did it.

I decided, with no feedback, to go ahead and start my ongoing story (fictional one that is) as a blog.  Here is a link:

I thought it would be a lot less confusing if I kept them separate.  I've had these characters in my head for a very long time.

I'm calling it "Broken, a Love Story" because the heroine sees herself as "broken" and unlovable due to her  disabilities.

Friday, May 18, 2012

Chapter 1

I've been playing with a story idea for a long while.

Ron has often said, when reading romance novels, he wishes he were the big, strong, high-earning hero.  I told him once no one would ever create a FAS, bipolar, heroine and he said "Why not?"  I also wanted to show the damage cults, and bad doctrine, do in relationships.

So, I decided to play with it today.  Here's chapter one.  If it's liked, I'll keep the story line ongoing and create a separate blog for it.

Paul smiled as he pulled up in front of his home.  The neatly manicured yard set off the brick nicely, he’d thought.  
His wife hadn’t liked it much, wanted something “more personal”, but he overruled her the way he always did.  After all, he was the husband.  Brother John was clear on his role in the marriage.  
He unlocked the door and entered the living room.  Everything was neat and tidy, the plush oriental carpet setting off the burgundy leather sofa, the photos neatly displayed on the walnut end table...
Wait a minute.  He walked over to the end table and picked up a photo in a cheap plastic frame.  He smiled fondly.  A wedding photo, from Vegas.  
His wife grinned widely, her rented purple wedding gown showcasing her curves, brown hair, and deep green eyes.  Paul grinned at her side, wearing a purple carnation in his rented tux, his thick blonde hair lightly spiked.  
Kids, he thought, as he set it down.  We were kids.  Where was the real wedding photo?    His parents had demanded they take formal wedding photos when they returned home and announced their marriage.  Brother John had liked the “proper” photo.  
He noticed a piece of paper, folded under the photo, along with a set of keys.  He felt alarm rise as he unfolded it.  
Charlie, it began.  She’d called him Charlie ever since they met in daycare.  I miss you.  I’ve loved you my whole life, but you’re not the man I knew.  What?  Of course he’d changed, for the better.  How many times have you thought about Brother John since you came home today?  I bet at least once.  
I wanted to be a good wife for you, I really did.  I went along with the rules.  You made all the decisions.  I didn’t like it, and I felt like you never really listened to me anymore.   You moved me off the bus line so I couldn’t go anywhere on my own.  He’d done that for her safety, Paul thought.  Only criminals and scum rode the bus.  You made me quit my job because I couldn’t get to work anymore.  You kept me at home like a bird in a cage and made me beg for rides.  Had he?  And then you worked so many hours I hated to ask to go anywhere when you did get home.  He refused to feel bad.  He was a good provider.  
I know you don’t really understand that I’m different.  I have brain damage, Charlie, from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  I can’t drive, but I can do so many other things.  I may not always know the social rules but I think I’m a loving, good person.  I love God, and God knows I loved you.  
Loved?  Paul sank to the couch, his throat clenching.  I had to give my cat to my parents because you were worried he’d claw the couch.  I never wanted a leather couch.  I wanted something cat-friendly, one that was OK for the cat.  The man I loved wouldn’t have cared about a few claw marks.  Remember that awful plaid couch in our first apartment?  WhenTiger clawed it up, you said it was an improvement.  He grinned.  He had.  Oh, what an awful couch it had been.  
You’d get so frustrated when I couldn’t do “normal” things, and I got tired of explaining.  I am different Charlie.  I thought you knew that.  I do my best, but I can only do so much.   He sighed.  It was an old argument.  
I have bipolar disorder, too.  Your father once told me about a “bad acid trip” he’d had in the hippie days and it sounded an awful lot like my life before medication.  I need that medication to stay alive, Charlie.  Paul’s gut tightened.  He knew what was coming.  
I guess Brother John told you to throw it out.  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?  Did you think I didn’t see this coming?  He kept saying I was addicted.  I have awful side effects, Charlie.  No one would willingly take this stuff, but you don’t care about that.  It’s about you, on a leash, doing whatever John tells you to do.  
He’s not your brother, and he’s not mine.  I’m leaving you because I know you won’t leave him, and I can’t stay with a husband who throws out my medication.  Don’t worry.  I called a cab, and put it on your credit card.  That’s the last you’ll ever spend on me.  
I’ll give you a divorce if you want it.  Otherwise I will proceed as Corinthians directs, and I will pray for you daily.  
The letter drifted, unnoticed, out of Paul’s hands as he put his head in his hands and cried.  

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Things I like about myself

I have several, secular, "Daily Reader" books.  One, a gift from my sister, covers the struggles faced by people with mental illness.  Another, a gift to myself, is from Al-anon and covers the steps I need to take to be my best.

One of them, I forget which, said I should write a list of my good qualities.  I still have self-esteem issues. I believe Jesus died for me but I have a hard time believing I have value!

I felt a familiar prompting, I associate with God:  Do a blog.  OK.

  • I have a strong faith in God.  I believe He is always with me, no matter what.  One memory that comes to mind, Hurricane Ike.  Ron was very sick.  I was sitting at the kitchen table, the winds screaming around the house.  I could hear things crashing, banging, and breaking.  The next morning, I looked outside and saw a yard full of shingles.  Even at that moment, I knew God was with me, and would carry me through.  When I went out in the yard, OUR roof was fine.  I had all the other roofs in my yard!  
  • I am diligent about managing my illness.  No excuses, no justifications.  I am taking my medication as directed and living the "boring" life I need to maintain my mental health.  My doctor refers to me as "very stable" and I see it as a huge compliment.  
  • I enjoy educating people about my illness, especially people who are not going to look it up online. I don't mind sharing all my "embarrassing" secrets if I can help someone else get help.  I would love to be seen as a role model.  
  • I'm incredibly loyal.  Some would say, to a fault.  [grin]  Once I throw in with you, I'm with you 'till the bloody end.  I signed up for that.  
  • I enjoy educating myself.  I've taught myself how to crochet, knit, spin yarn, make soap from scratch, make candles, garden, and can foods.  I like to stretch my brain.
  • I enjoy working on the vending machines, helping to keep them in top shape.  I have 3 of the oldest machines in the "fleet".  We have very low repair bills because we can usually fix problems on our own.  "Check the connections"  Reboot.  
  • I enjoy physical labor.  I'm the "muscle" in my marriage, and my job, and I like it.  Need to move a heavy case of bottled water?  Unload a pallet of soda?  Push a wheelchair half a mile to the bus stop?  I'm your woman.  I remember, once, at the gym.  I had a 80 pound barbell on the floor in front of me.  A man walked up and asked if needed his "Help" to move the bar.  I said, no thanks, I'm lifting it.  I proceeded to do several dead-lifts and he ran off!  I can also lift Ron, if need be.  
  • I enjoy writing, and sharing all my life adventures with you guys.  
  • I have a good creative impulse.  I've knitted countless hats, knitted 2 afghans, crocheted even more.  If I ever get hurt, I hope I go to that hospital.  I enjoy creating beauty out of a ball of yarn, a bottle of paint, or some marigolds.  
  • I'm generous.  I actually made an afghan for every single one of Ron's care providers, after his accident.  
  • I have a very soft heart.  Sometimes, too soft!  I regularly cry at TV commercials.  
  • I enjoy learning, period.  I read mostly non-fiction, and know a little about almost anything.  It makes for some interesting conversations.  
  • I can be fearless, if need be.  I've taken many leaps of faith, over the years, and God's always caught me!  
  • I have a good work ethic.  I go there to work.  I will work until the job is done.  I even went to work once, when I had a migraine, because the food machine was down.  I took a bucket to work, got the machine running, vomited into my bucket, cleaned it out, and went home.  I work a lot harder, for myself, than I ever did for others.  
  • I have rescued every cat I've had, taking frightened, unsocialized "alley cats" into loving pets.  
That's it for now!  I hope you enjoyed it.  

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Just a girlfriend

I promised I would write a blog about how my sin (living with Ron before marriage), led to a lot of pain for me.

Ron used to say it every time I said we should get married.  "It's just a piece of paper, what's the big deal?"  I'd tell him, I didn't have any legal rights.

He saw marriage, at the time, as a way for women to "beat men up" when they divorced.  He saw a "clean" break with a live-in relationship, whoever had the lease kept the apartment, the other left.  Separate finances (we still do that) meant you wouldn't have any asset raiding.  No shared credit meant no shared bills.  When it was over, it was over, no mess, no fuss, no paperwork.

He knew someone who went through bankruptcy due to a bad divorce.  It was very emotionally draining for her, drawn-out, and complex.

He'd say, that's why he didn't want to get married.  Right now.  He later told me he never planned to marry.

I took it to God, and I had a dream.  I felt, if Ron didn't want to marry me I shouldn't stay with him.  God made it clear: stay.  Soon all my fondest dreams would come true (they did, I always wanted a little house, which I got 2 years later).  Even marrying Ron?  ESPECIALLY that, God promised.  In fact, Ron would DEMAND it.  Ha.  I thought.  That could only be from God.  I couldn't have ever imagine that.

Even though he loved me, he didn't feel I loved him.  He's told me that.  So, why marry?

I'd tell him, legal issues.  Oh, that will be fine.  You've been with me so long they will let you make decisions.  My family will let you make decisions (Ha!).  You can fill out any needed paperwork.

Why did I stay?  Well, I figured the man who got my virginity was my husband, I while he may not have seen me as his wife (he kept referring to me as his girlfriend even after we got married), I saw him as my husband, and I would do my best.  What he did was between him and God.

I had a rather complex reasoning system.  Mostly fear of leaving Ron, the unknown.  If I'd known what was ahead I'd have run out the door!

So, January, 2003.  Ron has a business.  I am his assistant manager, wearing many hats in the course of a day.  Ron has a sole proprietor business, that's the way the blind man stands operate.  The business can only be in the name of the blind vendor.  The guy from the state knows Ron and I have been together for 11 years and we say we are married.

Ron's family also knew we considered ourselves married, even without the ceremony.

Then the accident.  Ron has listed his brother as his next of kin.  Brother was notified and told the rest of the "blood" family. They went to the hospital, saw him, held his hand.

Me?  [snort]  I guess they forgot to come get me.  Someone else, hours later, asked where I was.  I don't know what they said.  I'm sure I don't want to know.  Whatever it was, it sent the man to my house.  He got me and brought me to the hospital.

Ron's family were not happy to see me.  I tried to ask why they hadn't contacted me and they basically said Ron was their business now.   I was told I am "Just a girlfriend".  They state they will not tell the doctors Ron called me his wife, therefore they get to make all the decisions for him.

One of the worst moments of my life.  The doctor comes in and tells all of us Ron needs emergency, open heart, surgery.  His mother says "I don't want you to cut him open."  I had to, literally, get on my knees and beg my father in law to sign the consent forms.  "Please, he's come this far.  Don't you want to know you did everything?"  It got worse.  A lot worse.

It ended up with them trying to place Ron in a nursing home, against my will, and slandering me to his doctors.  They felt, if I was 'incapable" of being Ron's caregiver, he'd go somewhere where he wouldn't be their problem.  If I was able to care for him, they'd have to help.  They did everything they could to make me seem unfit.

I have been told they said I was "crazy" and worse.  I didn't mind the gossip, if it meant I could take care of Ron.

Notice, all of this could have been prevented with a marriage.  I would have been entitled to make all of Ron's medical decisions.

What did the doctors see?  A devoted wife, literally living at her husband's bedside (they had a pull out lounge chair that converted to a bed), learning everything she needed to care for him.  I'm told Ron's doctor actually laughed in one face, when she said something unflattering about me.

And guess what?  I couldn't apply for disability benefits.  I couldn't apply for the County Health card.  I get anything from the business, because, you got it: "Just a girlfriend".  This from the man who worked with us for 2 years.  He did managed to cut me a one-week paycheck, as an "employee".

I'm unemployed.  I have bills, but I can't get at Ron's assets because I'm just a girlfriend.

I had to go begging, literally, for rent money.  Not a good moment either.  I really got to experience God's provision in a way I hope to never experience again.

All because I was "just a girlfriend".  Ron woke up.  Found his family had decided he'd go live with his elderly parents, and I'd be an unpaid caregiver for the THREE of them.  I think the family was trying to send me into caregiver burnout so they could put Ron in a nursing home.

Ron had a fit.  Demanded to go home, home being "With Heather and my cats".  Oh, yeah, the family had said I'd have to "let the cats go".

He was quite clear with his father, and then again with his brother when "bro" kidnapped me one day and said "If Ron really loved you, he'd have married you".  Ron told them if they couldn't treat me with the respect due his wife, he didn't want to hear from them.

We haven't.

And, as God had promised me in my dream not a year before, Ron demanded I marry him.  We did.  I have the piece of paper, a new last name, and a burning desire to warn others to NEVER live together unmarried

At the very, very, least, please make sure you have a power of attorney, and a power of medical attorney so YOU can make the decisions.  If they won't do that for you, walk.

No one should have to endure what I did.

I forgave them, the Bible commands it, and Ron scared the hell out of the "normals" at that stage.  I feel sorry for them.  Ron's a good person to have in your life.

Monday, May 14, 2012

God hates sin, not the sinner.

God hates sin.  What is sin?  I'll start with my own: gossip, self-pity, gluttony, pride, and laziness.  I'm headstrong, I want to run ahead with my own plans instead of waiting on God.

Some other sins?  Lying, theft, slander, hatred, fornication.

Yup.  I'm going there.  God doesn't hate the person committing the sin, he hates the sin itself, because the sin separates that person from him.

So, my premarital sex (with Ron) was just as offensive to God, as a gay orgy, because it separated me from him.  I chose what I wanted, over His will for my life.

That hurts God.  God is a just God, and He cannot have sin in Heaven.  Therefore, sinners, who die in their sin, are going to hell (I can just hear the commentary already, but you read me because I am frank).

That means, ANYONE who dies in sin, without Jesus, will go to hell.  It doesn't matter if you are gay, or a heterosexual gossip.  It doesn't matter if you're a lesbian, or an embezzler.  All sin is equal in God's eyes.

And, as Christians, we can't endorse people who are sinning.  "Oh, we love you and support you.  You will go to heaven when you die".  LIAR.

How is that person going to feel when they wake up in hell?  Pissed.  You lied to me, to make yourself and me, feel better.  If you had warned me I might have changed, gotten the sin out of my life, met Jesus, and gone to Heaven instead.

Did I just say a gay person is going to hell?  Yes, they are, if they are "practicing".  I have known a couple of lovely, Christian, ex-gay men.  They chose to remain celibate, battle the urges, and life a holy life.  I have nothing but respect for them.

Let me be absolutely clear:  Any sin will separate you from God.  If you die without Jesus in your life, you will go to hell.

I always go back to a quote I heard.  A famous atheist lived in a town with pastors from 3 different Christian faiths.  One day he called them all over to his house, for tea.

They sat down and he asked them a question  "Do you believe I will go to hell when I die".  They hemmed and hawed.  He interrupted "You do.  You think I will go to hell when I die, without Jesus.  WHY THEN HAVE YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT HIM?"

So, that's what I see as my job.  A herald if you will.  You can tell me to go to hell, have unnatural relations with the animal of your choice, etc... but I'm going to say it "Without salvation through Jesus, any sinner will go to hell when they die.  You must repent (turn from) your sins, apologize to God for them, and ask Jesus to be the boss of your life.  Then, study your Bible.  Pray daily.  Try to live a moral life".

I cannot endorse the "gay lifestyle".  I don't hate you.  I can't tell you black is white, and your sin isn't really sin because "You love each other".

The Bible has a quote on that:
Isaiah 5:20 HCSB
Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who substitute darkness for light and light for darkness, who substitute bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.

Or, as my husband says "Ain't nothing going in my mouth but food."

Second Strike

I am horribly contagious, and feel terrible.  I don't want to get too close to Ron and infect him, so no blog today.

I'll do one when I feel better.  It was really cute, tonight I "caught" him brushing the cat, gently.  The cat had thrown up a hairball in MY room while I tried to nap, so I warned Ron to go easy with treats, hairball, etc.

Ron decided he'd groom the cat.  Kitty wouldn't have to EAT the loose fur, Ron could brush it off and I cleaned the brush.  We got about a quarter cup of soft, black, hair.  I could have spun a couple feet of yarn.

And Bubba's a shorthair!  I really think it is cruel to have a long-haired pet in Houston, unless you will keep it in a very well air conditioned environment.

We went to work, I felt bad about that, but I had to get a delivery.  The man who ran over Ron works over by the dock and is as reckless as ever.  I don't want him getting a second strike at Ron.  He almost got ME one day!  [shudder]  That man is not safe.

When I'm (properly) medicated, I don't feel anything other than a mild alarm when I see him.  When I'm not, I get very upset that he's walking and talking and Ron's in a wheelchair.

That's just human nature.  I pray for the guy every day, but I guess I'll always feel resentful when I see him walking and using his right arm.  Ron has VERY limited use of his right arm after the accident (nerve damage and stroke).

So, I tell myself, gotta let it go... envision a little paper boat floating out to see, with all my resentment aboard.  Bye-bye.  It works pretty well.

I'm just happy he shops at the other vendor's machines.  One time, Ron accidentally ran over him with a  handcart.  I thought that was pretty funny.  Ron was in the wheelchair, dragging the cart on a bungee cord behind the chair, cut a corner, and turned, running over the both of his feet.  Ron apologized and he said "It's me [name]"   Ron carried on.  Ironic.

However, I am properly medicated so that's all you get on the subject.  I have no appetite, which is apparently a cold symptom (thank you Wikipedia).  I found that interesting.  I managed to force myself to eat a few times (I'm not queasy, just full-feeling) so I could take my pills.

Then I had to do the tango with the various cold and flu remedies so I don't kill myself by accident.  I'm at the congestion stage so I should be feeling better pretty soon.

If I'm not, though, I will ask Doc if he wants to do a phone appointment.  He's not young, and I don't want to get him sick.  We did one once when he'd hurt his knee, so I think he would do a phone appointment and avoid infecting the entire office with this virus.

We'll see how I feel, on Wednesday.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Witch Doctor

Whenever Ron gets sick, he asks me for help.  "Heather," he says "You're my witch doctor.  What do I need?"  I assess his symptoms and hook him up with various supplements and over the counter remedies.

I worked at a Target many years ago, as a cashier.  I enjoyed the work.  I'm very extroverted and enjoyed chatting with the customers about their purchases.

It used to annoy me to no end, when a sick person would come through my lane, coughing and sneezing all over me.  Then, I'd get sick.

I always thought "Why don't they buy the cold and flu remedy before they get sick?  Then they can just get it out of the medicine chest when they need it, without making the cashier sick.

Not to mention, in MY case I would be exposing other public transit passengers, and the driver, to whatever "cootie" I'd caught.  I don't want to get people sick.  

A little known fact:  I seldom get a cold or flu, generally it's a matter of years.  That's wonderful.

It's also slightly frustrating.  I went through my "Cold Box".  I have a plastic box with various cold and flu remedies, cough drops, etc.  Nearly all of them had decongestant!

I CANNOT take decongestants.  Why?

Do not take decongestants (eg, pseudoephedrine), stimulants, or diet pills while you are taking Wellbutrin without first checking with your doctor. They may increase your risk of seizures.

That would suck.  Just imagine it, I get the nighttime syrup we all know.  Chug a dose.  OOOPS!  

Happily, I also have single drugs in my arsenal: antihistamines (I'm at that itchy, runny, sneezy stage), and then plain old guiafenesen for the congestion that's coming in a  few days.  Besides, decongestants make me manic, and not in a good way.  

So, I tried to pretend I was not sick, it was some dear loved one.  What would I do for them?  I have no appetite, so I just had some high-fiber toast and veggie soup (that's my comfort food when sick, veggie soup) for dinner.  I had to eat, to take my mood pills.  

I took what I feel are the appropriate herbals.  Ones that do not interact.  I can't say what they are.  The FDA has a rule: Diagnose, cure, prevent, or treat.  You can NEVER use those words with regard to a supplement.  

Remember the Sea Silver people?  That's what got them.  They used the forbidden words for marketing.  

Oh, Allen.  I was kind of irritable.  Ron ran off and hid in the man cave.  I'll try to get him to do a video blog tomorrow.  

Sunday Night Readers

I'm battling a nasty cold today.

I just feel exhausted and very fretful.  Not very good company.

I know I get a lot of Sunday Night Readers... if I can I'll post something interesting later on.  (((hugs)))

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Mexican Mother's Day

My last, text, post was pretty grim; but I try to keep it real.

Hard to deal with mother issues, at mother's day, etc.  Today, did you know, is Mexican Mother's Day?

No, it's not the start of a racist joke.  It really is Mother's Day, in Mexico, today.  The waitress at our favorite taqueria wished me a good one and gave me a hug.   Then, paratransit left us stranded there for 2 hours, waiting on our pickup.

I was glad we hadn't planned anything else!  I was also glad I'd taken that lithium with my lunch.

Speaking of, I still need to get on the blood test lab and ride them about results.  I also need to (pray for me, please) call tech support because my modem isn't working very well.  Well, at this moment it is... ha ha.  So, I need to find out what kind of setting I need to do, lots of horrible talking over the phone (the customer service techs don't understand audio processing disorder).  [Shudder]  It's almost enough to make me wish I did take anti-anxiety drugs.

I hate dealing with customer service over the phone.  I may recruit Ron to help.

We've been seeing a lot of political stuff lately.  Pretty safe to say I'm conservative, but that doesn't mean I rubber-stamp.

I once voted Democrat, against a judge who'd let a baby-raper out on bail.  I also vote "against" one candidate, because I find them to be an embarrassment.  As a rule, though, I'm conservative.

I do believe a woman has a right to abortion.  Why?  Well, a mother with an unwanted pregnancy is not going to turn around and start taking prenatal vitamins, doing yoga, and eating organic.  No, she will continue to abuse her body and the baby, creating a special needs nightmare.  Very few people are willing to adopt a special-needs baby, so the kid ends up in the system.

A baby with just Fetal Alcohol Syndrome can cost society up to a million dollars, each.  You can do the math.  I also believe a woman who really wants an abortion will get one by any means necessary, and it's important to do it in a hygienic and safe manner.

Yes, it's murder.  No one sin is worse than any other, I believe.  Have I ever had an abortion?  No.  I believe a few people I know, have had them.  One told me how she got all the way into the clinic before changing her mind.

Now, there's a question.  Say I got raped tonight.  Would I have an abortion?  Oh, that would be tough.

First, I am not mother material.  I can get very "sick" when I'm constantly sleep deprived.  I lack patience, I feel.

Secondly, I take some harsh stuff.  All 3 of my medications cause birth defects.  Serious ones, like heart  trouble, and God only knows what they do to the poor fetal brain.

I guess this is what I'd do.  I tend to sit around thinking about worst-case scenarios, a lot of the time, and I've actually considered this.

First, I'd take the morning after pill.  I don't see a problem, there.

If I did become pregnant, I'd pray on it and seek some counsel.  I would also do serious research on just what birth defects run along with my medication.   I am a bit foggy on that.  I can tell you all about my seizure risk, why I need to avoid decongestants, and all, but I'm clueless about the actual defects.

Thirdly, if the birth defects appeared mild I'd seek an adoptive couple.  Who would want a special needs child, most likely to become bipolar?  Well, I'm sure they exist.  I wouldn't want the kid going to one of those very large families of adopted special needs children.  They'd get lost in the shuffle.   I'd want a small, loving family.  One that wouldn't freak if the kid came out looking spooky.  I'd probably need to add "good medical insurance" to that mix!

Due to a medical condition, I'd have to have a c-section.  Booo.  Long recovery time.

Why am I so morbid tonight? Oh, yeah, mother's day.  One of them, at least.

Happily, Ron is probably giving me tomorrow off.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Video Blog!

Jesus died for everything she did to me.

I figured, if this was still bothering me, I probably needed to talk about it.

Two things happened this week: I put up a photo of my birth mother, and it's the anniversary of her death.  Prior to her death, I had no photos.

When I was a kid, my Dad didn't want any reminders.  Besides, I did get to see her now and then.  When she was able to see me (seldom).  She'd always cry when I left.

When my sister came out in 2003, she brought some photos of Mom, and her autopsy report.  Did you know, she had an extra spleen?  Her liver looked like she drank as much as she did, etc., but it was clearly heart disease that killed her.

I accepted the photos and put them in my Bible.  I'd take them out rarely, looking at them, wondering.

Now's probably about the time I talk about my "experience" 10 years ago.  I had a dream one night.  A woman came to me.  She had short, wavy, gray hair.  She radiated love.  She apologized for hurting me and swore "I didn't know".  I could literally feel her emotion, it was clear, whatever she'd done she had done out of ignorance, she loved me, and the guilt was eating her up.  So, I forgave her and the dream ended.

I thought it was an awfully weird dream.  I even checked to see if my Grandmother was still alive - she was the only family member with short, wavy, gray hair (she was my Dad's mother).  She was fine.  I chalked it up to "odd dreams".

When I saw the photo, I recognized it had been my birth mother in the dream.  So.  I know:  She loved me as much as she could.  She was ignorant about the effects of alcohol on a fetus.  She was horrified when she was shown what she'd done.

I could see how God would have to let her apologize; and I had to be given the opportunity to forgive her.  That's the thing, though.

I don't know about other people, so I'll only speak to me: I have forgiven her.  I just have to wonder at her choices.

I wonder, "How could you think it was a good idea to drink that much (up to 200 ml a day of hard alcohol) while pregnant?  Especially since I was planned?... How could you ever think having a baby was going to improve your mental health?   Did you really think that you could care for a helpless infant?"

All that goes through my head, every time I look at her photo.  I've love to say it doesn't, but it does.  I'm just baffled.  From all accounts, she was a very bright woman, but I hate to say I wish I'd seen more evidence.

So, I go through this with the photo.  When I was a child, I wanted photos.  I wanted a lot of contact.  I didn't get either.  Now I'm an adult.  No contact, but photos, and I don't know that I even want it on display.

She didn't just hurt me by drinking while pregnant, the neglect (and I do remember it), was the most pain I've ever had in my life.  All alone, hungry, thirsty, filthy diaper, crying for hours.   It took me years to catch up to the growth curve.  I had "failure to thrive" and developmental delays.

I guess I'll leave the photo up.  Mom has given her accounting to God.  Jesus died for everything she did to me.   It's not my place to judge.

I just feel a deep pain that she treated me so.  Wasn't I worth sobering up?  Couldn't she have taken her medication if it meant she'd get some visits?   Why was I always just a distant second to the alcohol?

Questions you'll hear from every child of an alcoholic.  Good thing I have my daily reader (The Courage to Change).  

God's always happy to hear my vent; and you.  Thanks for listening.

This is where faith comes in

I'm typing this on my very old computer, so if this looks odd you'll know why. 

I have just not been feeling inspired, or talkative, recently.  Because I was sick?  Because I'm on new medication?  I don't know.  I love to post when I'm manic, but sadly, I lost that to the migraine.  Agh. 

A lot of stress on my plate.  We got the homeowners insurance quote.  They want over a thousand dollars, for a policy with a three thousand dollar deductible.  I do not live on the coast, I'm well inland (it takes hours to get to my house, from the bay).  Ron and I agree, it's all the tornadoes.  They drove up the rates. 

I just know that, paying $3K deductible, for us, is impossible.  Charging $1K for that policy seems illegal.  I do plan to get another quote. 

This is where faith comes in, too.  Had God allowed any damage to my home?  No.  Is it likely He will?  No.  God created the universe, he can certainly send severe weather "away", right?  Yes.  Did God help us get the house?  Yes.  Did He help us fix the bathroom?  Yes. 

I also have a long, tiresome, list of things to do.  Call the blood lab and find out what the [censored] happened to my blood.  I think they lost it, which means (sigh) another needle stick.  Catch up on laundry.  Yardwork.  Etc. 

Right now I'm having a hard time finding joy in anything, but that's OK.  God needed me this way, and I don't have jovial all the time.  I am allowed to be sad, tired, and more than a little battered! 

It's OK to curl up with a good book instead of having a big Day Out, if that's all I can manage. 

Although today is accounting day, at home.  We do have a hamburger date later on. 

Don't forget, I pray for you every day.  (((hugs)))

So, I can leave it in God's hands (after getting another quote, I am tremendously opposed to getting raped like that). 

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Even Medicated (a political post)

You know, it would seem like a no brainer.  The economy is in flames.  Unemployment is high.  Savings are depleted, people are losing hope.  Foreclosures are rampant... and it's an election year.

I'd think, personally, the populace would be getting ready to toss out the president.  I'm not going to point fingers, but isn't that what people do?  If the economy deteriorates under someone's presidency, they generally get tossed out like an old sock in November.

Now, thanks to the Republicans, I really doubt it.

I post on conservative Christian message boards.  Shocking, isn't it?  [snort]  And what do I hear?  Everyone is excited about the Republican ticket: Romney and Rubio (maybe).  Everyone is hoping it's Rubio.  They like the way he talks (reminds me of someone else, 4 years ago) [snort].

Wait a minute.  The Republicans, in a vital election year, have chosen a Mormon and an admitted anchor baby?  These are the guys who are going to take back the White House?

Agh.  They don't make enough medication for me to understand that reasoning.  In fact, it seems to me, it's a really good way to keep people from voting Republican.

I'm pretty boring when I'm medicated, but I have to wonder, are they trying to make the conservative voters whore our their vote just to get rid of the incumbent?  Or, are the trying to make the opposition so distasteful they'll let the incumbent stay another 4 years?

I have to wonder, even medicated, about conspiracies.

Friday, May 4, 2012

"I don't want to catch it!"

I just crawled out of a two-day migraine.  It was hell.

I've only had three in my life, and I hope I never have another.  However, as I retched bile into a bucket, my faithful cat staring up at me with concern, and Ron cooing "Poor Baby", I also realized I am incredibly blessed.

I blame the vegetables.  Ron delayed half my pay this week (I got the balance today), so I took what I did have and bought healthy things.  Doc wants me to improve my diet, so I got a small squash, celery, green beans, and some stir fry beef.

The beef was really cut too thick for a stir fry, but I made a good one anyway.  The vegetables were nicely crunchy, flavored with a little garlic and sautéed in vegetable oil.

I felt very proud of myself, eating my vegetables.  Until the next morning, the actual day of my doctor's appointment, when I woke up and went pretty much straight to vomiting.

I had just enough time to grab a bucket.  Oh, it was horrible.  Ron wondered if I could still make it to Doc's.

My head felt like a kettledrum.  "No" I croaked.  "You need to cancel".

I've grown a lot in the last couple years.  If I get lonely, I'll tell Ron "I got lonely" and get a cuddle.  If I want some attention from the cat, I make sad noises at him until he comes over for petting.  Sometimes, it works.

I've also told Ron: If I have a migraine, I need to hear that I am poor baby, and I need to hear it a lot.   He's very obliging.

Oh, I was so miserable.  Day one was pretty bad, and that was with the phenergan (anti-nausea) suppository.  I managed to crash for a few hours but then the vomiting returned with a vengeance.  I did manage to hold down a little water.  Enough to prevent dehydration, which is very bad with my medications.

Oh, and the medication.  No mood pills for 2 days?  Not fun.  Really, closer to 3 days.  I had a lot of anxiety Day one.   Ron brought me an ice bag.  Oh, I love that man.

You may wonder why I don't take an actual migraine medication.  A couple of reasons:  I am at pretty high risk of heart disease, due to medication, weight, and family history.  It is not a good idea to take tripitans on top of that - they can cause heart attacks in young, healthy, thin people.  Secondly, tripitans make me freak out - big time.  Like -  I wouldn't sleep for a week manias.  Yike.  I'll take the migraine!

The phenergan helps me sleep, which is what I really need with a migraine, and it keeps me from vomiting.  It did that, but wore off.  Ron tore apart the fridge looking for another, and scolded me, gently, for running out.

Then I threw up again, and he called Doc for a refill.  Walmart was out!  I couldn't believe it.  I had to wait a whole day.

Day one, I managed to fall asleep, but I kept tossing, turning, and suffering.  From what I have heard, a migraine is a lot like a hangover.  I've never had a hangover, but from what I have seen it's pretty similar.  You vomit a lot, your head throbs in agony, you want to die.

I was vomiting bile - it was ugly.  Ron was just gaping in shock at the horrible noises, and I thanked God he was blind.  I reeked.  I hadn't even had time to put on deodorant before the migraine hit.  My hair was a tangled nest.

He kept telling me I was a poor baby, and calling the Walmart pharmacy about my prescription.

I wear it back in a ponytail, so I kept scraping it back and re-fastening the elastic - the only problem, I didn't want it pulled back tightly, so it kept coming loose.  I flopped back and forth in bed, retching into my bucket and begging God to help me endure the pain.

Swearing I would never, ever, eat another vegetable!

I feel like I got robbed, two days of my life, gone forever.

Day 2 was slightly better.  I was still vomiting, but not as much, and still holding down enough water to stave off dehydration.  

I was fine eating TV dinners!  But a healthy dinner and I'm prostrated for days!   Oh, the irony!

I wondered how long I'd have the migraine.  I've only had a couple, 2-day migraines, but read they could go up to three.  Oh, how hideous.  I begged God for help.

I also tried to croak out a few prayers for the unreached, recipients, and all.  I missed having my God Time but figured He didn't need me vomiting at Him.

Ron called a friend, who came by to take him to the pharmacy.  Ron was, as usual, late coming out, so I staggered outside in my nightgown.  Chuck took one look at me and rolled up his window.

"I don't want to catch it!"

If I hadn't been hurting so badly, I would have fallen down laughing.  "You can't catch this" I croaked. I  told him Ron was coming and crawled back into bed.

Ron came home with the phenergan, just in time to hear me vomiting into my bucket.  Oh, relief.

I was a little alarmed.  Doc wrote me a prescription for 30!  I hope I never need them!

I inserted the little devil .  They are almost impossible to remove from the packaging.  That's mean, torturing sick, nauseous, people.

I drank a little more water and crawled off to bed.  I slept horribly, had nightmares, but woke up feeling somewhat better.

I felt pretty frail, like the headache wanted to come back, but it didn't.  So, we went to work.

Mom will tell you, and this drove her nuts:  I have a policy, I do not eat until I am hungry.  For me, that meant a small snack around lunch, a little macaroni later, and then eventually more macaroni and a big handful of mood stabilizers (OK by Doc).

I need to catch up!   I know my levels are off.  I cried as I watched "Undercover Boss" tonight.

That's not normal for me.
Coming off a 2 day migraine. Exhausted.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

I love my Haldol

Today, Ron skipped a trip to the liquor store.  I was thrilled.  I didn't make a big production out of it, though.  I just said "Oh, OK".

We had today off.

Yesterday was pretty awful for both of us.  For the first time ever, not enough money to pay me.  Not only that, we got the bill for our homeowner's insurance.  Ouch.  For that kind of money, I'd expect a platinum policy!  Instead, we get a $3,000 deductible.

Last year, we did some research, and it is the best deal.  I'm just whining about it because I can.  I try to be positive and upbeat in 99% of my life, here's where you'll find me.

Ron was very discouraged.  I tried to be upbeat but got infected with Ron's pessimism after he fell asleep. I put up some prayer requests.  We have a lot of canned sodas so I put up a prayer request for people to buy them.

At any rate, it looks like the old days, old pay are behind me now.  However, I can have fun on the cheap.

I did sleep well last night, since we had today off I slept in until 7:20.  I thought that was pretty funny.

I did have a headache, so I took something for that, medication, the usual.  Did my God Time.

Last night I noticed I was getting a little manic, so I decided to invest it in housework.   Today, Ron wanted to demolish the wall.

As part of the demo, Pete was able to pry a whole sheet of drywall off the studs, tiles still adhered.  I had propped it in the back yard.

Times I get a little annoyed at the neighbors, wish I had "tighter" deed restrictions.  That wasn't one of them!  We have a privacy fence so no one would have seen it unless they came in the yard without permission.

It was about 5 x 6 feet.  Pretty heavy.  Ron and I got it up on top of the trash can (mostly me, with the lifting, but Ron couldn't stand the thought of standing by), and he went after it with a hammer.  He found it very satisfying.

The next "bit" had a lot of very long, sharp, nails.  Ron hasn't had his tetanus vaccine since 2003.  I haven't had one since 1997.  I borrowed the hammer and nailed them down (bent the sharp pointer part flat and parallel to the surface).  Ron thanked me and resumed the work.

After he finished, he said "I can see why Pete likes demolition work".  I went after the front room and garage, my goal today was to toss all the obvious trash.

Also, to trash things I didn't need.  Between Ron's project, Pete's use of the can, and a week of household trash, I didn't have much room, but I got a lot stuffed in there.  Then I took a nap.

Later on, I got up.  Did some research.  Rearranged a cabinet.  Resented basketball season, they are eliminating my Law & Order to play games.  Yawn.

Then, I cooked up a nice stir fry for dinner.  I used garlic and a little red pepper, some veggies, and strips of beef.  I have enough leftover for breakfast.

Tomorrow, I'll put the pot roast on a bed of baby carrots and homegrown potatoes, in the slow cooker, and turn it on.

I see my psychiatrist tomorrow for my tune-up.  It should be a great visit.

I love my Haldol.

The squares

I woke up in the middle of the night, to the sound of Ron coughing, again and again.  And again.  And again.  I finally got up to offer him ...