Pork liver pate

I slept late, had some really weird dreams, and woke up with a headache.  Torbie and sometimes Biscuit, have been sleeping with me. 

I got up and took some Excedrin.  First mistake.  Then I fired up my teakettle and had 2 cups of pu-erh tea.  It is aged a special way and has a unique, strong, flavor.  I like it.  I accidentally made it with 3 cups of water instead of 2, but it was still good, albeit weak.   Then I had a diet Dr Pepper. 

Whole paragraph above, big mistake.  Too much caffeine! 

I decided to bait Possum's trap with some pork liver pate. The cats went crazy when I opened up the can, and ate it themselves.  Good thing I didn't put it in the trap, I'd just be catching cats!  But, if you are trying to trap a cat, try it. 

I took a shower and watched some TV.  Ron finally woke up.  I was about to do his injection when it began raining and the power went out.  I decided to take a nap.  Full of pate, Biscuit joined me and flung a leg over mine like a husband would.  Torbie also joined me. 

I had a good little nap and got up.  The power was back on.  Time to give Ron his shot. 

I asked him to use a bath wipe on his stomach, as he wouldn't take a bath.  I made my preparations.  Sterilized my "tray" and got the rubbing alcohol and wipes.  I unwrapped the syringe and took the cap off the needle.  I drew up the air into the needle, then poked the vial.  My left hand was shaking horribly.  I could barely hold on to the vial.  I had an awful time getting the solution to flow into the needle.  It was frustrating and upsetting. 

I finally got "enough" in the needle.  I couldn't get any more out of the vial.  Was there more?  Hell with it, I threw it away. 

I capped the needle and put it on the tray with the rubbing alcohol and the cotton wipes.  I went into Ron's room as he lay on the bed and disinfected him as best I could.  I uncapped the needle and got a pinch of his skin.  I pushed the needle into his skin.  It wouldn't break the skin.  I pushed harder, and then harder still.  It lurched in, to about 1/3 depth.  Good. 

I depressed the plunger, and the fluid went into him.  I pulled it out.  Nothing came out.  Ron kept asking me when I was going to do it.  I told him it was done, already.  He was impressed. 

He wanted to take me out after that, and, frankly, I could use a treat after all the drama of trying to do the shot.  So we went out.   Ron, as usual, got very drunk before we left. 

One thing I admire about Ron is his generosity.  When I first met him, one time he bought me breakfast at work because I hadn't cashed my first paycheck, yet.  And we weren't even "interested" at that point.  At least, I wasn't.  I don't think Ron would remember. 

Drinking magnifies that.  Everyone knows that drunk who buys a round for the whole bar.  That would be Ron. 

Ron is also verbally abusive.  Drinking magnifies that.  He is at his worst to me when he has been drinking, all the brakes are off. 

So we went to dinner.  Things were fine until the driver came early.  Ron wanted me to chase down the driver and offer to buy him dinner.  Lately, Ron has been buying a LOT of dinners for the drivers, and they aren't cheap.  The average SINGLE dinner runs between $10-$20.  Every time we go out, he wants to buy the driver a dinner. 

At first it was cute and sweet.  Now it has become alarmingly expensive, and some of the drivers are getting entitled attitudes about it "So you're going to buy me dinner?  You did for the OTHER driver!"

We can't afford to buy every driver a takeout dinner.  We can't afford it.  

I told Ron this.  He said all my bills were paid, what did I care?  I reminded him his medication costs well over $600 a month.  He blew that off. 

He kept insisting I drag the driver into the store (which would have entailed walking across a large parking lot, and back, in my flip flops), give him a menu, and let him buy ANYTHING he wanted. 

I told him no, I won't do it.  We can't afford it.  He went into yes we can again and then began verbally abusing me.  I reminded him there was a large table of policemen right near us, and they could hear him.  He didn't care and began calling me worse names. 

So I got up, paid (with the money he had given me) and walked out.  I told him, as I passed him, I would come back to get him when the driver pulled up front.  Ron, so driven to be the "generous, fun client" continued to abuse me. 

I went out front and sat on a bench.  I could see the waiters looking at me, wondering what was going on.  Ron, I'm sure, was raving loudly.  He sent me a text message demanding I come get him.  I did not.  The driver acted like he was going to pull forward. 

I went back in and told Ron to grab his leftovers if he wanted to eat them.  He called me a retarded bitch.  I said OK and I walked back out. 

He sent me a curse text - basically repeating what he had already said, and I sat on the bench.  This is me, ignoring you, being an abusive asshole. 

I would have loved to get his blood pressure.  After a couple more minutes he apparently asked a waiter to take him out.  They brought him over to me.  I got up and walked away. 

I stood about 20 feet away.  I suppose they told him I walked off. 

The driver saw the man in the wheelchair and came over to get us.  Ron told him he wanted to buy dinner, but I "wouldn't" let him.  The driver said he wasn't hungry, anyway.  I gave him some candy (I always give drivers a bag of candy with a tract or scripture booklet), and he said he would give it to the bus washers. 

I chatted with the driver all the way home.  He thought I was pretty cool, especially when I told him about a house for rent in the neighborhood.  Ron muttered under his breath for a while and then shut up. 

He was very quiet when I brought him in the house.  I was expecting "it" to start up again when I shut the door but he was very quiet and went to bed. 

Tomorrow morning he plans to combine a work-related shopping trip with a liquor run. 

I just wish he could hurry up and get on the pain pills, already.  I am sick of living like this. 

I don't think Ron on opioids or whatever will make him a nice guy, but maybe he won't be as big an asshole. 

I gave him a freaking shot today.  I buttered his pancakes at dinner, put syrup on them, and cut them up for the love of all that's holy.  I do everything for him. 

I don't want him kissing my butt but I do expect respect and consideration in return. 

Maybe next week, I should make him go to the doctor for his shot. 

Peak Hours

I slept OK but woke up exhausted.  I barely had the energy to get dressed and get Ron ready for work.  I drank 2 Dr Peppers, too, which is unusual for me, these days.

I'm still disappointed they got rid of the Diet Mountain Dew at the Walmart.  I really like that in the morning.

We went to work, it was pretty uneventful, for us.  The other vendor had a lot of excitement.  As you know, vending machines are generally lined up in rows, one next to the other.

The other vendor had their bottled vendor right next to the coffee vending machine.  The coffee vending machine has a water line running from the wall, to the back of the vending machine.  It is copper.  Someone got upset at something to do with the bottled vendor (I have used it many times with no problem), and shook it so hard it banged into the coffee vending machine and broke the water line.  Water everywhere.  They had to turn off the water.

So they had to have maintenance come in and fix it (I hope, because of that, they actually pursue the person who did this, and prosecute them - normally tampering with a vending machine at work just gets them a wink and a nod), which took both vending machines out of order for over a day.  A lot of stress for the other vendor.

Now, our sales were pretty dead, but we didn't have to deal with that, so I called it a win.  We didn't have to stay long, and we didn't.

We came home, I took my pills (morning, the Wellbutrin and a multivitamin), and took a nap.  And, yet again, I woke up with a ghastly headache.  I have to figure it is the antidepressant.

It's a catch-22.  I need the antidepressant, I have horrible depressions without it.  I get "down" now but nothing like my suicidal days past.  But I don't want the headache.

Frankly, I am terrified to ask for a new antidepressant.  What I have, works.  That is a big deal.  Huge.  Life and death, even.  So I will continue to eat my Excedrin and dread naps, now.

I took some Excedrin and drank some Gatorade.  That helped.  Once most of the edge was off I went through my stuff.

Some of it I can't talk about, but things like: I keep my security badge for work, in a lanyard with my bus pass..  So I took out the security pass, if I got robbed they would only get my bus pass and the $30 credit.  I also took some cash out of my fanny pack.

I got another Dr Pepper (good luck sleeping tonight!) and walked down to the bus stop.  By now, it was "peak hours".  Peak hours are basically morning and afternoon "rush hours" for the bus, when they run the buses more frequently.  It's a good thing.

So I didn't wait long at all.  I got to the grocery store and went to the tea section.  It was flour now.  I had to walk all over the store (I hate that) to find the tea section (ironically, where the flour used to be).  I took my time selecting about 5 different choices.  I like tea wrapped in foil, it keeps better.  I like a mix of strong, herbal, green, and decaf teas.  I took some time thinking about soap.

I would like to wash my hands with antibacterial soap before I give Ron his shot.  As I've said, friends of ours, the wife ended up with cellulitis due to poor technique (she admitted it) on her injections.  I don't want that for Ron.

But, the possum likes to eat antibacterial soap.  What to do?  I finally decided to buy another variety of the same brand, antibacterial soap.  I got "Gold" instead of "White".  Hopefully "Gold" will not be appealing to Possum.

Hopefully.

I had a good time.  I bought a box of cereal for dinner, and some chips, but ended up making the chips my dinner.  I came home pretty quick - again, peak hours, only waited less than 5 minutes.  That's the nice thing about living in the big city.

Some guy got off at my stop.  He looked a little iffy so I waited while he went on ahead.  I would much rather follow a suspicious person, than have them following me.  Because I walk up to my home.  I don't want a bad guy to know where I live, so I have a policy to hang back and wait for them to go first.

I stopped and checked the mail, found some books for Ron.  He will be happy.

I came in and dropped off my stuff, then I went back out to water the plants and fill up the big water bowl for the "critters".  It has been incredibly dry and hot, with no rain, for weeks.

I knew I had done the right thing when a lizard came down the trellis, drinking water off the leaves of my jasmine.  Poor thing looked pretty parched.   I was glad I did it, but felt bad I hadn't done it sooner. 

I came back in to find Ron, drinking in the kitchen.  He said he ate some leftovers earlier.  He took all his leftovers from the other night and mashed them into a zip lock bag.  Meat, potatoes, all of it.  It must have looked awful but of course that doesn't matter to him. 

At least he ate one good meal. 

I am just taking it easy for a while before I go to bed.  Tomorrow I give Ron his shot.  I will wait on taking my medication because it can cause shaking hands for me, and that's no good when I'm holding a sharp needle in my hand! 

I am also cutting back on the cats' dry food and giving them a can of wet, every night.  It seems to be working pretty well  Biscuit and Baby Girl are really gobbling the canned food when I put it down. 

And, I assume, the possum is eating any leftovers at night, when it wakes up. 

Just stay away from my soap! 

"Never argue with a drunk"

I took my shower and did my God Time.  I did a load of dark laundry and got them in the dryer. 

How to phrase this?  I always hate it when people want to tell me all about their bowels, but they do, I guess I just have that face.  Suffice to say something I ate, didn't like me, and I spent a lot of time frantically running to the bathroom this morning. 

That killed my plan to run to the grocery store and buy some tea.  I couldn't go if I felt like that. 

Instead, I took a nap.  I woke up with yet another headache.  Every time I take a nap, I swear I wake up with a pounding headache.  It's awful. 

I took some Excedrin.  Ron wanted to go out, but not without drinking first.  He had some vodka (I try not to keep track of how many shots) and we left.  He could barely get in the vehicle, but he did. 

We got to the restaurant and were seated.  We didn't have a whole lot of time.  I ordered my food and Ron ordered a steak.  Sigh.  I hate it when Ron orders steak because I have to cut it up for him. 

But he asked if one of the cooks could cut it up for him, instead.  That was a nice break for me.  I really hate sawing away at his well-done steak.  I prefer my meat medium, it's easier to cut, more tender and juicy.  But it's Ron's food, not mine. 

If he wants to eat a gray piece of leather that's his business.  At least I wouldn't be stuck cutting it up. 

I ordered my chicken strips (I was in the mood) and she got us our 2 diet cokes.  I took out our pills. 

I had two containers with screw on lids, one for me, one for Ron.  They held our medication.  I couldn't get them open.  I asked Ron for help - I guess it is a natural reflex for me, ask Ron to help with the "man" things. 

He couldn't do it, either.  He blew up at me, cursing me out, name calling, etc.  Said I "attacked" him by asking him to help.  "Setting me up to fail, so I wouldn't feel like a man".  No, you're not a man when you verbally abuse and curse your wife.  I couldn't care less about your hand strength.  I didn't say it. 

I started to respond but I remembered Al-anon "Never argue with a drunk".  So I didn't.  If I wasn't defending myself Ron couldn't attack me (much) so he petered out.  I did ask him if he wanted to be that guy cursing out his date and verbally abusing her in a restaurant.  He sputtered a few excuses but that stopped him pretty cold. 

Then the waitress came by and asked if everything was OK.  Oh, yes, absolutely fine. 

She brought the food.  The steak was perfectly cut into small bites, for Ron.  He can't do a big bite, due to the stroke.  Ron attacked his plate and I didn't have to prepare anything.  That was nice. 

I ate my chicken, only got a little sauce on my shirt, and resolved to make the best of my meal.  Ron calmed down and had a pretty good time.  He gave the waitress a tip for the cook who cut up his food.   Then we (I put some in, too) gave the waitress a good tip that she really appreciated, she came back and told us. 

We were supposed to get the same driver to go home, but they took it and gave it to another driver.  We had bought the first driver some food, and ended up giving it to the second driver.  I told Ron to just keep it, and eat it, but he said no, he wanted to give it to the "new" guy. 

The driver is an immigrant who loves hearing cat stories, so we told him about the cats.  He remembered Biscuit, probably because he is not used to people naming their pets after food. 

We had a quick ride home, I got Ron in the house.  He let Baby Girl into the garage.  She enjoys getting out there and exploring, even when it's hot.  I accidentally scared Biscuit, and he let me know I could make it up to him by feeding him again. 

I gave him a can of wet food.  He liked that pretty well.  If he won't finish it the possum will.  I haven't seen any evidence of the possum in a while, but I did see a squirrel in the front yard when I took out some garbage.  It was pretty tame, it let me get within a few feet. 

The squirrel was pretty cute - I have forgiven squirrels, as a species, for getting into my attic and chewing things up - and I felt bad for him, thinking he was probably thirsty.  I'm thinking I should put out some sort of water bowl for the animals so they have something to drink.  Possums, squirrels, etc. need to drink too and we seem to be headed for a drought. 

I'm not complaining too much about the high pressure system sitting on Houston, because it keeps the hurricanes and flooding away.  But I do feel bad for the wild animals. 

My grass is pretty wilted, but it always comes back.  I have Bermuda grass.  I have made a special point of watering my Wandering Jew and the Jasmine out front. 

So I finally feel better.  When we got home I tried the vice grips on my pill containers, couldn't get them open.  Ron asked to try (I wasn't going to ask him!) and managed to get the container of his pills open, by breaking the container.  I was able to save the pills (his folic acid, and the multi vitamins I give him).  We couldn't get mine open, not at all.  It only had 1/2 of one days medication, and I had plenty more, so I just threw the container away.  Then I got into my pill box (I keep all my medication in a plastic box) and took one evening's worth of medication.  I can feel it working, it calms me down, makes me a little groggy, plays hell with my typing. 

So I got that all done.  I plan to go back to working on clearing my counter so I have room for my tea and electric teakettle, that will be nice to have it all in one spot. 

I plan to go to the grocery store tomorrow, after work, after I take a nap.  Hopefully I will not wake up from the nap with a headache. 

I hate nightmares

I slept pretty well last night, no headache, even had Torbie in my bed for a while. 

I woke up early and wanted to go back to sleep.  Biscuit wasn't happy about that but he let me. 

I fell back asleep and had a nightmare I was trying to get a call from Ron's doctor, but he had such a heavy accent (asian) the receptionist hadn't understood what he wanted.  She told me all she got was that Ron needed to call his doctor. 

I went looking for Ron, in my dream, and I found him naked in bed with a nude woman.  I was most unhappy.  I was carrying a big medical book.  The woman ran off and I was yelling at Ron. 

He tried to tell me he wasn't doing anything, but he was naked, his man bits exposed.  She was totally naked (before she ran off).  I told her, "I'll deal with you, later."

I woke up, pissed.  I mean, furious.  What a lousy way to start a day. 

Ron's still asleep, and that's a good thing.  I went in there and got some clothes to wash because I need to do a load of darks to wash his new socks. 

Ugh. 

Does #6 want a war?

Yesterday morning Ron and I left at 3:30 in the morning.  We were quiet and so was the driver, but we did have to talk to her a little.  This happens every couple of weeks, on a Friday morning. 

Well, #6 used to go to church on Friday nights, but is not, anymore.  I don't know if they stopped having the services or what. 

Anyway, yesterday, after work, I came home like I normally do an took a couple hour nap in the early afternoon.  I went to bed around 7:30 PM because I had to get up early today. 

And he got out the weed-whacker and made a big production out of "edging" the side of our house, in the dark, at 9 PM at night, rubbing the tool against the foundation of my house, making horrible noises.  Stopping for 10-15 minutes, starting again, just the side of our house (which is the property line, much to my sorrow).  It was obvious he was trying to get "revenge" for this morning. 

So, this morning, when he probably hoped to sleep in, we got up at 7 AM like we always do on a Saturday (his truck was still parked in the driveway), dealt with the driver, she opened up the folding ramp to put away the wheelchair (noisy), etc.  And it is quiet tonight. 

Don't start something you can't finish.  Start something and I will have them come and pick us up at 4 AM every damned day we work. 

We always try to be quiet, unlike them, when they have their wild all night parties a dozen or so times a year. 

You can do your shopping on Tuesday

I woke up tired.  I kept hitting the snooze alarm, much to Biscuit's distress.  I got up and fed him. 

Last night the cats were begging for food, so I gave them a can (low carb) of wet cat food.  They (and the possum, most likely) ate everything.  I fed them their dry food for breakfast and got ready for work. 

We had a long ride to the warehouse, we had 2 pickups and a drop off.  We pickup an elderly man who didn't speak a word of English, and took him to dialysis.  If I have a medical condition and am living in a "foreign" country, I am going to learn the local language so I can communicate.  But that's just me.  I think it is foolish for people to come here, not speaking English, and expect everyone to learn their language.  #6's wife has done that - can't speak a work of English.  What if something awful happens?  She will have to go around to bystanders begging for someone who speaks Spanish.  If something happens to  one of her six kids and she comes over here, I won't understand what she's saying.  That should keep her up at night - people don't understand you.  It's very simple, you move to a country, you learn the local language.  If I moved to Mexico I would damned sure learn Spanish. 

I am sure I will get some flames for that.  Well, this is my blog, and I live in America.  I am still allowed to share my opinions. 

Then we picked up the cart lady, she travels with a big folding cart and likes to go shopping on weekends.  It is a source of constant surprise to me, seniors, and disabled, who don't work, only do their shopping on the weekend.  You don't work!  You can do your shopping on Tuesday!  Instead they bog down the service on weekends with all their shopping trips, and overload the vehicles with all the purchases they make. 

We finally got the the warehouse.  They had Ron's favorite, lemon cake.  I set him up with a slice and did the shopping.  We didn't get a whole lot, maybe 2/3 of what we normally buy, but we had arrived so late (due to the other passengers and trying to stuff the cart in the cab) I had to rush. 

I got everything and paid.  Jack came quickly and I found a "boyfriend" as I call "my" cart attendants, to help us out.  He did a great job. 

Off to work.  We got the truck unloaded and Jack left.  I brought everything inside. 

#1 the bottled vendor was empty.  We had to get that rascal filled. 
#2 I had to put away all the crap.  I had 3 carts and only room for 2. 

I got all Ron's stuff for the bottled vendor (over 10 cases) and gave that to him.  He got to work on that while I got to work on #2.  We got it all done (Ron did most of the bottled vendor, I only helped with the high up parts, and un-ringing the Cokes). 

We finished up and went home.  Our driver was in a really bad mood, not very talkative, but not evil or anything.  We got home fine. 

Ron got stuck in the garage, again, trying to get some vodka.  He literally could not get in the house.  That was sobering for me.  Ron really can't live on his own anymore. 

I took a nap, had a pretty good one.  Torbie slept with me for a while. 

By the way, I found Torbie playing with my shoes again, this morning.  She likes to pull them out, from under the couch.  She is pretty cute. 

I had a good nap and woke up with a headache.  That wasn't fun but I took some Excedrin and drank some Gatorade.  I am craving salt, so I think my sodium is low. 

I need to call my parents.  I also want to start organizing "my" counter.  It is a couple feet long, on "my" side of the kitchen.  It is pretty cluttered right now.  I want to make room for my tea, and my electric teakettle. 

I think I'm getting a little manic, I have an intense interest in tea right now. 

Not a bad Friday (except for that one ride)

It wasn't a bad day, but a long one. 

I didn't sleep well, had nightmares about zombies and giving Ron shots, and woke up at 1:30 AM.  I had planned to get up at a quarter to 2 so I just got up.  I took my shower and got ready for work. 

Our ride came at 3:45.  We got to ride with "that guy" from work.  He kept asking how he could get in our program.  Thought someone "just" had to be disabled.  We had to explain, several times, you have to be BLIND and I didn't say it but, they probably won't take you with your other problems.  They also need to have a dedicated, full-time helper, and his wife won't even give him a ride to work.  He is never going to make more money doing something else, he had better stick with his current job. 

It is very hard for people with disabilities to have gainful employment.  He was already at work before he had his health problems, whatever they are, and they kept him around.  If they do that you had better not leave because it is VERY hard to find another job when you are disabled.  Anything "gainful" at any rate.  Which is why they have disability checks. 

One reason I haven't gone running out after another job.  In Houston, driving is considered vital to employment.  "What, you don't drive?" 

The bus is pretty reliable transportation.  Only one time I had a problem, about 20 years ago, the bus broke down about a mile from work.  I found a payphone and called, explained the problem.  Asked them if they wanted me to walk the rest of the way.  They said no, we'll come and get you, and they did.  They saw the dead bus sitting by the side of the road and all the passengers milling around, so they knew I was telling the truth.  Only one time in 26 years of employment. 

I challenge car people to beat that record. 

We got to work.  The other guy took off and left us alone for the rest of the day. 

We went in and stocked.  It didn't need much.  And we were gone 3 days.  I did my work, helped Ron, got the soda delivery when it came.  The delivery man was nice and put my soda away for me. 

We finished up with work and went to the bank.  We took a cab from the bank to home.  Ron had a little trouble getting into the vehicle. 

I foresee the day when he will only be able to ride in wheelchair cabs.  I hope I'm wrong, but they do have some out there. 

We came home.  Exhausted, I took a nap.  I slept pretty well but woke up with a headache. 

Ron wanted the new hamburger from McDonald's.  It is available at our local Walmart, so we went there. 

It was a good trip until we picked up the Down's syndrome woman at the day care.  She was very combative, screaming and shouting, Ron kept yelling at her to shut up!  She would, for a minute, then start acting out again.  I always thought Down's syndrome people were sweet and cute.  This woman laid all that to rest.  She was horrible, she needed medication before she caused a wreck. 

Ron also wanted quarter crew socks, they come up just over the ankle, and are worn in the summer, usually.  I wear quarter-crews all year round.  No one can see them under my jeans.  I bought an electric teakettle, I found one for about the same price as the one on Amazon. 

I paid, got our food, and gave Ron his.  I was proud of him for asking for his vitamins, when I forgot.  It makes me feel like he does care about his health. 

Our ride home was on time, and a lot quieter than our ride to Walmart.  We got there and I unloaded, got Ron, put everything away.  I had bought a lot of dairy, I like to eat it in the summer.  My pills like yogurt and cottage cheese, it is cooling, easy to eat, pretty nutritious. 

I ate my chicken nuggets and took my pills.  I am getting ready to go to bed.  I will do laundry, I have a pretty huge mountain, either tomorrow night, or Sunday. 

I won't be going out on Tuesday, they say it will rain.  Besides, I need to give Ron his shot. 

Sales

Sales are pretty slow, but no apparent sabotage.  I was a little worried after what happened Monday.

I forgot to add

Doc, upon reading the radiology report on Ron's back, said that Ron will always experience severe pain due to the changes in his back.  He will always be in severe pain. 

I had suspected as much but it was still hard to hear. 

"Give me a pain pill and I will get off the alcohol"

So I took Ron to the doctor today.  Things were pretty uneventful at first.  He is 152 pounds, a good weight for his height.  Everything else was unremarkable. 

I had 3 reports with me, an ultrasound report, blood work, and his radiology review of his back.  The one that uses the words like "remarkable" and "severe".  I don't understand all of it but I got the gist, Ron's back is a mess. 

Since Ron was going in to ask for pain pills, it seemed prudent.  Doc came in, he was all about the anemia.  Ron is still anemic.  I showed him the blood work results, still anemic, almost half what it should be.  He was very concerned about that.  He thinks Ron needs a colonoscopy, and to get an upper GI "scope".  Oh, yeah, and he wasn't crazy about Ron being on blood thinners. 

Ron asked for pain meds and the doc basically said you have bigger problems than that.  Also, he's not a pain doc.  Ron needs a pain doc, and a back doc, apparently, to add to his folder of other doctors (hematologist, etc.).  All we will do is go to the doctor. 

Damn that man who ran over Ron.  I hope he sees what he did one day. 

So, no pain meds today.  Ron will have to see a pain med doctor for that.  Ron said he didn't want to be scoped.  Doc said basically, you are killing yourself with alcohol. 

Then he asked me to tell him how much Ron drinks.  Honestly.  I told him "A lot, he has blackouts, and falls."  The doctor nodded and said Ron needed to do some soul searching.  He basically said Ron is at a big health crisis and will need to make some decisions about the drinking and all. 

Ron kept saying "Give me a pain pill and I will get off the alcohol" but, like you, I doubt it.  I could easily see him "accidentally" killing himself by mixing an opioid and alcohol.  "I didn't think it would hurt me". 

Look at the Eliquis.  He was expressly told: Don't drink with this medication.  2 days later, he is drinking with the medication 'Well, it didn't kill me, so it must be OK."  Well, that's a hell of a way to find out. 

I am frustrated.  I am weary.  I am scared. 

So we finished the appointment, with a referral to the pain doc.  Primary Doc copied all the reports and put them in Ron's file.  I think it's important for every doctor to know what the other ones are doing. 

We left.  There is a Starbucks not far from the doctor's office.  I parked Ron in a safe place and walked over.  I decided to get an iced green tea.  It was very good.  I really want to get my electric teakettle so I can start making tea again.  Boiling water in the microwave is a big hassle and I don't have a teapot.  I want to get both, a stovetop teapot and an electric kettle. 

We went home, I tried to take a nap.  Man, I'm depressed just thinking about today.  But Torbie cuddled with me for a while which always makes things better.  She is so sweet. 

Later on, we got some dinner.  That went pretty well.  Most importantly, the medication did not disagree with my meal.  And crap, I forgot to give Ron his vitamins. 

Just did.  He is pretty good about taking them. 

But doc thinks that the drinking has led to inflamed veins in his esophagus, which are bleeding, causing the anemia.  Also, here's a fun fact, those veins (doc didn't say this but I know it) can rupture,  causing massive blood loss.  Let's not forget Ron is on blood thinners.  If one of those veins goes, Ron will most likely die a horrifying death, choking to death on his own blood, as I look on in horror.  Or I will find him like that one morning. 

Cheerful thought.  I mentioned it was very nice, drinking the iced green tea.  I will definitely do that again. 

I have to get up at 2 AM so that's it for now. 

Another day out

I did my God Time and took a shower, after I got up.  I had a moderate headache so I took something and laid down.  But #6's yard guys showed up, mowing.  Biscuit fled in terror under the bed. 

Poor Biscuit is terrified of yard guys.  It makes me wonder if someone menaced him with a weed whacker or something. 

I tried to go back to sleep but it wasn't happening.  So I got up.  Ron went in the kitchen, drinking.  Oh, so it was going to be that sort of day. 

I drank some Gatorade and got rid of my headache.  I decided to go out.  I put one of my reusable bags into my backpack and got my bus pass. 

I walked out to the bus stop, caught the bus.  The battery died in my MP3 player.  I have had it for over 10 years.  I really like it.  So I went to a gas station and spent $5 on 2 AAA batteries!  Ouch.  But they were holding my music hostage. 

Why don't I put it on my cell phone?  Well, it's already on the player so I figure I might as well keep it there.  I bought some snacks and drinks, left, waited on the next bus. 

See, the place I wanted to go was on the other side of Highway 249.  It is about 8-10 lanes wide at the grocery store.  They drive like maniacs, no way is it ever safe to cross.  I wanted to ride up to 1960, cross safely there, and ride the bus back down to the import grocery store.  It's a little bit of a hassle.  About halfway through my trip, I resolved to take a cab next time. 

I finally arrived at the import grocery store.  I was hoping they had a teapot, the kind you put on the stove.  They had a lot of the kind you pour the boiling water into, after you have used the teapot, but no teapots.  I was hoping for an electric teakettle as well.  Nope.  I did buy some tea, sauces, spices, medicinal herbs, and broth powder. 

I missed the bus as I was leaving the store.  I had to wait 20 minutes on the next bus.  Then I rode down to my transfer point and caught my home bus.  Once I got off at my stop I had to walk a while to get home.  At one point, I was waiting at a bus stop.  The bus bench was concrete.  It was so hot it literally burned my butt, I had to stand up or risk a burn.  I also got hot and sweaty but it was a good excursion. 

At least I didn't have to sit at home and watch Ron get drunk. 

We are taking him to the doctor tomorrow.  He has refused to take a bath.  So he will go to the doctor dirty.  He uses bath wipes to clean up and stay fresh, but they are no substitute for a bath.  I will do my best to explain. 

But, like a social worker told Ron once (in reference to someone else), if they don't want to do it, you can't make them.  It will make quite a picture with all the scabs on his right side from when he fell last week. 

I drank some Gatorade when I got home and put away some of my stuff.  I found Ron's Xray report on his back and put that in the back of the wheelchair along with his latest ultrasound and blood work.  Docs love that stuff.  Never had one tell me "Why did you bring this?  I didn't need it!".  Never. 

I set my alarm for 3 hours before the pickup so I will have time to do my stuff, bag up some candy, and hopefully get Ron to take a bath. 

It will be interesting.  I need to remember to encourage him to drink water because the last time he went in asking for pain relief they wanted to do a urine test for narcotics. 

Tired and weary

Well, last night went pretty well until Ron ran out of vodka.  Then he started cursing and went out in the garage.  He had to go up and down the wheelchair ramp to get the bottle of vodka. 

He knows I won't help him.  He was really struggling, though, at the top of the ramp and actually asked, nicely, for help.  So I gave him a little boost.  Then he began verbally abusing me, talking about my mother, etc. 

My first thought was, see what happens when I help him?  Verbal abuse.  I resolved not to "help" him again as he went on about my mother, etc. 

I told him my refusal to help him - told him AGAIN - has NOTHING to do with my mother, and EVERYTHING to do with his bad behavior when he drinks.  I don't help him drink because he is awful to me, and I'm not going to enable that.  Especially when he is awful to me, right after I "Helped" him. 

I told him I was going to bed, and walked off.  Previous to getting the vodka he had said he was lonely and wanted to talk.  "Talking" is one thing, verbal abuse is another. 

I laid in bed for about 10 minutes, probably while he was drinking, before he came back and tried to apologize.  I told him I forgave him, but I took him through the sequence of events: you asked for help.  I helped you.  You shouted at me.  I took him through it all very slowly, and he had to agree with me. 

I asked him if he would help me again in that case.  He said no, BUT,... and I said, no but.  You shouted at me when I broke my own rule, to help you.  I will not be doing that again.  If you want an easier way to drink you will need to figure that out on your own. 

Then I told him I wanted to sleep, and sent him away.  I slept OK and woke up around 7:30.  I found Ron in the hall, coming back from drinking in the kitchen. 

I remember one time he told me (he doesn't "remember" this, conveniently) that he would know he was an alcoholic if he ever drank before noon, that it was the sign of a die hard alcoholic, and he would never stoop that low.  No, he would just drink at 7 in the morning. 

He apologized again and I reminded him I would not be "helping" him any more.  He went his way, I went mine. 

Debating going out today.  On the one hand I am tired and just want to sleep.  On the other, tomorrow will be running around at the doctor with him (again!) and I want to have some fun. 

A mild headache, and my need for my antidepressant (which may compound the headache) make it more difficult.  I'll keep you posted. 

"Give me another one!"

I slept in this morning and did my God time, got online for a while, and waited for Ron to wake up.  I didn't want to give him the injection while he was sleeping. 

He finally woke up.  I told him it was shot day and he went to the kitchen and began drinking copiously.  He was scared. 

Hell, I was scared.  I know someone who screwed up giving herself shots, ended up with cellulitis, in the hospital for a week, $10K bill had to be paid by her and her husband. 

So, not looking forward to that. 

I got all my supplies and reread my directions.  I washed, then sanitized my hands with 90% rubbing alcohol and reached for the cotton balls.  BUT the alcohol was so strong it ate the print off the bag, it had a nice little printed design - the alcohol lifted the ink right off the plastic and onto my hands.  So I had to rewash and sanitize. 

Then I'm sitting there at my computer with the directions in front of me.  Inject air into the vial.  OK.  Draw out the solution.  All I was drawing out was air.  I prayed about it and finally figured out I had the needle in too far, it was in the air space, not the medication space.  The vial was a dark brown with red solution, it was very hard to see.  I pulled it back some and got a syringe full of bright red solution.  1 ml.  Good.  My left hand decided to start shaking about this time, even though I had not taken my antidepressant yet. 

I got out the air bubbles and made sure that was good to go.  I put the cap on the needle, and put it on my tray. 

I took my time disinfecting Ron, although it probably prolonged his agony.  Then I stuck in the needle at the proper, 45 degree, angle.  I pressed on the plunger, and solution came back out.  Not in far enough.  I gave it a push, it wouldn't budge.  I gave it a heftier shove, felt like I was stabbing him, and finally got the needle in to the proper depth. 

I pushed the plunger again.  And it went in fine.  I pulled out the needle. 

Ron asked me when I was going to do it.  He was getting nervous.  I told him we were done!  He was pretty drunk, said he wanted another shot.  All done. 

Boy, I was a wreck.  I took a nice hot shower (I hadn't, yet).  As a special treat to myself, decided not to shave my legs today and leave them for tomorrow. 

Ron called his primary care doc, was very honest.  Said he is drinking large amounts of vodka for "pain control" and he wants a medication instead.  They will see him Thursday.  I will remind him to drink a lot of water as they will probably want a urine sample to make sure he isn't already on narcotics. 

So, I get tomorrow off, for me.  Today was all about the shot, and the fact it's supposed to rain. 

I tried to put the used needle into the empty 2 liter bottle I had read was great to use, but it wouldn't fit.  I had to use another container with a screw on cap. 

I have a mild headache as well, I wouldn't want to go out in the heat and sun today.  I did order pizza, which should be here any minute. 

Ron fell asleep during my shower but was happy to hear I ordered him the bacon bbq chicken dish.  I took his crackers away so he will have an appetite when the food arrives. 

Then, after I eat, and take my pills, I'll get a nap. 

Ron was OK but the rest of the Monday wasn't.

Ron was fine today, just a little agitated at the end due to back pain. 

I slept horribly with the migraine, woke up exhausted and in pain.  Well crap.  Got up and took my shower anyway.  God love the Suave Clarifying shampoo, I didn't wash my hair yesterday (migraine) and it got my hair squeaky clean, fast.  Love that stuff. 

I got dressed and went to work.  I noticed a customer at work.  She has been difficult in the past, demanding, etc.  I just don't like people like that even though I know it is just a cry for attention.  Give them positive attention and they won't act out. 

But I'm not that evolved, yet.  I ignored her.  She was trying to buy something from the bottled vendor, and it wouldn't accept some of her change.  She started cursing and stomped over to me.  She showed me a handful of change - all foreign coins.  Complained they "wouldn't work" and she needed to "exchange" it. 

I told her it wasn't American currency, so it wouldn't work, and we didn't accept foreign currency.  She was basically asking me to give her a quarter so she could buy her drink.  We paid full price for our drinks, she can pay full price for hers.  It's only $1.25.  If she had come up and ASKED us to sell her a drink for a dollar, Ron very well might have done it.  He likes to be generous and give away a drink now and then.  But trying to jam the machine (and she knew better than to try to put them in the coin mech), and then DEMANDING we give her a quarter - no. 

She said she would get someone else to give her change.  She headed over to Ron.  I warned him she was trying to "change" foreign coins, which she had also tried to put into the bottled vendor.  Ron told her hell no, he wasn't "changing" her money, and asked her to stop putting foreign coins into the bottled vendor.  She said she would do what she wanted to, it escalated. 

Ron told her he didn't want her business anymore, and to shop with the other guy.  She yelled back at him.  I suspect she may try to sabotage the machine, I hope I'm wrong, but I'm going to keep a close eye on it for a while. 

Someone else stepped in and gave her a quarter.  She shut up and bought her drink, then stomped off to a table and sat there for an hour.  Who hangs out at work for an hour after they clock out, watching TV?  Someone without a life. 

Most people tear out of there as soon as they can, in fact I joke that's what put Ron in the wheelchair "He got between an employee and the door". 

I did my stocking, got my delivery, and helped Ron.  Ron has gotten used to me helping him, I think he would have a hard time filling the machines by himself. 

One of the employees said I was "looking sexy" today.  I was wearing a baggy tshirt and capris.  OK.  Maybe it's 'cause my hair was down?  I don't know.  I'm not a man, I don't know what all drives "sexy". 

I said thank you, and changed the subject. 

We finished up and left, went to Walmart.  They had the syringes but they would have to substitute a 27 for the other size.  That will be a little smaller and easier for Ron.  It took them a while to put it together. 

They gave us 10, for $4.  If needed I can apparently buy more online, but the "prescription" for the needles came with a couple of "refills". 

I went to buy some Gatorade, and they were pretty much sold out.  I bought 2 bottles and some powder.  I can make my own with the powder.  I also bought some drink mix. 

Ron wanted ranch chicken so I bought him a half pound from the deli.  I also got some bottled water, as we were running low. 

Then we went home.  Picking up the bottled water aggravated my headache again, so I laid down for a while.  Torbie joined me, she was adorable.  She likes to curl up near my head, and I love it. 

Unfortunately, I woke up with an even worse headache.  It's like a spider of pain coming from the base of my skull.  I took some Excedrin and drank some of my gatorade powder.  It helped for a little while, then I drank some more. 

I need to eat so I can take my pills.  I couldn't, yesterday, I was too queasy.  I laid in bed with a big bucket nearby in case I had to get sick. 

I have to eat tonight, and take my pills.  That's not optional.  I don't know what I'll eat, probably a can of condensed veggie soup.  I can do that with my pills and it should stay down. 

It's supposed to rain tomorrow.  I had planned to go out yesterday, probably can't tomorrow, not sure what I will do. 

I'm tired. 

6 hours too many

Woke up with a migraine.  Took Excedrin and back to bed, much to Biscuit's outrage. 

I got up after a while to feed them, found puke in the hall (some sort of hairball, not Ron's).  Cleaned it up with disinfecting wipes. 

Fed Biscuit, who almost knocked over the food storage container.  He and Torbie gobbled out of the big bowl together, leaving poor Baby Girl wailing at me for breakfast.  She made a point of "looking" in an empty cat food bowl on the table next to the food container.  I gave her a little extra in her own bowl.  She was happy. 

After Baby Girl finished eating, she ran and lay down with Ron.  Torbie lay down next to her litter box.  Maybe she is having digestive issues.  I didn't see Biscuit anywhere when I went back to bed. 

My head is still killing me but I got up to get a drink.  Ugh.  I hope this thing passes quickly.  6 hours is 6 hours too many. 

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 some cough syrup (actually a guiafenesen pill), and couldn't find him in his room.  He was in the kitchen.  I hate it when he goes in the kitchen because he only goes there to drink. 

Sure enough, he was drinking.  He was apparently choking every time he took a drink.  I told him he woke me up and asked him to please let me sleep.  His response was unprintable, or typable as the case may be.  I went back to bed, he finished eventually, I went to sleep. 

But, not surprisingly, I woke up exhausted.  I got ready for work and we left for the warehouse.  I reminded him he fell out when the wheelchair hit the ramp, yesterday, and to get a good grip.  I suggested we use the seatbelt provided with the wheelchair.  He scoffed at me and told me he would be fine. 

We got to the vehicle OK.  Got Ron loaded.  Off we went. 

I bought our supplies and we waited (not long) for Jack.  When he arrived I gave him a cold Gatorade and a big cup of ice with a straw.  I would be very foolish NOT to take care of the only man who is helping us, in this heat.  It has been one of those heat index makes it feel over 100 degrees days.  But he really got excited about the cold bottle of water I brought him when I came out with the carts. 

We got the carts loaded and into the building.  He can get into the foyer but no further.  I take it from there.  I got everything into the building, moved it all onto two carts, stocked, helped Ron, and put everything away.  I also serviced the new bill changer. 

We finished up and left, and came home.  I was pretty tired so I laid down for a nap.  I woke up before the alarm went off, with a headache.  I took something and tried to lie down again.  No joy.  Lying down, I kept focusing on my headache. 

So I got up.  Ron and I eventually went out to dinner and got some shrimp.  It wasn't as good as I expected it to be.  It was alright, though, and, most importantly, it agreed with my medication.   It wasn't very expensive, either. 

On a couple of occasions I have had my dinner and my medication fight it out, and it was pretty ugly.  Thank God I did not experience that tonight. 

Ron took his vitamins (the oral ones, a multi with iron and the folic acid) with dinner.  Our ride home was late so Ron got a little cranky. 

Our ride finally arrived and off we went, it was a straight trip.  Every driver in the fleet (about 500) seems to know about our possum.  They all ask me about it every time I ride. 

Last night possum got up on the bookcase and knocked over my basket of squares.  The squares are a long story. 

Back when I first started on lithium, I was kind of vacant for a while.  I would just stare at random things for minutes on end, spaced out.  Square things, in particular, like the tiles in the bathroom at work, were fascinating.  I told Ron about it. 

Ron got the scissors and stole a cardboard box out of the garbage, then went in his room.  One day, he presented me with a basket full of cardboard squares he had cut out by hand.  They were all irregularly shaped but clearly a square shape. 

I treasure that basket and it's contents.  They're my squares, a symbol of Ron's acceptance of my less-than-perfect-medicated-self.  I was upset they fell.  I only "lost" a couple, which I retrieved and placed back in the basket.  I didn't tell the drivers about any of this, though. 

We got home and I got Ron in the house, then checked the mail.  Oh, goody, more medical bills!  I put it in the pile. 

I went back in the house, poked around on the computer a little bit, and then called Mom and Dad.  They put their visitor on the phone.  That was awkward.  One, I don't do well talking to kids and 2.  What do you say to your abuser's kid?  Awk-ward!  Then they put the whole call on speaker, like they normally do. 

I wasn't sure what to think if the visitor was listening in on my tale of a drunken Ron falling out of his wheelchair and all, but figured it was probably not as bad as what he's seen at home.  Who knows, it might make him feel better, knowing other people have serious problems, too.  I didn't hear him talking so maybe they sent him out of the room but safe to say I had NO expectation of privacy. 

I always expect that everything I tell them will be rebroadcast, so I don't say anything I wouldn't want to the world to know.  And I proceeded that way tonight. 

Dad told me he had to give himself shots in the belly before a procedure a while back, and it was not a big deal.  Good to know.  From what I hear, from people who've done it, it's not that big a deal. 

But I have a problem with shaking hands.  I mean, with my hands shaking.  Could that be a problem?  I know God is big enough to overcome that.  But does He want me giving Ron shots?  I tease Ron a little about "getting him with a big needle" but I hope Ron knows I am kidding, I would do everything possible to make it painless.  We'll see.  Worst case I waste a needle, a little b-12, and Ron has to go to the doctor's office for his shots. 

My adoptive mother said she knows many seniors who have to have a b-12 shot.  So it's pretty common in seniors to begin with, then you add the drinking - costs the body a lot of b-vitamins, and then his diet is terrible.  Not surprising he ended up anemic. 

It's a good thing he had the clots when he did, so he could get the anemia diagnosed and corrected.  His heart was already showing signs of strain from lack of oxygen, per the doctors.  He could have had kidney failure.  All sorts of bad things averted. 

It is like God to use something like blood clots to get anemia diagnosed.  Hopefully I can get it treated pretty easily. 

I am hoping giving a shot becomes "no big deal" just like checking his blood sugar.  Not that I do, very often, it is always excellent. 

We have tomorrow off.  I may go out again, not sure. 

"I've fallen and I can't get up"

Last night/this morning was pretty standard.  Chuck called and said he was sick and could not help. 

Ron arranged for paratransit to get us.  He went in the kitchen. 

The next thing I know, the ride is there.  I got ready to push Ron out of the kitchen and down the ramp you see in the photo.  And Ron took a header and went SPLAT right at the bottom of the ramp.  His face is scraped.  His knee is scraped.  Happily, not bleeding much.  I worry with him on blood thinners, you know. 

I opened the garage door because the driver was banging on our front door like an ex-boyfriend who was owed money, trying to rush us.  I wanted him to see the cause of the delay. 

He gaped at the spectacle you see, Ron on the ground, bleeding, flopping around.  I kept trying to verbally direct Ron into the wheelchair.  I wasn't wrecking my back over this.  The driver left, eventually, he kept asking if Ron needed an ambulance. 

Frankly, I wasn't going to call an ambulance.  I figured if I just let him sober up, like I did last time, he would be fine getting into the wheelchair.  I worried, though, because the garage is hot and I didn't want him getting heatstroke.  He also hates spiderwebs, of which we have a lot.  I figure the spiders eat bugs so I'm not in a rush to eliminate them. 

Ron kept bellowing I had to open the garage door again.  I told him someone would see him and call an ambulance, did he want people meddling in his life?  His response was along the lines of [expletive] open the [expletive] door you [expletive verb] [expletive].  So I opened it. 

I debated if I should stay with him (he was very verbally abusive) or just leave him there to be found by a passerby.  I figured I would take a cab to work and put the garage door down.  No one would see him and he would have time to sober up. 

About that time I heard him calling 911, explaining he had fallen.  He had a hard time giving our address but gave her the pertinent information. 

Great.  An ambulance.  I cancelled my cab ride and waited for the ambulance.  It took about 10 minutes, but it was just an "I've fallen and I can't get up" call.  They came. 

Three men got out.  They were all ruggedly handsome.  Well, maybe this won't be so bad.  They walked over to Ron, got a look at his situation, and had him back in the wheelchair quickly.  Since Ron has shown a tendency to fall out of the wheelchair while drunk, I used the wheelchair's seatbelt (never before used) to secure him as they nodded in approval.  I yelled at Ron to lean back, as he was tipping forward again, and gave him a push back in the wheelchair. 

I helped them fill out the paperwork and signed he was not going to the hospital.  They were very kind and professional.  I liked them.  They filled out the paperwork, mainly my name and his, our relationship, and off to the idling black ambulance. 

Black ambulances have freaked me out in the past, but if they contain such tasty paramedics I might change my mind!  Not lusting, but I'm not blind either. 

They idled out front for a while, I took them some bottled water.  They thanked me and left. 

A while later, my cab came.  It was a driver we know.  He ran me to work so I could mail the sales tax form.  It is due today and must be postmarked with today's date.  I didn't have stamps at home so I had to get them out of the vending machine.  The cab driver waited while I took care of business and took me home. 

Ron sent me a bunch of abusive, filthy, text messages calling me pretty much every name in the book. "Bitch" featured prominently. 

Basically he blames me for today's debacle.  I wasn't the one drinking.  I didn't fall out of the wheelchair.  I only tried to help him.  When he was back in the wheelchair, I took him to bed and unfastened the seatbelt.  I don't see how that makes me the wrongdoer in any way.  I ignored the nasty messages, but answered the legitimate questions like "How are you going to pay the sales tax?"  "Cab". 

So I'm home again.  Ron is STILL in a nasty, abusive, mood.  Like I said, I don't see how he can make it my fault but he is sure trying. 

I am going to eat some ice cream and take my meds early.  God knows I need all the mood stabilization I can get. 

They sent the creepy black ambulance

But I was happy to see it.

Ambulance came

I got him back to bed.  He is cursing me out and being ugly.  At least he didn't really bleed.

Not a good day

Irritability

Oh, I forgot something important. 

Last night I was doing research into vitamin deficiencies, mainly b-12 and folate, since that's what Ron has.  Not surprised in the least over that. 

Anyway, a lot of the symptoms sounded familiar.  But one really stuck out: irritability. 

Well.  Ron has been fairly irritable recently.  What if some of that is medical?  Even better, what if it improves with supplementation? 

That would be excellent. 

Yes I finally did a day out, mostly for myself

So, how did my Day Out go? 

Pretty good.  I slept in until 8:30, got on the computer for a while, took a shower, got dressed, and went through my stuff.  I removed my Federal ID badge from my lanyard, and most of my cash from my wallet.  I put on a pair of cheap sneakers (in a bad neighborhood, you are always judged by your sneakers), and left. 

I went out to the bus stop and caught it pretty quickly.  I went to the drugstore suggested yesterday by the pharmacy tech at Walmart.  I went in and asked for the needles.  I am clean and presentable.  They said no. 

No sales without a prescription.  The internet needs to catch up with this information.  Ugh.  I bought some drinks, and a bag of chips, and left in disgust. 

I didn't call first because I wanted them to tell me in person.  I don't look like a junkie, but a voice on the phone could be anyone. 

I missed my bus, I actually saw it drive by as I was on the wrong side of a very busy street with traffic going.  I had to watch it drive away. 

But at least I knew I had time before the next ride.  I called my aunt.  I called Ron.  Ron started calling his doctor.  I drank some soda.  And there's my ride. 

I rode to the Vietnamese grocery store and went inside.  I was wearing a backpack, and they had a big sign "No backpacks".  I went in anyway, figuring they would confront me if they had a problem, but they did not. 

Like I said, I look pretty harmless, especially as I age.  I had fun shopping around.  I didn't find a teakettle, or much bouillon, but I found other interesting things.  I explored the store and got tea, cookies, seaweed "noodles", and some pate ($1.38) to bait the possum trap.  I tried to keep an eye to size, I didn't want a lot of stuff, just an assortment of stuff I could use or play with if I get manic. 

I don't really get manic anymore. 

I finished up, paid, and called a cab.  It was very hot, heat advisory weather, but I had cold drinks and had taken a salt tablet today.  It was also very bright, which may have been a factor in my later headache. 

The cab came pretty quick.  The driver was a black lady on a speakerphone with her adult son.  They were planning his birthday party - she agreed to bring fried chicken.  He was musing about what sort of cake he would like.  They had a very relaxed and natural conversation. 

I couldn't help but compare.  I don't think she tells him he can only call at a certain time, once a week, unless he is having an emergency.  I was happy for them and not bitter, just sad for myself, happy for them. 

I gave her a pretty good tip and hauled my huge bag of stuff (you saw it) into the house.  Baby Girl immediately went after it, sniffing everything. 

Going into the grocery, I immediately noticed the smell of exotic spices.  So I figured Baby Girl had plenty of interesting smells of her own.  I put away about half of the stuff. 

Ron had worked on sales tax all day, now he was drinking.  I put stuff away around him and he went back to bed.  I took a nap and woke up with a headache, had to take my fake Excedrin. 

I am waiting for it to kick in fully and then I will fill out the sales tax form.  We have to go in tomorrow to mail it, and then we're done for the day.  Saturday we do our supply run, go in, and stock. 

I need to eat, figure out something interesting to consume, and clean out the litter boxes after that.  A good wash of my hands after that and I may get into some of those cookies I bought today.  One of them looks like a Fig Newton, but with way more filling, and pineapple, at that. 

Sounds yummy. 

Having fun

Dude, it's my brain

I had a hard time falling asleep last night, and a hard time getting up this morning. 

I did the bare minimum to prepare myself and went to work.  Ron was in a nasty mood and kept running me down.  As I said in my other post, I was looking forward to sticking him with that needle. 

We did everything we needed, decided we didn't need a soda delivery Friday (so I get to sleep in!), and did our inventory for our Saturday shopping.  We left and went to Walmart. 

Walmart had called and told us they had his prescription.  Now, I have, as a rule, very few problems with the Walmart pharmacy. 

One time they gave me Harriet, same last name, same birthday month and day's, diabetes medication.  Well, they tried.  I always check my meds.  Dude, it's my BRAIN.  You bet I check.  I check Ron's stuff too because he is blind and has some allergies. 

So we got there, I pushed Ron in the wheelchair back to the pharmacy.  I am wearing my Federal ID and a short sleeved shirt.  You can easily see my arms, and Ron's.  This is important. 

They tell us the total and Ron pulls out a wad of $5's.  We pay for the injectable, and the folic acid tablets.  They hand me a baggie full of vials. 

Where are the needles?  I am going to need some needles to inject these rascals.  I ask what needle I need to inject.  They tell me, a 22 or a 25 gauge needle.  Great, I tell them, let's get them. 

But I can't.  Because the doctor didn't write a note for them. 

They can see I am a Federal Contractor.  They can see my arms, I have no track marks, just some small scars in my elbow from donating blood.  They can see Ron also has clean, intact, arms.  But they won't sell us the needles even though they just sold us the injectables. Obviously, the doctor wants us to have a needle.  Nope, they won't do it. 

They tell me to go to another pharmacy.  I tell them that's great, if I had a car and could drive, but I can't.  What do I do?  Have the doctor call in the needles?  Yes. 

So Ron gets on that while I go and do some personal shopping.  I bought a box to put the stuff into, a big spray bottle of Lysol (apparently a sterile surface is important for injections), some drinks, etc.  I also buy some salad mix and a 2 pound block of cheddar cheese.  I pay. 

I do my deposit for my health extortion, I mean, insurance.  That is over half my pay right there.  But they did knock my pills down to $100 for all of them, for 3 months.  That's not bad.  Used to be almost $300.  At least I feel like I'm getting some benefit. 

We got home.  I was tired and took a nap.  I got up and took a shower, then I got dressed.  We went out to the burger place. 

I gave Ron his multivitamin (just a basic over the counter one) and he dropped it.  He was very apologetic but I just gave him another one, and told the waitress when she came by.  A vitamin wouldn't hurt a baby that ate it (a lot of parents at the restaurant let their children run around unattended) but this one has iron in it.  She said she could get it (I didn't see it). 

We had a pretty good meal.  Ron was in a pleasant mood and not so abrasive.  I told him I plan to take tomorrow off and he wants me to have fun.  He gave me plenty of cab fare.  He was also happy I couldn't give him the shot today.  I think he is worried it will hurt a lot. 

Even if I could make it hurt, I would not.  Even if he had just been awful to me.  I try to treat everyone as though they are Jesus.  I often fail, but I try.  I would want Jesus to have an easy, pain-free, shot. 

We had a good meal and went outside to wait on our ride.  I was looking up how to give injections, on my cell phone.  I want to have a solid understanding of the process before I actually go after Ron.  All of a sudden, the store manager came over and asked if we were waiting on a Metrolift.  I said yes, we were.  He pointed at one sitting right behind us.  The driver was "trying to find us" and failing to see the obvious man in the wheelchair right in front of him! 

I had very little faith in him after that, but we still rode home with him.  He got us home OK. 

I checked the mail and got Ron in the house (not in that order), and helped him put his leftovers in the fridge.  Now I'm done for the day. 

I am going to bed early and sleeping in if I want, tomorrow.  I will call the pharmacy before I go there, tomorrow.  No sense in making a blank trip. 

I will also take my Federal ID (we just renewed our badges at work) out of my lanyard tomorrow and take some other things out of my backpack and fanny pack before I leave tomorrow.  No sense tempting fate. 

Someone already tried to rob me once when I did a day out.  If it happens again I want to minimize the damage. 

Tough morning

Ron has been running me down all morning.  Looking forward to sticking him with that needle.

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 myself.  Last night Torbie got in bed with me, cuddles, loving, very sweet.  What a great cat.  Then I went to sleep, woke up tired. 

I took my shower.  Ron fought me on his bath so he didn't get one.  If he wants to go to the doctor dirty that is his business.  I ate and took my antidepressant, even though, the last time I did, I got a migraine.  I helped Ron get dressed (he at least let me put clean clothes on him, freshened up a little, used deodorant), and we left. 

We had to drop another client off first, at an adult day care facility.  He was slow and could not be left alone, so the driver had to stay with him until the staff arrived to open the place.  I have mixed opinions about adult day care.  1.  They cost the taxpayers a lot of money (the group homes do, too), but 2.  I know, more than anyone, how much we caregivers need a break sometimes.  From what I have seen of both (group homes, and adult day programs), many times the caregivers are, well, not very caring.  Just what I've seen. 

There's only one place I'd send Ron, and it isn't far from the house. 

Anyway, we got him settled and off to the doctor.  We made our copay and went into the room.  Nurse Practitioner came in, gave me the results of all the testing (papers, and orally).  Ron is very deficient in B-12 and Folic acid.  Not surprising because he does not eat well, and takes no vitamins (he has started, though).  So he will need b-12 shots, which she says I can give him.  If I don't want to give them we can come in and do it that way.  More on that later. 

I have no problem giving him shots.  I check his blood sugar now and then, and have no problem doing that.  That is a lot more steps than giving someone a shot and involves blood.  If I can do that, I can give Ron a shot.  I'm not worried about that. 

She said Ron will need Folic Acid supplements, and probably will for the rest of his life, as he won't eat greens.  Ron was fine with that. 

He had some fat infiltration into his liver, which can/will lead to liver damage, but for now his liver is OK.  Other organs are fine (they didn't get a good view of his pancreas).  He does not have a factor 7 clotting disorder.  We didn't really discuss the clotting thing today, just the anemia.   His kidneys are making the right hormone to encourage his bone marrow to produce more blood cells. 

So he is basically fine, and will be even better once he gets those vitamins into him.  I will continue giving him the cheap multivitamin with iron (his iron was a little low but still in normal range), and the prescription stuff, while encouraging him to eat better, and he will be fine. 

That was all good.  We took a cab home. 

Ron decided to make some phone calls, and called a home care place.  I specifically asked him not to provide any personal information, he agreed.  He wanted a quote on how much it would cost to have someone come out and give him a shot, like they were a plumber. 

He did not understand they want to set up the billing, set up the account, have the social worker come out and determine what you need, try to soak you for as many services as possible, etc.  I kept telling him to hang up as he gave his:
Birthdate
Fact he had Medicare. 
Did not give Medicare number even though they asked for it. 
Home address
And phone number.  I was pretty upset.  I don't want a bunch of meddling social workers poking into our lives.  Ron and I had an argument when he hung up. 

He told me he saw me giving him a shot as this dreadful, terrible, thing, and he was trying to "save" me.  I didn't tell him, when he acts like that it would be a pleasure to jab him with something sharp!  I finally dropped it after he agreed to leave the subject alone, I was more than willing to give him shots (and it's not even that many, just once a week for a month and then once a month from then on). 

I took a nap.  Torbie joined me, got on me, purring, petting, etc.  She slept next to my head, my favorite! 

I woke up with a nasty headache.  Probably the antidepressant.  I would hate it, but it does work VERY well.  I haven't had a really bad depression in a very long time, and I can't remember the last time I was suicidal. 

I took some Excedrin.  Ron got up, said his back was killing him.  He had, by my count, four shots of vodka before he felt willing to leave the house. 

Vodka, of course, being the only thing that helps with the pain, he says, but he still seemed to be in a lot of pain.  He just didn't care as much.  Our ride came, the same guy we had to go to the doctor.  Ron could barely get into the vehicle, I thought he would have to ride in the back. 

We got to Denny's (Ron's idea, he planned it without telling me, last night).  The waiter asked what was wrong with Ron, I told him, "He's drunk".  Ron agreed.  He ate something, sobered up a little but not much.  I gave him his vitamin, he took it. 

I got my food, ate, and took my pills.  At one point, a couple months ago, Ron tried to equate his drinking with my medication.  That he "needed" the alcohol as much as I needed my medication.  I shot that down pretty fast, telling him I have a prescription for my stuff and can only get it from a pharmacy. 

My happiness at his good prognosis was pretty squashed by seeing him drunk like that.  It was just pathetic.  I don't even get angry any more, just resigned and sad.  He is enslaved. 

He kept talking about how, yes, I can't believe I'm going to share this - he kept saying "If [the doctor] tells me to stop drinking I'll kill myself".  I know he was being dramatic but it really illustrated the depth of his enslavement to this stuff. 

I thank God every day I never got a taste for alcohol or anything addictive.  I know I was protected, and I appreciate it with every breath.  I don't want to be that person. 

When Ron was admitted to the hospital, I kept kicking myself I didn't have my medication with me.  I really needed it to help keep things balanced, but that is a lot different from getting a "fix".  Taking my medication comes with NO high, just better thinking, fatigue, dry mouth, and other side effects. 

So now, when I take Ron to the doc I will bring my evening medication with me, in my little organizer.  I neglected to do that today, and I should have.  I will do better. 

Ron says if he can get some sort of pain pill, even a narcotic (terrible idea, that), he will stop drinking.  He will have to do that, if he wants to take pain pills.  I believe the pain pills will offer a better solution for his back, though. 

I don't believe his back can be "fixed".  He has severe arthritis, disc disease, basically there is nothing right going on in his back.  But he can still walk a little, if he stays bent over, and can get in and out of vehicles/chairs OK.  He has toilet control.  He does not want any more surgery and I agree.  The last surgery really screwed him up long term and did not help at all.  Cost us thousands of dollars.  Did I mention it didn't work?

So I had dinner with my very drunken husband.  I helped him clean up after he ate and put away his clothing protector.  Our ride came to go home. 

Ron had been very obnoxious all day, yelling at God aloud and telling truly filthy jokes.  He was pretty subdued for the ride home, kind of droopy.  We got home OK and he lost his shoe getting out of the vehicle.  I retrieved it for him and got him in the house.  Thankfully he just went back to his room and not into the kitchen to drink, like he normally does when he gets home. 

He will probably be "out" for hours now.  I am finishing up that load of laundry and then hanging it up, I will go to bed after that.  I'm pretty wiped out. 

I think I will bag up some candy for tomorrow so I can have that off my plate.  I hate to go out without candy for my drivers, and considering one of them was shot this week I want to give them a little spiritual food with the tracts I include, with the candy. 

Happily the bad guy who shot the driver, has been caught.  The driver is expected to make a full recovery, so that's great.  I feel bad that it happened to him, though. 

Now time to proof this rascal before I post it.  You'd be surprised, the errors I find, sometimes. 

Got our diagnosis

Very low b12 and folic acid.  Pills and shots in his future.  I told him to eat better.

Sometimes I have to pick my battles

So, migraine yesterday.  I slept horribly.  I finally got up around midnight and took some Excedrin, got on the computer for a while, and went back to bed.  I had Torbie there with me for a while, which was nice. 

I got a couple hours sleep and had to get up.  Ron shouted at me over the shoe on the floor, even though I was begging him to stop due to my headache.  He kept saying I didn't understand, he was in pain.  I told him I had been in pain all night but had not shouted at him once. 

He was in a bad mood most of the day.  I think it really angers him when I get sick, not because he feels bad for me, but because it reminds him he is dependent on me, and vulnerable without me.  That makes him angry and he lashes out at me. 

That is not OK, by the way. 

So he was surly and moody all day.  We went to work, did it all, went to the bank.  I got paid, although most of it goes to health insurance. 

We came home and I took a nap.  I slept pretty well but not long enough. 

We got up and went to Walmart.  The ride was very late.  We kept calling, they kept saying the driver was half a mile away, for half an hour, half a mile away. 

I figure she must have been pulled over in the subdivision somewhere, gossiping on her phone, because the drivers are not allowed to talk on their cell phones when they have a client in the vehicle.  She finally showed up, tried to pull in the driveway even though we had it blocked. 

We got in, Ron was Not Happy.  Neither was I, we had been waiting outside for over half an hour.  In 97 degree weather, because, after all, the driver was "just around the corner". 

The driver flinched when I made a sarcastic comment about her pulled over, talking on her phone.  Then she acted all shocked that Ron had called in a complaint on a driver who was late, and then stood around outside the vehicle, talking on her Bluetooth, some sort of relationship drama.  So I am betting she was pulled over, talking on the phone, for the half hour. 

And getting paid for it! 

We finally got to Walmart, very late.  It is a good thing Ron had planned to take a cab home anyway.  I did my shopping and picked up the couple things he said he wanted.  I had to get help from another customer, to get some washer cleaning tablets off a top shelf.  I wanted that brand because 1.  they work and 2.  They are what the manufacturer suggested I use. 

I got everything, including the litter.  Ron jumped the gun on calling the cab and I didn't have time to get his medication, or do my deposit.   So we have to go back because he was impatient. 

But he needs his medication so we have to go back.  We see his hematologist tomorrow, they may prescribe something for him.  If they do we will have to go to Walmart anyway. 

If we go tomorrow I won't need anything because I got all my "urgent" stuff today.  But I might get some salad greens, I should have today, but didn't. 

Planning to go to bed early so I can get some real sleep.  Right now Ron is sitting in the kitchen drinking so I can't make my lemonade.  He can get surly when I ask him to move out of the kitchen. 

I don't want to be that person who walks on eggshells, but a lot of times I find myself walking away from potential conflict.  For instance, his bath. 

He is supposed to see his doctor tomorrow, so he should take a bath and make himself presentable.  He has fought me on it all day.  I will try again tomorrow, but if he refuses I will say fine and take him to the doctor "dirty" and explain "I tried to get him to take a bath". 

Sometimes I have to pick my battles. 

It's a Monday

Head was OK for work, but headache's back just in time for Walmart.  Too late to cancel.

"I didn't yell at you once"

Finally got a little sleep, woke up, very tired, tentative feeling, like my headache could come back every second. 

Ron starts shouting at me because a shoe is sticking out from under the couch and it's impeding him getting his vodka, so he sees it.  I told him I am just coming off a migraine, please don't shout. 

He shouts he doesn't care and rants some more, I leave the room.  Then when I come back (I wanted to put Excedrin in my fanny pack in case the migraine comes back), he wants to justify what he did. 

I told him the only thing I believe he said was "I don't care".  He told me he was hurting and that's why he yelled at me. 

"Funny" I told him "I was hurting all night and I didn't yell at you once." 

Sick of the migraine

It's 12 AM and I know where my migraine is. 

Ron is in the kitchen, drinking.  I can't sleep.  Baby Girl is begging for treats, so Torbie will most likely be exiting my bed shortly. 

And tomorrow, today, rather, is going to be a really busy day.  I need to be at the top of my game, not prostrate and moaning. 

The excedrin helps but it did wake me up. 

Hopefully I can get back to sleep for a couple of hours.

My migraines seem to be strongly genetic.  I am very glad I never had kids, to pass this down. 

No fun today

Got a bad headache after I took my antidepressant, had to lie down. 

No fun today, for me. 

My kitchen is a place for vodka

I had post traumatic nightmares last night, and woke up to see pictures of my abuser all over my news feed.  I understand he is "visiting" but I wish they could have blocked him.  I want to see pictures of my Dad so I can't block them, but I prepared myself for it when I logged on. 

I meant to talk about something I saw last night at dinner.  It reminded me of something out of "My 600 pound life".  Near us, at dinner, was a table with two obese adults and a normal weighted child.  The child had eaten the slider meal, eaten one small hamburger and left 2 uneaten.  The man weighed about 500 pounds, he ate everything on his plate and investigated his wife's plate, but she ate everything too. 

So he stats looking at his daughters food, grabs it, and eats it.  No wonder the little girl is so skinny, if her father is eating all her food!  In my family, your leftovers were your leftovers.  No one else ate them.  I can understand taking a bite, but eating the entire 2/3rds of her meal? 

I'm sitting there, shoveling salad in my face, because, as I said, we had a short stay at the restaurant and it always takes forever to eat salad, and my burger was sitting there getting cold. 

But I need to be eating salad or I'm not going to stay healthy.   So I sat there eating my salad, watching the huge man eat his daughter's hamburgers, while my own hamburger got cold sitting off to the side. 

And Ron is up, and drinking in the kitchen.  My kitchen is not a place for food, it is a place for vodka.  He has a "liquor cabinet" and sits between the sink and the fridge, drinking.  I won't describe the whole drinking ritual, but it involves ice, water, and vodka.   Sitting there in front of the sink for long periods of time, drinking. 

I am pretty sure he is at more than the 6 drinks a day he told the doctor.  [sigh] 

I got the laundry started, now I need to do my shower and God Time, do up some candy.  Tomorrow's going to be a busy one. 

"It's not your fault"

I've got Mr Kittycat lying next to my chair.  He is so cute. 

I slept OK last night but woke up very tired.  I would say I am disabled, not because I have brain damage and severe mental illness, but because the medication I take for it makes me so very tired.  The cure is nearly as bad as the disease. 

I reset my alarm for an hour later, skipping my God Time, and slept in with Biscuit.  Then I got up, brushed my teeth, and fed him. 

I got ready for work, got Ron ready for work, and we left for the warehouse.  Ron was very surly today, complaining a lot about God being "slow" and needing to "hurry up".  It was exhausting. 

I got my stuff, and his, Jack came, and we went to work.  I brought out the new carts.  The new carts worked pretty well except the Coke made the one cart too heavy.  Several cases of cans, plus several cases of bottles, proved to be a little too much for navigating through doors. 

But I plan to keep my original metal cart, which has worked well for that in the past.  I will have a total of 4 carts, and will keep one on top of the sodas. 

I got it all in.  Now I had 5 carts full of stuff and only room for 3.  I had to unload the two new carts and pile everything up on my "first" carts.  Ron was still in a surly mood but gradually improved. 

We finished up and came home.  I took a nap, I was pretty tired from all the manual labor, and I was working on a headache. 

Biscuit got in bed with me.  I had a pretty good nap but I was cold, Ron had the A/C colder than I like.  I was just under a sheet, so I got a little chilled.  But I wasn't miserable enough to get up and adjust the thermostat. 

My alarm went off and I got up, got ready to go.  Ron wanted to go out for burgers.  So, we went. 

Ron was cranky again, said his back was bothering him, and genuinely seemed in a lot of pain.  If I had put my blood pressure cuff on him I'm sure it would have been elevated.  He needs something for pain, I don't know what, but what he's currently doing is not working.  I hate to see him in pain, and the worst part is, when I get overwhelmed I get angry at him for hurting so much.  It's not like he can stop it, but I want him to, and it's awful.  But it's a self-defense thing - get angry at him because I can't stop it. 

And so goes the path of caregiver burnout.  I imagine, at least.  It's like I told a customer today, his back was already a mess before the accident. 

I still remain amazed he did not break his back in the accident.  The impact of a full sized pickup truck to his legs and torso, lung damage, kidney damage, busted artery in his chest, but his back was not broken.  That's got to be God. 

Some will get angry at this, but God does that sometimes, yes to this, no to that.  You will suffer but only so much.  And of course God is with us through it, and has enabled, in Ron's case, doctors and pharmaceutical companies to create good medications that help.  That applies to me, also. 

I had to suffer unmedicated, for 32 years, but I was "given" good medication that works (even if it makes me tired all the time) on my symptoms now.  Why is it that I always want to spell "symptoms" as "sumptoms"? 

So we went to dinner.  Ron felt pressured because we "only" had an hour.  He kept trying to rush things.  I ate my salad, and my burger, took my pills and gave Ron his multivitamin. 

The meal went OK until I told Ron a man had come in with a service dog.  Ron loves service dogs.  Obviously we aren't getting one, things are too hectic and Ron is not active enough to merit a service dog.  I would also have to care for it's physical needs and I can barely take care of the litter boxes. 

Anyway, Ron kept bothering me to take him over to the "parent" and I wouldn't do it.  It was clear to me the dog was an ESA - emotional support dog, and the "parent" had some odd body language that indicated "don't poke at me".  Ron said he wanted to tell him about paratransit, and kept agitating me. 

I finally told him the guy could drive, he had another disability (not blind), was eating, engaged in a conversation, and would not appreciate being bothered.  Ron pouted, but let me take him outside. 

That's when I told him the guy probably had a psychiatric disability.  Ron finally left it alone, after making a crack, directed at me, about "crazy people". 

People fail to understand it does not bother me to be "insulted" with the title of crazy, told I am disturbed, whatever.  Because I am.  That's like calling me 5 foot 7 or someone who wears glasses.  Yes, I am, it is a part of me, so what? 

About the only thing that bothers me is when someone says I don't need my medication or implies I am some sort of addict getting my fix every Pill Time.  That upsets me.  The rest - pbbbbht. 

It had rained while we were eating, but it passed.  Thank God.  It was nice and dry for the ride home. 

We got home, I got Ron in the house.  He is pretty much incapable of getting into the house on his own.  So I do it. 

If something happened to me, Ron is screwed.  So are the cats. 

Anyway, I got him in, put his leftovers in the fridge, and went to check the mail.  I couldn't get the key to turn in the lock, the maillady pushed the talking books up against the lock and now it won't turn.  So I can't get the box open.  I will try shoving a knife in through the bottom tomorrow, and some other things, but it's aggravating, and I don't want to break my key. 

So I came back and told Ron I couldn't get it.  "It's not your fault" he said. 

He says that a lot, in a way that always sounds like he does think it's my fault.  I hate it when he does that.  I tried to call my parents, but my abuser's son is visiting so they are focused on him.  I also believe my abuser is there as well. 

I have some scars on my body from that man.  He was not a nice kid/teen.  Whatever you say about Ron he wasn't sadistic like that.   Thank God they didn't pick up and try to make me talk to him. 

So I got on the computer, listened to a little music, worked on the blog, worked on pretreating laundry.  I have quite a mountain of laundry to wash.  I will get it tomorrow. 

Tonight is litter box night.  I definitely need to get them.