It's a moment

Sunday night the neighbors were making noise in the backyard (not much, but enough) until about an hour after my "bedtime".  I was pretty tired Monday. 

I have had a nasty headache pretty much every day, lately.  I went to work in spite of it and did what I had to do. 

I came home, got a nap, and watched a movie with Ron.  He swore it was "funny and really good".  I was not happy to see it was a Woody Allen film.  I found it very depressing, especially the adultery scene.  It, to me, ended the evening on a depressing note. 

Then I had a nightmare about Donald Trump.  Last night, I had a nightmare about Ted Cruz.  I asked God to make my voting clear, I want to put the right person in office, but I never expected actual nightmares. 

I'm sure at least one of them would be horrified. 

Anyway, horrible headaches every day this week so far.  Sunday had the vomiting migraine.  Monday had the bad headache.  Tuesday had the bad headache. 

"Why" Ron asked "Do you get so many headaches?"

"Lithium Carbonate", I replied, as I swallowed OTC headache pills. 

He swore. 

Yeah. 

Today had the bad headache.  But first let's go back to Tuesday.  Are you dizzy yet? 

Tuesday I slept in until 7, woke up with the headache.  Ron and I watched a completely depressing movie about 2 people dying of cancer.  This is what he wants to watch on his day off? 

After the rain, I decided to take the bus to the grocery store, make the deposit to cover my health insurance.  Ouch.  I could have a lot of fun with that money. 

Ron was asleep so I left him, took my phone, and rode the bus.  I made the deposit and bought some powdered drink mix. 

I had talked to Ron by now, and he was interested in the chicken special.  If you have a Popeyes in your area, do they have the dark meat 2 piece special on Tuesdays?  We do, it's $1.29.  I bought 2 and then went to McDonald's and bought myself two junior cheeseburgers and a small fry. 

I ate the fries, hot and delicious, as I waited on the bus.  The wind was blowing from the west and my hair whipped around my head under the looming dark skies (but it didn't rain). 

I came home.  We ate our dinner and watched "Penelope" a cute movie with some very good actors.  It was a cute romantic comedy.  Much better than the depressing morning selection. 

Yes, the morning movie was "good" but it was really depressing.  "It's a good thing" I scolded Ron "I'm manic.  If I were depressed this would make me kill myself!" 

Today I woke up with yet another bad headache.  We went to the warehouse and got some candy.  Our pickup was late, then rode us around for 2 hours before dropping us at work (all legal and permissible, it's the chance you take riding paratransit), well after our appointment time (not OK). 

We had one hour in which to stock.  Good luck with that!  Ensue frantic scramble.  We did what we could. 

We left, and on the way home Ron's boss called my cell phone.  Ron can be a little - ah - reactive so the boss prefers to talk to me direct. 

He asked what equipment we needed.  I told him.  He said he was bringing a new coffee machine.  Booo.  I didn't say that. 

Coffee machines are high-drama, high-stakes, customers screaming at you and calling you at 1 AM because they didn't get their creamer, expensive to maintain, problem children.  We'd rather not have one at all. 

He said it was all happening on the 7th.  OK.  At least we have some time to prepare.  Thank God it is not on a DR Pepper delivery day - we have to get to work at 4-5 in the morning.  The new equipment deliveries never come until around noon.  This is happening on a Monday, a much more reasonable day for us. 

I'll just have to get some treats for the guys.  But I have plenty of time. 

We came home and I got a nap.  Yay.  We did have the garbage trucks riding around and one of the "neighbors" was blasting loud polka music.  Ugh.  Sometimes I think the devil wants to make me a racist. 

Then I remind myself, my expectations are not reasonable, considering.  I grew up in some pretty high end neighborhoods.  Even back then, the houses were valued in the 6 figures.  We didn't have a maid, and the kids did the yard work, but other than that it was a very nice area, and, naturally, very quiet. 

But the median home price in Houston is about $175K, averaging two estimates.  The average home in my subdivision costs about 145K.  My home is valued at about 70K (rounding up).  So, you can see, I get a third of the average. 

If I'm getting one third the price I should expect 1/3 the quality, the civilization, sometimes.  I know that sounds awful but I try to be practical.  I'm going to have disruptions. 

The noisy polka man has started up again.  He likes to (and this, to me, is so trashy), open the doors on his truck, turn up the car stereo, open his front door, and play the music loudly so he can hear it in the house, I suppose. 

Doesn't he know about loose animals?  I would worry about someone's dog getting loose and defecating on my seats, or getting into my home and becoming aggressive.  I would worry about home invasion thugs, keys in the ignition (they are, aren't they?  To play the stereo?), etc.  I would worry. 

I would just go and spend some money on a boom box of one of those mp3 docking stations.  That's me.  I guess, in his world, listening to the car, from the house, is the done thing. 

I'm not even angry, just baffled and more than a little resigned. 

Ron turned on "the ocean" - I bought him a subliminal relaxation CD set to the sound of an ocean (he knows about it), as his solution.  He uses it to drown out annoying background, or when he wants to sleep.  Are we more relaxed?  No. 

I turned on my own music. 

So, I got a nap. 

I woke up and gave Biscuit his "livers".  I bought some Sheba Chicken and Liver wet food, I thought they might like it.  Biscuit adored it.  So did Baby Girl and God knows who else. 

We went to Walmart.  I got all my medication.  It was a sack, literally.  A huge sack of bottles. 

I never really feel "crazy" until I look at my medication, or the long string of prescriptions.  I look at it in resignation and more than a little awe: I need all this just to stay alive and functional.  Then, I'm glad I have it, but it's a moment. 

I will never, in my life, forget the moment I was told I could take medication for my illness.  I had a condition.  It had a name.  I could treat it. 

I didn't have to endure until I died.  I could fix this. 

I also remember my profound frustration as I tried to find a prescribing doctor!  My illness escalated and I asked my aunt to help.  She found me Doc. 

The minute I met Doc I liked him.  Then he went into the sample cabinet and started handing me bottles.  "Take this in the morning." 

It was morning.  I opened it up and took the prescribed dose.  Doc laughed.  "You're going to do fine!   Take one of those, too." 

That's one of the things I love about myself (and you will very seldom hear me use that phrase): the minute I was literally given medication, I took it.  I had a very clear idea, by this point (2 months after diagnosis), what I could expect. 

Honestly, though, I expected more digestive issues and fewer headaches, but everyone's different.  I try not to complain.  While my hands shake, I can still do my needlework, albeit slowly. 

I figure some newly diagnosed person, or family member, reads me now and then, trying to get a grasp on this illness.  I hope I can provide some insight:
1.  Take your meds as directed.
2.  Accept the side effects as necessary.
3.  Avoid drugs and alcohol. 

The three keys to success.  And I won't even charge you!  :p   I should put that in a sidebar or something. 

We went shopping "for fun" now.  I bought more "livers" and cat treats.  Ron wanted plastic bags.  I needed soda. 

Then I hit the yarn section. 

Ron had remarked I was a little manic.  In my opinion, it was a good mania.  I was talkative but I could shut up.  Energetic but I could slow down. 

However, I was a little interested in the yarn aisle.  I staggered off with 13 skeins and various "notions" (supplies), moaning "I need to stop".  Thank God I had a gift card. 

I do, however, have plenty of new projects.  One of which involves a denim heather and a gray heather worked together.  I don't know if I will knit or crochet that one. 

"It's nice to see you up" Ron said as we approached the checkout. 

Yeah, I told him.  I used to feel guilty about the manias, that I was feeling "too good", but then I realized, screw it!  I have spent too much of my life suicidal to feel guilty about feeling good, for a change.  As long as I was taking everything as directed, I told him, I wasn't going to feel bad about it.   My lithium levels are perfect. 

God knows the depression will come soon enough.