Special Peple

I am almost certain my lithium level will come back toxic.  I am having a lot of physical symptoms.  I just feel ill.  Today, at church, between grief for Bubba (last place I expected) and taking care of Ron, I just felt like I was watching it all happen at the other end of a tunnel.  Afterwards, I felt very dizzy, like I just got off a carnival ride.   I had to keep sitting down.  My left arm kept twitching.  Now I'm enjoying the nausea on top of the dizzy, sick, weakness. 

I've never had a hangover, but it felt like what I have seen in others, nausea, weakness, shaky.  Surprisingly, I do not have a headache. 

I guess one could consider it a good thing - my physical symptoms certainly distract me from my grief.  That's what the addicts do: use the addiction to mask emotional pain.  I don't want to do that, I just want to feel well.  I do need to grieve and it's hard to do sick. 

Considering the crisis last week, I do not want to reduce my lithium dosage unless I have to.  I could see myself in very bad shape if I went around playing doctor.  Not to mention, I did sign a paper saying I wouldn't change my doses. 

I didn't sleep well last night, a curious cat exploring my room and coming to visit.  She's a sweetie, I'm glad I picked her.  I told Ron, the "approximate age 6" on her card probably means she's almost as old as Bubba.  At any rate, I might not have her for long, but I'm all about the quality. 

Years ago, Ron teased me about "Heather's Home for the Aged".  Bubba was old.  Frosty was old.  Ron was "old" if you consider mid 50's to be old.  I guess it is, because most senior housing wants mid 50's as the starting age for admission. 

I swore, swore I wouldn't get another old cat.  They rip my heart out when they go.  God had other plans.  I found it so sad, as I sat in the chair, petting my new baby, people asked her age, and then immediately dismissed her. 

She's very attractive.  She's incredibly sweet.  She's already fixed and uses her box.  She has a soft and engaging meow and beautiful green eyes - but she's "old".  Get rid of it.  Put it down.   

To be clear, Bubba was dying regardless of what I did. I just chose to make it easy.

Reminds me of some people after Ron's accident.  "Oh, he's broken.  Get rid of him." 

Huh.  Like I told the man, pointing at blind Ron in his wheelchair "I married him the way he is now".  I don't value externals. 

Sure, if Ron woke up tomorrow, young, handsome, sighted - healthy, I'd be thrilled.  I want that for him, and I know if nothing else Ron will get that in heaven.  If I could give it to him, I would. 

When I met Ron, I didn't care about his looks, I valued his mind and his heart.  I could care less about his flaky skin (psoraisis), his blind eyes, the scar on his neck, or his facial feature.  I cared about the fact that he gently laid his hand on my head as I rummaged for something in my bag (as we exchanged phone numbers).  I cared about his patience when I made a mistake, and his delight when I figured something out. 

I don't think I told you this, Ron and I were enrolled in a "special jobs for special people" program at a national fast food chain.  Ron entered the program before me.  We were assigned to the same restaurant, and, after training, they put us together on the front register. 

We're both extroverts.  We did the job, and did it well.  Together, we make a dynamic team.  You should have seen us working the drive through.  I'd take the orders and assemble them.  Ron would make the drinks.  I had fans - one guy wouldn't buy anything unless I put the order together.  He was diabetic and I was the only one who always gave him the diet soda he wanted.   We had a lot of fun, and as I learned the ropes, I learned a lot about Ron. 

I think, if you really want to know someone, it helps to work with them.  You see them dealing with frustrations, making mistakes (and hopefully owning them), dealing with superiors, and dealing with those lower down the food chain. 

I remember reading a job search book.  A manager of a Fortune 500 company did a lot of interviews.  After every interview, he and his secretary would talk about the applicant.  Many times, the applicant treated her like crap, and they'd dismiss him.  The ones who treated her with respect got the job. 

So, looks weren't important to me with the cat.  I once had a very ugly cat.  She also had one eye, which made her look even worse.  But she was a sweet baby.  I care about that. 

My new baby kept me up, making noise.  She was exploring every inch of my bedroom.  If she figured out I was awake (ie - another trip to the bathroom - I get up a couple times a night to urinate), she'd come over for a minute or so of petting.  Then we'd go to sleep, or I would. 

I think the sleep deprivation has a lot to do with my symptoms today - I hope it does.  I'm staying hydrated, and I need to eat pretty soon.  I'm thinking macaroni.  I need salt. 

And there go the neighbors.  [sigh]  God love them.  Everytime I have a delivery, and it's nice, they play for hours outside my bedroom.  I will probably not be falling asleep, as needed, at 6. 

Worst case I can skip my God Time and shower, get up at 3:15, do them later. 

Or I can sleep in here, on the floor.  I'll see how rowdy they get.  That's the only bad thing about working off hours.  People don't expect you do sleep. 

Ugh.  I lost my train of thought. 

So, church was good.  Our rides were good.  I gave away a Bible on the way.  While Ron and I had to wait an hour for our ride from Starbucks to church, we had good books.  I'm reading Book 4 in the "People of the Ark" series.  It's the last one. 

The author creates very interesting, flawed, characters.  No one is all good or all evil.  I like that. 

Ron, happily, is already asleep.

Oh, you might be interested to hear how we have the cats set up.  My bedroom connects to the bathroom, via a door.  We closed the door to the bathroom, and let Pretty Girl roam around in the bedroom and bath.  Baby Girl has the rest of the house, although we've let Pretty out when Baby Girl is with Ron (we shut Ron's door) or outside (we shut the cat door, but I don't like to do that).  Baby Girl is very independent and spends a lot of time outside.  She can circle the house and look at Pretty Girl, through the bedroom window.  Pretty Girl can look out at Baby Girl. 

I think they can get along pretty well.  We just want to take our time introducing them. 

Last night Baby Girl came home while Ron was sitting on my bed petting the new cat and giving her treats.  I'm sure BG felt very threatened - she uttered a feline profanity and took a flying leap at Pretty Girls' head.  They hissed and growled for a minute until I got them separated.   Understandable.  I also fed Baby Girl a delicious can of food, right outside Pretty Girl's door.  BG ate it and had a good time doing so, her tail was up and happy. 

We don't plan to have the cats meet for another couple days, and then just let them work it all out.  Ron is willing to go above and beyond to help. 

And I need to eat, take my nighttime pills, call Mom and Dad, and love on my baby.  Just pray I get some sleep!