Year's End

"In depression...faith in deliverance, in ultimate restoration, is absent. The pain is unrelenting, and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come, not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute. It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul." -William Styron, from 'Darkness Visible; A Memoir of Madness', 1990






I've always hated this time of year. The languishing between Christmas and the New Year, brimming with disappointed Christmas wishes and overflowing with the promise of the new, seems each year more and more like a rip tide pulling me down into the darkening depths of futility.

This year is no different. Apart from successfully negotiating my coursework (no small feat, that), I've had precious little go right this year. Health and finances are a mess, as are almost all of my relationships and I just can't seem to get a handle on all the paperwork and bills that are still looming.

I'm trying, still, to get it together. I've got to finish an application essay tonight and tomorrow will be spent trying to tie up the loose financial ends from 2009. Will I get it all done? I hope so. The application is paramount, since there were others involved and after folks agreed to recommend me, it just seems ungrateful not to finish the application even if, at this particular moment, I don't feel like either writing or continuing with this educational slog.

My husband is in Minnesota at the moment and not speaking to me. True. I started it. I didn't want to talk to him yesterday. I was exhausted, had spent literally hours getting multiple medical tests done yesterday and then ran around returning gifts. By the time I finally got home I could barely string two words together and I just wanted to go to bed. Since the majority of our phone conversations over the past few days had left me feeling a bit glum and unsatisfied, I thought perhaps going straight to bed might be the better option.

He took umbrage, left me an email saying he knew I was there and wondered if I'd call him back, and asked me to call him when I felt up to speaking with him. Which I did. Today. Guess what? He didn't answer.

So I texted him. Guess what? He didn't answer.
I just called him again and...guess what? If you said, "He didn't answer," you'd be correct. Sorry. There is no prize.

So now I'm mad, he's mad. Everyone is mad. Of course he doesn't actually have to do anything that requires his brain. I'm the one who has to write a stunning application letter while I'm fuming. Always works out like that doesn't it?

Did I mention that heightened emotions especially anger and frustration really don't go well with brain injury. Yes, those are two of the things that most easily derail cognitive functioning.

So thanks for that.

Btw, so this isn't just a total rant about my crap. The following link is to a rather good article about brain injury and depression. Check it out.

http://braininjury.org.au/portal/psychological/depression-following-acquired-brain-injury----fact-sheet.html

Yeah, Christmas, Whatever.

Christmas has appeared almost without warning. Yes, I know they've been decorating store and selling Christmas crap since October but I didn't think it was THIS WEEK! Sometimes the whole time slip thing sneaks up on me. I am, as usual, woefully unprepared and would prefer to have approximately four extra days before the holiday.

Such hype, such elevated expectations for one day. Really, can't we all just settle for just a bit less this year. Folks at my house will have to since I am a) broke and b) still overwhelmed post semester. Somehow I haven't quite bounced back from the "big push" of the final three weeks. Between finishing papers and projects and studying for the GRE and filling out applications, well, as the Brits would say I'm well and truly knackered.

I've still got some Practicum stuff to finish up and would like to go to put in some hours tomorrow as they're having their party for the clients. But honestly, my sleep has been crap for the last three weeks and I just can't seem to get it back on track.

I've only the week between xmas and New Year's off, as classes restart on the 4th. This is causing me no end of sadness. That, coupled with the fact that my finances are so depleted this year there will be no going away to ring in the year. Traditionally, I hide on New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. I've done it for years. Parties are awful and disappointing. Lots of drunken idiots you don't know wishing you a happy year. Bah. Since '00 I've generally stayed home with a book and a movie and had a much better time. Actually, I prefer to be at the beach. Not necessarily anywhere warm, just near an ocean. I was hoping to sneak away for a day or two this year but I don't think that's possible.

Besides, I still have the piles (PILES) of paperwork that has been collecting over the last three months that needs my attention. I have a think about tying up all the old business before starting the new year.

I guess on some level keeping myself insanely busy forced me to maintain as much focus as possible. Exhausting, yes, but now there's the mountain of paperwork and office organization that I desperately need to do, but without a looming deadline from someone else (and no grade hanging over my head) I just can't seem to get it done.

Honestly, I'd just like to be a slug for about a week, watching old movies and doing a bit of needlepoint and painting. I'd like to simply let my brain do nothing. Ok, I was planning on cleaning off the treadmill and getting a bit of exercise too. But nothing cerebral. Nothing stressful. Nothing RUSHED. I'd planned as little driving as possible (preferably none) between the holidays but those plans are trashed (the hubby is going to Minnesota with his cousin so I'll be driving myself wherever I need to go).

There's never enough time. Days slip by and I don't seem to accomplish even a minimum of what I need to be getting done. I know this sounds like eveyone's life, but it didn't use to be mine. Not in this way. I still can't get used to it.

Missing In Action: The Blog's Not Over Yet

I have been remiss. Yes, I promised myself that I would post every day but if I've learned one thing in the last few months it is that I need to prioritize and I need to accommodate to what it possible for me. During this past month it was imperative that I make my classes a priority. This left little time for anything else. Between classes, doctoring, and my practicum, well, there was no social life, little sleep, and some downward mobility when it came to eating well and exercising.

Classes ended on Friday, today I'm finishing some doctoral program applications and Tuesday I take the GRE, so the big push isn't really over yet. I also have about 8 hours to finish for the practicum. Wednesday. Wednesday will be the official end of this crazy ride.

I wasn't able to write yesterday (the day originally slated as "Application Day") and I'm chalking that up to forcing myself to function at near exhaustion for the last week and a half. But after a solid 10 hours of sleep last night (I was in bed at 8pm) my brain is working much better today. Strangely, my time perception today is incredibly skewed. Hours are passing VERY S-L-O-W-L-Y. It's impossible to tell if this is due to the extended sleep or just the fact that I don't have to race off to class or an appointment and I'm not scrambling to finish a research paper, or if it's just my brain being strange. Perception of time is one of the things that definitely changed with the injury.

I am officially recommitting to this project. I actually missed writing here. There were days when I'd had experienced that were pertinent and wanted to write about them but was just way too tired to do it justice. I would like this blog to be more than just a diary of my trials and tribulations. I would like it to be useful and educational as well.

So, from now on, I'm back on the program and will be writing here as often as possible. Hopefully that will be everyday, but I have to admit that perhaps the "daily writing" goal was a bit over enthusiastic. That's not saying I won't write everyday, but I'll be happy with three times a week, and will attempt to make these entries meaningful, not just a dutiful few lines logged in order to fulfill my self-imposed requirement.

With that, I'm going back to writing my personal statement. Wish me luck.

Soldiering On

"It does not matter how slow you go, as long as you do not stop." Confucius

I've been less that dedicated to this blog lately, and that saddens me. This was something that I wanted to commit to and when I let it slip, I feel like it just one more way I let myself down. There are other priorities to be considered and sometimes, this is the lowest, that's just the truth of it. In the spirit of this project I have to acknowledge that it's better to let something like this slip for a bit, than to overly stress myself or stay up to late, etc.

Just because something is the right choice and makes the best sense doesn't mean I have to like it.

I've started doing yoga again, and that is definitely improving my pain levels and my flexibility. (Shocker, eh?) I have also started meditating again. It's just a simple mindfulness meditation practice that I've been doing before bed, but I think it's helping. I plan on trying to keep up both the yoga and the meditation and I think that is possible. Most of the large projects for this semester are finished, so things are not quite as desperate now. I still to catch up on Practicum hours but I think that will work itself out.

Hopefully, I can get some extra hours over the Thanksgiving break.

All that being said, I still can't wait till this semester is over. I wish I could go away for a week or even just a long weekend in December but I don't think that is possible considering the current state of my finances. Odds are my unemployment will be denied and that's going to hurt. This will also impact how I structure the next several months and what classes I take. I would really like to slow down a bit. Given the craziness of this semester, taking five classes while doing Practicum/Internship hours might not be the best choice for me. Unfortunately, delaying classes or taking fewer classes per semester could mean that my graduation would be delayed and that worries me, because, of course, that means a longer wait till I can start working in this field.

I think I'll be taking four next semester. Mondays and Wednesdays will be class days - there is a five week compressed course being offered in Philly that I would like to take but I think having the extra day off (or reserved for internship hours) and the reduction in driving is more important at this point.

Choices

"It is our choices that show who we really are... far more than our abilities." J. K. Rowling

In the midst of all this overwhelming work - practicum hours, papers, projects, doctoring, legal battles, caring for Gram - there are choices to be made. I need to think about the next phase of my education. Am I going on for PsyD or Phd work? I need to start applying for that. What classes am I taking next semester? How many?

Since I'm not working at the moment, I have to think about cash flow. It's still flowing out. That doesn't stop just because no more cash is flowing in. I'm ok for tuition as I've taken out loans but not working is making me a little crazy. I still have bills. I have LOTS of bills. I'm working on getting unemployment or temporary disability, and I can't fully express how negatively that is affecting me. Unemployment is one thing, disability is another. I don't want to admit that I have a disability, but I do.

I don't want to tell people about what's going on. "Saving face" and keeping up appearances is so important to me. Honestly, I wish I didn't care about that stuff, but I do and I don't know how to get out of that loop in my head. I called a prof today to tell him I couldn't make it to class. One of Gram's caregivers is sick, so I needed to be here with her, of course that's really an excuse I was looking for as I was exhausted from last night's class and didn't sleep well. I have a 10 page paper that is due on Monday and I'm fuzzy today. So I'm home, trying to work on this research, and I keep thinking about all this other stuff. I don't know if I will be able to take the number of courses I want to take next semester.

This semester was so difficult, part of me really wants to slow down a bit and only take three courses, but I also desperately want to finish this degree so I can attempt to get a job.

Unfortunately, my experiences this semester make me wonder if I can handle a 9-5 job. Honestly, I probably can't. I don't know if I'll ever be able to work a schedule like that. So what are my options? Part time practice and part time doctoral work? Full time doctoral work? Is it even worth it if I won't be able to work full time? Will it be worth paying off the student loans?

Maybe I should just stop at the Master's level? Then again, what's the point of having a semi-useful M.S. degree? But what's the point of a Phd or PsyD if I can't work? I keep telling myself that a private practice would allow me to arrange my schedule so I could work. You know, keep it to a manageable amount, etc. But I'm not at all sure that is a realistic possibility. I see how people work and what people do at my practicum and that is not what I want from a job. I hope that isn't the only option for mental health providers.

I hope I can make it through this semester with decent grades. Today's missed class may hurt me. Who knows? I do well in the class, at least I think I do, but attendance does count. I don't want to tell profs and people that I have these issues, largely because they are generally invisible - unless you're looking. Today, on the phone, I sounded like an idiot because I was having a very difficult time understanding Dr. E. That's me, that's my brain - I can't stand talking on the phone with people anymore. Unless it's someone I know and speak to on the phone often, it is tremendously difficult for me to understand and process language.

I don't know how to let people know about my difficulties (disabilities) without having them think less of me. I don't want to sound like a whiner, or like I am asking for special treatment. At the same time, I don't want anyone to misinterpret my behaviour and think I'm an asshole or inefficient or lazy.

Even though I have choices, many times there is no satisfying solution.

Beautifall

"You don't get to choose how you're going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you're going to live." Joan Baez

It's a gorgeous day, about 75 degrees and I've been inside all day. The last few weeks has been full of scrambling to finish projects and get caught up. I'm still woefully behind in terms of Practicum hours but I soldier on.

It's 3:30 and I am leaving - right now. To go wash my car and go for a short walk. The day is too beautiful to waste. Sure, I'll pay for this later as this week shows no signs of being easier or less overscheduled. I lost time yesterday with visitors but that was worth it. Everyone needs some socialization and that includes me.

I really am seeing the effects of brain problems. The more stressed I get the easier it is for me to get off track cognitively, and, of course, memory is affected. My Culture class was cancelled the week before last and I couldn't remember that at Friday's class. There were also some assignments that I missed. I STILL don't understand that. Everyone else seemed to have them but I didn't. I even went home and checked online and couldn't find information on the course website either. Honestly, I have no idea what happened there and how I got so confused. It really felt like I'd lose time somehow. I think I managed to cover - mostly, but it's an awful feeling not knowing what's going on yet being perfectly aware that you've missed something vital - again.

Right now, however, it is vital that I get outside while the sun is shining.

"Behold the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out." James Bryant Conant

I spent most of the day like that picture, pouring over some old charts and getting some practice with discharge summaries. Now, my neck is all out of whack and I have a screaming headache.

I should be in bed by now. Class starts early tomorrow, and I'm going to try to get some more practicum hours after that.

The last few days have been hard physically. The weather has been damp and unpleasant and my body just doesn't like that sort of thing anymore. I'm also kind of tapped out mentally. I've basically been doing a full 9 - 5 day - or longer - and honestly, I can't really handle that yet. I don't know if I ever will be able to do a regular work week. I start to drag around 1:30 if I start at 9. It's worse if I have to interact with other people. Conversation is one of the most taxing things for me.

I know, talking to people doesn't sound like it's that big a deal, right? Well, it's not. At least not for normal people, but I'm still trying to "pass" as normal, so it takes quite a bit out of me. I guess because the regular pace of conversation is sometimes faster than my brain can find words. I think that's probably the crux of it - the word-finding part. But it's not just the word-finding it's the finding and then speaking. Sometimes I have the word but I just can't get it out.

And then there's the pain portion. Think about how difficult it is to think straight when you have a headache. Now consider what it would be like to have that headache all the time. That's what it's like living with chronic pain. It's always there, even when it's not really bad, it's still on the radar, still consuming energy. It's rather like a trojan virus on a computer, just taking up space, hogging the hard drive so your computer can't think anymore. That's what chronic, even low level, pain does to the human brain.

So it's an effort to be present and communicate and interact and live a normal life. It's exhausting, and by the time I'm done at 4:30 or 5, I AM DONE. I don't want to talk to anyone else, not my husband, not my family, no one. I don't want to talk on the phone. I don't want to participate. All I want is to veg out and either read or watch a movie or make something. Although, even that is dependent on what else I did during the day. I have a limited tolerance for reading and writing activities now and limited ability to focus visually.

I'm still struggling with all this trying to understand how to balance everything and figure out what it means to be brain damaged or disabled or whatever I am now.

Giving Up

WTF? Someone helpfully removed some viruses from my computer and now several vital functions no longer work. Like copy and paste. I can copy but I can no longer paste.

Oy.

So, I give up. Suddenly everything is a fucking CHORE. Nothing works well or correctly. Things that took one step now take four. And even then success is only a slight possibility.

There's already enough crap going on in my life. I don't need things to be more difficult than they already are.

My car is making horrible noises.

My water heater just crapped out, leaking all over the floor and spewing hot water out of the emergency hose.

I think my practicum boss was annoyed that my husband came to bring me lunch. (He came from the warehouse and was dressed like one of our "clients".)

I have heartburn.

There are three pages of work waiting for me and I'm not doing it.

C. is working tomorrow (into Friday) so that's two fewer days he will have to get the house ready for this weekend. We're supposed to have guests on Sunday and he promised he would take care of the house.

My sleep has been awful. I can get to sleep but I can't stay there. The last several days have been rough. I'm definitely not getting enough sleep or at least not long enough stretches of sleep. C. says I'm waking up about every 15 to 20 minutes. Ugh.

I don't think any of this is ever going to get any better.

I will always feel overwhelmed. My house will always be trashed. I will never be able to find anything. I will never get a good job. I will always be in pain and not feel like myself. I will never get a good night's sleep.

(Sorry, it's a bit of a pity party again. I'm just feeling like things look pretty dismal tonight.) It's the rain. I blame the rain.

Duh. I Am Smart.

"Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped." Elbert Hubbard (1856 - 1915)

Last week I gave a presentation on Gifted Girls in my Lifespan Development class. My opener was asking the class to name some geniuses. They did exactly what I wanted and expected them to do and came up with several dead white males. I wrote them on the board as they called out the names and misspelled three out of five.

At that point I figured I should probably leave out the part about actually being a gifted girl.

I'm struggling at this point with being a smart person with a retarded brain. The work for my classes is piling up and I am, frankly, overwhelmed. Between regular school work and getting enough hours for my practicum and dealing with Gram and my own health crises, there isn't enough time or energy left over for anything else. Sometimes there isn't enough time or energy to even complete those things.

C. and my therapist both think I should speak to my profs about this issue. I'd rather eat a bug.

I've already been late with several assignments this semester. I HAVE talked to them, mostly about the Gram and health issues and they've been very understanding but I do not want to have to go to these people and tell them that now I need MORE help and more time and more exceptions because I'm retarded.

I know, the term "retarded" is not in fashion any longer. Well, I'm taking it back. At least in terms of learning disabilities and developmental delays. Really.... "retarded" is the best term in these cases. "Retarded" means "slowed". "Developmentally delayed" means the same thing as "retarded". Duh.

There really isn't an appropriate term for what I am. Brain damaged is, I guess, the best word for it. I do have brain damage, but that still isn't really descriptive or remotely illuminating, especially in my case where the damage may be, largely, invisible.

I'm ok in class. I can keep up and participate in discussions and I'm sure no one knows there is a problem. Until I have to write something on the board and they see how bad my spelling is. They don't see the typos and rewrites and hours of not being able to concentrate at home. They don't see how after I'm "on" in a class or at work I just collapse at home, barely able to form a sentence.

I don't know how to be both smart and brain damaged. For me, and I think for many people, those two things are mutually exclusive. You can't be both smart and retarded. It just doesn't work like that.

Except for situations like mine, when it does.

Happy Meat

"The true object of all human life is play." - G. K. Chesterton

Today's been difficult all around, and I was looking for something completely different to write about when I, inexplicably, found this.

Happy Face Lunchmeat!

I think smiling happy bologna might just make everything in my life OK again.

Sometimes you find exactly what you need, when you need it, ridiculous as that thing may seem to others. Really, humor goes a long way and I'm smiling right now. Just like that highly processed nitrate-filled mystery meat.

Yeah.

:)

Hell is Where The Heart Is

"I am my own heaven and hell!" J.C.F. von Schiller

I'm in the hell portion right now. Haven't written here for over a week due to time constraints, exhaustion, depression and flat out laziness. I swore I would do this every day. HA! What are promises for but to break, eh?

All hell is breaking loose everywhere I look. Gram's condition is worsening. Now we know she does not have congestive heart failure, but rather, liver failure, most likely autoimmune hepatitis. Which makes me wonder about my high ANA levels over the summer. No, it wasn't Lupus, but dang, could it be AIH? It's genetic, you know.

Doc appointment in November will involve questions to that effect.

Meanwhile, I'm late with everything. Ended up in the hospital with chest pains, and think I may fail out of grad school. Oh, yeah, and I still haven't filed my student loan. The screw up was a communication one, I'd called in August to see if I had to do anything, unsure as I was, whether loans were for calendar years or academic years. Since NO ONE is EVER in any of the offices at the school I left a message. No one called me back, I assumed everything was ok.

Never assume.

So I scramble. I fail to log practicum hours. I get no sleep. I minister to the sickly grandmother.

I get no sleep.

Did I mention I get no sleep.

I can't focus worth a damn, and really need about a week and a half with nothing stressful. Honestly, I think I'd be ok if I could manage that.

I also need to apply for unemployment again, and continue to gather my medical records for my stupid lawyer who has done LESS than my last stupid lawyer who I fired because he wasn't doing anything. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

This is why I didn't write here. Nothing but bitching. Nothing illuminating. Nothing helpful. Nothing uplifting. Just crap crap crap crap. But, sadly, that's what it feels like at the moment. An overwhelming pile of endlessly generating crap.

It I didn't have stress, I'd have nothing.

I had a brilliant quote about despair but since my husband "fixed" my computer and cleaned off all the viruses and trojans and evil things, well, nothing works.

Before it was slow, but at least it did what I wanted it to do. It's some sort of trade-off I supposed. Now when I can't do what I need to do, at least I do it faster.

I am tired.

God, how often have I written that here. The "flu" or whatever it was that knocked me on my ass on Monday really just sucked all my energy. I feel like I'm drugged all the time. Is someone slipping me a Benedryl without my knowledge? That's what it feels like. It's almost too much effort to get up and walk across the room to answer the phone.

I was supposed to go out with friends tonight. That went south. I was supposed to drive to my Uncle's house and stay there tonight so I'd get an early start for the art jurying tomorrow. Yeah, that's not happening either. I don't even WANT to do the jury thing now. I just don't care. I want to SLEEP.

I want to sleep for hours - days if necessary.

We were also going to drive to Cape May tomorrow night for dinner (we'd be in Philly; it's half-way there) but I don't know if that's going to fly either.

Sleep is what I need. Although I wouldn't mind several days by myself at the beach, keeping my own hours, getting some work done undisturbed.

Sadly, that will never happen now.

The Book of Job, er, um, The Book of Lor

"What am I? Job?" - Me

Ok, I know the grammar isn't correct. I don't care. I say it all the time anyway.

Let's just recap: Wed I ended up in the ER and was admitted to rule out a heart attack.

Thursday, I slept since I didn't sleep more than 45 minutes during my overnight stay in the hospital.

Friday, I had a stress test all morning and came home to find that my Gram had to be taken to the hospital to have fluid removed from around her lung.

Sat, was spent mostly recovering from all the nonsense.

Sun, I fell up the steps when racing to Grams room because she buzzed for assistance.

Monday, Therapy appointment and class (they were both OK, but I was stressed because I had a 10 page paper due and was NOT done - I got an extension, thank God.)

Tuesday, had an interview w/ the insurance adjuster regarding the August accident, then had a Doctor's appointment, on the drive I started shivering and couldn't stop. I offered to just go home so as not to contaminate the office if I had the flu. Got home and, again, couldn't stop shaking and shivering. Crenshaw bundled me up with about five blankets and I eventually fell asleep on the couch. Gram's aide was really worried and took my temp and wanted to send me to another Doc or the ER but I felt so crappy I didn't want to move.

I slept it off for a couple of hours, still have wicked body aches and headache and am just BONE TIRED and kind a shaky, but we did a nasal swab that came back negative for flu so I guess I just have something that resembles the flu but isn't.

Either that or I'm one of the 30% of people who test negative when they really have the flu.

Either way, I'm staying warm and hydrated and taking Ibuprofen and going to bed early. Naturally, I didn't get done anything that I needed to do today. I'm going to try to catch up for a couple hours right now because, thankfully, I am starting to feel a bit better.

Not sure who will drive me to class tomorrow. I might have to recruit the man for that detail.

Seriously, though, is the universe testing me or something?

"You're Fired!"

"Getting fired is nature's way of telling you that you had the wrong job in the first place." Hal Lancaster, in The Wall Street Journal

I've never really gotten fired before. That's not really the correct term. I was "replaced". It's like the Brits saying "made redundant".

The fact is I was supposed to start teaching an online class last Tuesday, couldn't get logged onto the ANGEL platform, support techs didn't return my phone calls requesting help and then everything went to hell in a handbasket with my in the hospital and my grandmother, etc.

Or course, no tech support is available over the weekend so I had to wait until this morning. I made several calls and left messages and several hours later the Director of Distance Learning called to tell me I was no longer "on" that course.

"Well," she said, "there was nothing loaded in that module."

Duh. Yeah. That's because I couldn't log in to load it. Nor could I access my email. On top of that, the ANGEL system wasn't recognizing ANY of my email addresses which would have allowed me to change my password and gain access.

It's a blessing. Really.

Ok, so there's the absolutely no money coming in issue, but really, I didn't have time to devote to teaching this class. I'll be lucky if I can get all my work done for the classes I'm' taking.

(I got an extension for the paper that was due today. Interestingly enough I didn't see anyone else handing anything in...nor did she mention that it was due. Did everyone else just send it to her via email? Hmmm...)

Tomorrow: meet with Insurance Adjuster regarding fender bender from August (I need to give a recorded statement. Oy.), chiro, then home again, home again, to bang out the two papers that are due on Wednesday.

Losing last week really hurt me in terms of getting all my homework done. I sound like a seventh grader - "homework".

It's bedtime. I've got a busy day tomorrow. Oh, yeah, and I also have to apply for unemployment. We'll see if they deny me this time. I'm sure they will but this one I will definitely appeal.

Impossible Tasks

"Time is that quality of nature which keeps events from happening all at once. Lately it doesn't seem to be working." Anonymous


I don't know how I'm going to get everything done that needs to be done. This "new" course is killing me. I still can't get online to load the course I'm supposed to be teaching and none of the ANGEL techs have called me back to help me. They are going to fire me and I think, on one hand, it will be a blessing. I've essentially given up on teaching it.

There is so much work for this semester. All my classes demand several papers or projects and I have my practicum. All that along with my grandmother and trying to help out with her and my rocky marriage and my "old" health issues including the brain thing... and now I have a new one - high blood pressure and I just don't know how I can do all this.

That being said, I don't know what I can "give up". Oh, you have to cut back. Slow down. Calm down. Relax. Yeah, right. What do I give up? The schooling that will (hopefully) allow me to get a job I actually CAN do? My marriage? My family?

Clearly I am ready to give up my so called job teaching. In the grand scheme of things the whopping $2000 I would get for the course probably isn't worth the hassle, but then again, it's not like there's any other money coming in. So tomorrow I will dutifully call the techs AGAIN and try to log on. At this point I can't even log onto my school email to see if I'm fired or not. Ha! The bitch of it is, I called and logged in on Monday and then the next day - POOF! Gone again. It is insanely frustrating and just shouldn't be this difficult.

Clearly I have also given up on my health. I'm beating myself up. I eat crap. I don't get enough sleep. Essentially I have NO down time or hobbies or fun.

Fun? What is "fun"?

Actually that's not entirely true. I snapped like a twig yesterday and made my husband take me to the Bloomsburg Fair. I love fairs. Don't ask. It's geeky, I know, but I love the Americana aspect of it, and I'm addicted to Kettle Corn. We went. We had a really wonderful time. I tried not to think of any of the crap in my life and it was a much needed break.

Now I'm paying for it. Now I have a paper to write for tomorrow. I SHOULD be going in to my practicum site but I may end up staying home tomorrow and writing instead. I will never catch up. NEVER.

This is not healthy. My BP is still sky high. I mean that and I mean that it is high constantly not just when I walk up and down the stairs. I know I need to start walking again but I can't for the life of me figure out where I would squeeze that half hour into my already crammed schedule.

On a potential positive note, I am starting a diet tomorrow. Ugh. "Diet" what an ugly word. But I'm doing it, and I'm doing it, like I do everything else, hard core. There is an enormous box of Medifast sitting on my kitchen table and I am committed to doing it for the month of October. We'll see how I do. I hope to drop 10% of my body weight and that losing it will bring down my BP.

I know it's a cop out. I should be eating real food and not relying on shakes and bars and crap like that but in reality it's about the only thing I can manage at the moment. Shakes and bars I can eat in my car on my way to and from classes and practicum and doctor's appointments. The plan allows for one "Lean and Green" meal each day which is comprised of a serving of lean protein and three servings of green (or approved) vegetables. So there will be some real food in the mix.

The sad fact is that I feel like crap and everything is starting to slip. I'm getting more and more sloppy with school and work and, honestly, just about everything. I'm TIRED. Truly, profoundly tired, and I'm not sure how long I can keep all these balls in the air.

What I Learned Today

"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterwards." Vernon Sanders Law

There are things you learn, factual things, snippets, items of information, and then there are things you know with your whole being. The space between the two is vast. Today I had a fact cross over into a knowing.

I know my grandmother is going to die.

Until today this existed for me as a fact, but, this afternoon as I watched her lying in a hospital bed, looking so, so small, her legs and arms so frail they reminded me of the bones of sparrows, I knew she was mortal, and she is dying, and, while that will be difficult and sad and painful, it will be ok.

I wonder now if I am a bad person for writing that. That isn't a question, just a statement.

When I finished my stress test, I called my mom at work and was told by her coworker that she hadn't come in today, that she had, in fact, called in and, "said something about trying to get her mom admitted." When I'd left for the test, everything was business as usual, not so now.

She hadn't called me. When I called home, the line was busy. I drove right home, and, seeing her car still there, parked around the block to allow space for the ambulance.

A few hours later she was, once again, having fluid removed from around her right lung. They took out two litres, with more left to go. She stopped them at the 2L. She was crying a bit at one point and it was one of the hardest things I've had to see. I was with her, standing in front as she leaned on some pillows so they could stick a catheter in her back to release the fluid.

She's home now, and she ate a good dinner, and is asleep, and all is well again, for the moment. But I know she is going to die, probably sooner than later. It's inevitable.

I also learned that I am not taking care of myself, in a number of ways. I looked like crap today at the stress test, and as I looked at the other people sitting in the row of chairs, IV ports taped to their right arms, I though, "my God, I look like I live in a van down by the river." (I was wearing a KU t-shirt, a black hoodie, and grey yoga pants and sneakers, a combo that doesn't necessarily sound that bad, but it was, it WAS.)

I was also the youngest person sitting in that row of chairs.

I wouldn't let anyone I love treat themselves like I've been treating myself. I wouldn't let them eat what I eat. I wouldn't let them be as inactive as I am. I wouldn't let them feel as bad as I do. I would take care of them.

I need to take care of me too.

To ER Is Human

"Over the years your bodies become walking autobiographies, telling friends and strangers alike of the minor and major stresses of your lives." Mayilyn Ferguson

After days of recurring chest pain, shortness of breath, racing pulse, and high BP, I finally went to the ER. They ran a host of cardiac tests, gave me some Nitropaste, a shot of Morphine, and decided to keep me overnight for "observation", which apparently means warehousing me in an uncomfortable bed while half a dozen nurses talk, LOUDLY, right outside my room.

It is entirely impossible to sleep in hospital.

When I finally decided, at three fifteen, to stop trying to sleep and do some reading (I'd thought ahead and brought a book) five minutes after I cranked the bed to its upright position and turned on the light, the power went out.

Yeah. Blackout at the hospital. Emergency lights were on in the hallway.

Found out later that the hospital was having a new computer system installed so they cut non-essential power for two hours during the night shifts.

Can you believe they do not have 24 hour room service in hospitals? Really. Savages, all of them.

On the good side, my heart does not appear to be damaged. On the bad side, my doc is blaming the whole incident on "emotional stress and musculoskeletal pain".

So, my pain was caused by pain. Well, that clears it up nicely, don't you think?

As for the emotional stress, well, that's a shocker. Stress, I'm not stressed. (Insert hysterical laughter here)

At 6:30 I began fasting for tomorrow's stress test. Even though the doc told me there was nothing wrong with my heart, he still ordered a stress test. Hmmm. CYA? Or are we perhaps not so sure? If there's nothing wrong with my heart, why do I need a stress test?

One of the doctors in the ER launched into a speech about how I just had to let things go and relax. Ahem. He was Indian, and proceeded to tell me about the rampant poverty in his "part of the world." I nearly grabbed him by the tie and asked, "So what are you saying, that all the shit that's going on in my life is my fucking KARMA and I should just 'let it go' and accept it?" I should have told him I was moments away from violating my vow of ahimsa and bitch-slapping him.

Forgive me for being stressed and concerned about a nearly impossible schedule, no employment, looming foreclosure, my dying grandmother, my failing marriage, my laundry list of health problems.

Oy.

When I told him I had a brain injury, this same doctor said, "Really? How do you know?" I almost slapped him again.

I know that people who didn't know me before the accident usually can't tell that I have anything wrong with me. That doesn't mean it didn't happen. That doesn't mean I don't have problems. No doubt most of the people he sees in the ER can't spell their own names, however, I was incredibly annoyed by his question.

"Did you lose consciousness in the accident?" he asked. Duh. YEAH. And then I let loose with the list of issues resulting from the injury: aphasia, concentration difficulties, executive function problems, personality changes, vision changes, a Central Auditory Processing problem, oh, yeah, and, by the way, my IQ dropped two standard deviations. "Yeah, Doc," I wanted to say, "I know you know what that meas. Luckily I was smart to start with so I'm still probably as smart as you are now." Ugh.

See, that's my anger management problem - also one of the many MTBI symptoms. Well, that one might be a sign. You know the difference, right? Symptoms are self-reported, "signs" are observable by others. Thus, my anger could be considered both a sign and a symptom.

So I spent the night on the Cardiac Floor listening to the loud nurses talking about glitter tattoos and how one of them has ducks and her ducks are so fat this year because they're eating all the bugs, and there are so many bugs this year that the ducks aren't bothering to eat any of the duck food because they're just eating the bugs. This, loudly, at four in the morning, is not what you want to hear while trying to sleep in a profoundly uncomfortable bed, which is stuck in the upright position, so you're curled up like a lima bean in the valley of the bed trying to find a position that both blocks your ears and accommodates the cardiac monitor and the IV line and the O2 getup.

For tonight I think that's probably enough bitching from me. Bed is calling me. Tonight, I'm getting some sleep. 6 am is gonna come mighty early.

Freedom's Just Another Word

"If you don't accept responsibility for your own actions, then you are forever chained to a position of defense." Holly Lisle, Fire In The Mist, 1992

Met with a realtor tonight to look into listing all my properties. I can't even express how angry I am at having to do this. Actually, I don't really care about two of the properties and would rather see them gone. The third, the one that houses my studio, I'd like to keep.

My husband and I are both on the mortgage for one of them, one of the ones I need to sell. Sadly, I don't think anyone will buy it, even at a reduced price. We are, or at least I am, screwed.

There is so much anger around this I don't know how I'm ever going to get past it. It is a supreme effort to even speak about this issue with anyone, especially him. I blame him for the deteriorated state of the building. I blame him for not devoting more time and energy to fixing and cleaning up the place. I blame him for not refinancing when he still had a job. I blame him for not promoting his(our) business that was supposed to be located in the space.

Months ago, heck, over a year ago, when I first started talking about the possibility of going back to school to pursue this degree, we had a long talk about this. We were also talking about having kids at that point and he actually said at one point that if I wanted to have kids, and wanted to get my doctorate than he would work while I got the degree, or play Mr. Mom if I had the better job, etc.

There were lots of promises.

The problem is that I think I mostly kept my promises. I don't know if he thinks that or not. But I definitely don't think he's kept his.

The realtor told me to get a lawyer.

Not what you want to hear, believe me. I need more stress like I need a hole in my head. Most of the time I already feel like I have a hole in my head. I laughed when he suggested that and asked if he thought I could get out of the contract on the grounds that I have a brain injury and my executive functions are impaired.

Lord knows, I wasn't thinking straight in the first nine months after the accident. I'm still not. You can't get a two year do-over just because you have brain damage, but, God, I wish I could.

Land of Confusion

"Confusion is always the most honest response." Marty Indik

Today was spent trying to organize all the paperwork from my courses and figure out a master schedule of what is due when. It's taken all day and I'm still not done. I'm also trying to organize the online class I will be teaching.

When I accepted this assignment, I thought I'd be getting a course template. I'm an adjunct and the last time I taught an online course the Dean provided me with a model course as a guideline. Actually, she suggested that I used the course as is for one semester and then decide how I wanted to change it. That worded out well.

This time, no template. Or, I should say, not a template that's ready to use. So it's up to me to design and write the course. Ugh. I never would have taken the assignment if I had known that. But now, it's the only job I have, the only course I'm teaching and since I would like to eat and be able to pay my bills, I'm teaching it.

It's hard for me to organize now. I get distracted easily. In a recent conversation, I admitted that I feel like I have an insight into what people with ADD must feel like. With me, I at least have a "normal" to refer to, but with people who have disorders like this - this IS their normal. Their lives are just difficult. They don't know why. They don't know how to change it. They don't even know there is anything else. I don't know what's worse. Knowing what you used to be, or knowing only difficulty.

Thankfully, I have good days and bad days. There are times, usually when I'm relaxed and in a good mood and have eaten well and gotten enough sleep (yeah, how often does that happen?), that I approach my pre-accident level of information processing. At other times, anything above silence is too much. When that happens, I just shut down. I can't talk, I can't think, I can't type, all I do is sit and stare.

I've been doing OK with most of the reading for classes. At least I think I have. There is still a lot that I don't retain if I'm tired or distracted. Rereading has become my new pastime. There have been times where I've reread an entire chapter and thought it was "new" until I got to the end and found a bit of highlighting or a margin note from the first time I read it. Disheartening? You bet.

Hope springs eternal that I will remember all the important bits and, thankfully, I don't think any of my classes will have fact based tests. I get the ideas. I just can't remember the names of the people who came up with the ideas.

Right, back to building my course with an eye toward clarity and economy of words.

Slippin', slippin', slippin'...

"Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana." Groucho Marx (1890 - 1977)

Today flew by. I have no idea where the time went. My uncle called to see how my grandmother was doing and asked, "What did you do today?" I was stumped. There is was five o'clock, the day was gone, and I really hadn't accomplished anything.

Ok, I made some vegetable stock, but the prep takes about 5 minutes so that didn't take up my time. I baked a cake. 20 minutes, tops. I made breakfast for myself, my mom and my grandmother. It was just a big pot of oatmeal with cherries and walnuts, so that was maybe, maybe 10 minutes start to finish.

I had about a two hour talk with my husband.

What happened to the rest of the day?

I cleaned all the fast food detritus out of the front seat of my car - again 10 minutes, tops.

This has been a problem since the accident. Time flies, literally. I no longer have the ability to accurately project how long it will take to complete a task. I also lose time. At least that's what it feels like.

Time passes differently now. I know it's just something with the way I perceive the passage of time, but it feels like my life suddenly got switched to fast forward. This, of course, throws off many things. Getting dressed in the morning. Heck, getting showered in the morning. I now find it necessary to put a clock in the bathroom where I can check it while I'm getting showered or taking a bath. If I don't keep checking the time while I'm getting ready to leave for an appointment I will, invariably, be late.

I've also found it necessary to add an extra 15 minutes to my travel time. This doesn't happen all the time, but I try. I guess I'm driving slower than I used to. That's not surprising, given the accident and the fact that I'm terrified in cars, but still, it's not something that you'd necessarily think of when getting read to go somewhere. Believe me, it's better to be early, than a) be late, or b) get panicked and end up freaking out on the highway. I've done that enough times, if I can control a situation that might lead to stress and panic, by all means, I'm going to do it.

I don't know how to correct the time issue. If it's not corrected itself by now, it probably never will. This is yet another case of "this is how I am NOW". It's just that I'm used to being much faster than I am now. Now I'm S-L-O-W, in more ways than one.

Imaginary Friends, Imaginary Activities, Imaginary Classes

"I was the kid next door's imaginary friend." Emo Phillips

Since the accident I do this thing where I think about doing something, and, because my short term memory is crap, I have to remind myself over and over, so I think about doing the thing over and over and then, at some point, without me realizing it, my brain suddenly decides that I DID whatever it was I was thinking about doing.

For example, if I need to return a phone call. I think about it. I remind myself to call Bob while I'm brushing my teeth. I remind myself to call Bob while I'm eating my breakfast. I get distracted by something and remind myself on my way to class to call Bob. When I get out of class I remind myself to call Bob. I drive home. I get distracted. I do other things. I go to bed. Days pass. Bob calls me. Bob: "Why didn't you call?" Me: "Huh? I thought I DID call you. Um. I, uh, thought about calling you."

And there you have it. This happens a lot with emails. I'll read it, start writing a response, get distracted, have to leave for an appointment, and never finish the reply. But my brain thinks I did because I started typing it.

Today's drama, however, was legitimate. Yesterday I got an letter from school listing one more class than I am actually taking. I registered for the class but phoned the registrar during the first week, our Drop/Add period, to request the course be dropped. Guess who somehow didn't get the message? Yep. So I've got this extra class and now, because it's late, the school would want me to pay for the class even if I withdrew.

Ugh.

The reason I requested the drop was because I didn't think I could handle the workload with this course. I already have this prof for another course and both courses are very time consuming. I thought it best to save one for another semester.

I called the prof. Thankfully, he was wonderful about the whole thing and agreed to let me join the class and catch up. But that means I do have to catch up. This weekend will be spent doing five weeks worth of work. I managed to complete two assignments between yesterday and today and handed them in tonight but there is a mountain of reading I need to do.

What's that saying, "No rest for the wicked?"

I must have pushed someone into an oven in a past life.

One of the assignments was a collage about your different societal roles and how you perceive yourself and what groups you fit in. I found that most of the imagery I was choosing had to do with this injury. Biology is biography, I guess. Maybe I should post a pic of the collage here.... you know, the funny part is, I'm going to spend the next day and a half thinking about doing that and end up thinking I already did it.

And no, I did not have an imaginary friend when I was a child. Or now, for that matter. Maybe I should get some. Ok, I did use to talk to a rat that lived in the drain, but that doesn't count right?

Stand Down!

"Everything is a dangerous drug except reality, which is unendurable." Cyril Connolly (1903 - 1974), "The Unquiet Grave", 1945

I can no longer control my frustration and anger. I almost hit someone tonight. Got up and raised my hand in anger, not just "oh, I almost hit him I was so mad".

I've never been like this before and I don't know how to handle it. I am scared. I am saddened. I cannot be in situations where I know I will be incredibly stressed or angered without fear of...what? Snapping like a twig and shouting obscenities? Striking someone? Breaking things?

D) all of the above.

Except, actually, when I'm really mad, I don't usually use obscenities. It's one of my quirks. Although when I'm really mad the brain doesn't work so well and sometimes I can't get out the words I want. That just adds to my anger and frustration.

It seem that everything adds to my frustration and anger these days.

I don't know what to do. I'm good, I'm SO good, so VERY GOOD and then I'm not. Everyone has their breaking points, I guess I'm learning where mine are, and God, there are a lot of them.

"Pick a Little, Talk a Little"

"Talk low, talk slow, and don't talk too much." John Wayne (1907 - 1979), Advice on acting


Fast talkers and low talkers are impossible for me to understand. Last Wednesday, in class, I couldn't understand my classmates. We had broken into two groups and were working on a project and I couldn't hear. I've obviously been relying on lip reading for some time now. I knew it was easier for me to hear if I could see the person's face but I didn't realize how much I was relying on lip reading. Last Wed., I didn't have a clue what my group members were saying if I couldn't see their faces. I only finished half of the project. Luckily, it was a group effort so it didn't cost me anything but it certainly did give me pause.

Today, a social worker came to the house to talk to my grandmother and tell us about possible support services for her, she's a fast talker, the social worker. Lovely woman, she just speaks quickly. I couldn't follow her conversation to save my life. She was offering me names and numbers and connections for possible internship opportunities, and I couldn't follow her conversation and write down what she'd just told me.

It hurt my brain.

The difficult combination of Central Auditory Processing Disorder and a decreased ability to maintain divided attention makes it almost impossible to take notes or remember anything said by a fast talker, or someone with an accent, or low talkers, or someone on a cell phone.

Have I written about Central Auditory Processing Disorders before? Well, pardon the repeat if I have. Basically a CAP is a problem with how the brain interprets sounds. My "hearing" is perfect. The biological mechanism of my ears works fine. Unfortunately, my brain doesn't always understand what my ears are hearing.

Picking out voices from background noise is a particular problem for me. I can't hear worth a damn in restaurants. Some movies are difficult. I frequently have to use the caption option even if the film is in English. Sometimes it's background music or other noise that makes it hard for me, other times it's an actor's accent. Speaking of accents, they're generally difficult, but the timbre of individual voices is also a consideration. Certain pitch levels don't work for me. This is especially true when I'm speaking to someone on a cellphone. Women are harder for me to understand than men, however, my uncle has a fairly deep voice and it, at times, impossible for me to hear.

Again, it's not really hearing. I can hear, it's interpretation.

Your ears work much like your eyes. Information is scanned by your eyes and sent to your brain which interprets what you see. Ears do the same thing. Sound comes in, it is coded and sent to your brain when the sounds are understood as words or music or whatever.

I'm in the process of trying to get a hearing aid through OVR. At present, it would cost me just over $1000. Yeah. Higher than you though, right? It's a special version that doesn't just amplify sounds, but actually picks out voices and dampens background noise via a small computer chip.

Retail price is somewhere in the $2500 range. Oh, and insurance doesn't cover hearing aids. You'd think it would, but alas, no such luck. At least my insurance doesn't cover them.

Honestly, I can't wait to get my hearing aid. It really does help tremendously. The audiologist gave me a loner to try before she wrote up the report and prescription and I couldn't believe the difference it made. I'm scared to death that I'm going to lose the thing - it's so small, but with it at least one part of me can be almost back to normal.

Experiencing life with this constellation of difficulties has, at the very least, made me more sensitive to what other people with more severe disabilities have to go through on a daily basis and I am changing my behavior. Now, when I leave phone messages, I speak slowly and make sure to repeat my number at the end of the message. SLOWLY. I can't tell you how many messages I've had to listen to again, and again just to decipher the correct phone number.

I'd like to continue this entry but I'm starting to get very tired. It's only 7:45 pm but I've had a long day, and the past few weeks have been a strain. I know I'm starting to drift because my visual focus is starting to drift, and I'm getting some doubling. There's still some reading I need to do for class tomorrow so I'll have to end things here.

Remember, speak slowly, stop mumbling and speak up. Please.

Don't Eat That

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." Katherine Hepburn

Weeks ago I wrote a rant about MSG and how I need to avoid it. Today I didn't. I ate THAT. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry now.

I hate the rhythm of my life. There is no pattern, no routine, or at least no workable, comfortable, healthy routine. I eat in my car, on the go. I eat crap. Then I feel like crap.

I want a schedule. I want to stop racing around from appointment to appointment to meeting to class to sleep to wake to appointment to class to appointmen to sleep.

I wouldn't treat someone else like this. I wouldn't feed someone else the crap I put in my own body, so why am I doing it to myself?

Hold That Thought

"You must not come lightly to the blank page." Stephen King (1947 - ) On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, 2000

I'm not writing here tonight. Magritte would approve of that sentence.

I'm in pain, having massively strained my back and knee pushing a cart full of supplies for a wedding cake I am attempting to bake for a former client. In another incarnation, I owned a catering business.

Last night, in lieu of writing here, I spent my time digging maggots out of a four week old kitten's ear canal. This afternoon I had to euthanize him. I'll rant about this later.

Today was my first day of practicum. I'll write about this later as well and how much this brain injury experience has really taught me.

I have to be asleep NOW if I'm going to get up and be safe to drive to class tomorrow morning. It's an hour plus commute.

On Saturday, I'm going to hear Paul Winter perform. I know, New Age geeky, right? It's like telling someone you like Yanni. For the record, I do NOT listen to Yanni. I did however, listen to the Paul Winter Consort all the time back in the late 80's. Whatever. Mock me if you must.

On Sunday, I'm going to hear Dr. Kevorkian speak. I'm going to ask him how he feels about euthanizing kittens that have maggots infesting their brains and what he thinks about euthanizing the crazy Cat Lady who feeds the sickly herd that produced said kitten.

I needed to be asleep two hours ago.

Crushing

"When one is happy there is no time to be fatigued; being happy engrosses the whole attention." E. F. Benson


Not counting illnesses or post-op, I am more fatigued than I have ever been in my life. Perhaps I am coming down with something. I've decided not to go see my grandmother this evening just in case. (I spent some time with her this afternoon, but I still feel like a heel.)

It is completely bone-crushing. This may just be my brain hitting a wall. Lifting a glass of water for a drink requires my weighing the pros and cons before commencing the action. Yes, I am that tired. More than anything else at this moment I want to just sit. Sit, and do nothing. Ok, I could stare at something meaningless on TV that requires no attention, but beyond that, nada.

So much "stuff" still needs to be done around the house. There is laundry. There are bills. There is homework. There is prep work for the class I'm supposedly teaching at the end of the month. There are phone calls to be made and emails to be sent. I was supposed to pick up info from the class I missed last week. I haven't. The class is tomorrow. (My phone is broken and I can't access my numbers. Bah.)

Did I mention that I start my practicum on Thursday, and that is also the day my grandmother may come home? That means I will definitely be moving my base of operations to the "Big House" (her house) so that I can be with her during the day.

It's not that I want to sleep either. At 4 p.m. I called my husband and told him how crappy I felt. He's had a stomach thing for the last few days and suggested I might be getting whatever he had. "But you weren't tired," I said, "you were just sick." "Well, yeah." We decided that I would try to take a nap and he would wake me up when he got home at 5. I tried. I was too wiped out to sleep.

Instead, I went online and got malpractice insurance, something that I'd forgotten I needed until today.

Four days with no responsibility would be just the ticket. That was what I'd hoped for with the trip to Jersey. Alas, it was not to be. At times like this it's hard to envision a time when I will feel whole again, and rested, and calm. It must happen, though, I'll die if it doesn't. That sounds dramatic, I know, but I feel myself slipping. I've missed several classes already due to the grandmother situation, etc., and that isn't like me. It's a slippery slope, and I am teetering on the brink.

I can't live like this anymore. This isn't living. This is barely surviving.

Takin' the Red Eye

"Hysteria is only possible with an audience." Chuck Palahnuik (1962 - ), Invisible Monsters, 1999.

The small red marks under the eye in the picture are called petechial hemorrhaging and are caused by asphyxia. I get them when I cry. Hysteria's a bitch, no? And although I do enjoy Chuck's writing, I have to disagree with him on hysteria - you can absolutely get hysterical all by yourself.

I like to do it in cars. Ha. That should have been the opening line for this post. At least it would have been an attention getter. What I meant was, I like to get hysterical in cars. Cars provide a measure of privacy, if not invisibility. We've all see those solo drivers, finger three knuckles deep in the left nostril. They're taking advantage of "Auto Invisibility", the ridiculous, yet appealling, idea that when you are in the privacy of your own car, no one else can see you.

Auto Invisibility also comes into play when I need to blow off a little steam, or have a minor breakdown. It's six of one, half a dozen of the other. The problem with my cunning plan to avoid detection of my hysterical meltdown is the fact that I cry so hard that I break blood vessels in my face.

I had a little meltdown today, and now look like I was slapped around by my pimp.

Just for the record, I don't have a pimp.

What I did have was a bad day. Not even that, I had a moment when I needed to freak out a little. A good cry can be very healing and helpful. I'm having them more and more these days. Sometimes it seems like my emotions are right under my skin, if I stand in front of a bright light, you can see them, like the delicate capillaries in a cat's ear.

I do not want to wear my distress like a badge. The red badge of my lack of courage. But the petechial hemorrhages, facial rashes, hives, blotchiness, tears - I can't hide anything anymore, and now is the time I most need to hide my weaknesses. Unfortunately, now is also the time I am least able to compensate and cover.

Thank god for makeup.

Here and Now

"It's also helpful to realize that this very body that we have, that's sitting right here right now... with its aches and its pleasures... is exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive." Pema Chodron






This experience with my grandmother, along with my own experiences with my new brain are definitely teaching me how to be present.

Two of my doctors keep telling me to practice mindfulness, which I keep attempting, but life keeps getting in the way. At the moment I think it's more important to stay mindful in the actual moment, IN my life, with the people in my life, than to "practice" mindfulness. I am practicing it. At least I'm trying my best.

My grandmother was doing fairly well today, but the good days, bad days, weigh on me. There is no sense of relief, no safety. I will feel better when she comes home.

I'm angry, people close to me have stopped talking to me. I'm stressed over work and schedules which I keep screwing up spectacularly. I have to start my practicum this week. I've dozens of phone calls to make and will have to be up at dawn tomorrow to get everything done and be able to visit the hospital. I've taken my nightly doses of, well, everything and will be heading to bed at once.

I'm trying to stay strong and not tear up at appropriate moments. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I want as much time with my grandmother as I can get. I want to be there for her, and for my mom who is really the one who bears the brunt of all this stress. They've supported me my whole life, now it's my turn.

My Grandmother's Night Nurse

"No man, not even a doctor, ever gives any other definition of what a nurse should be than this 'devoted and obedient'. This definition would do just as well for a porter. It might even do for a horse.It would not do for a policeman. "
-Nightingale, Florence Notes on Nursing.

Devoted and obedient are a pipe dream, at this point I'd settle for simply kind and respectful. My grandmother's night nurse is evil. She is condescending, rude, loud, coarse and uncaring.

I was ready to let fly with a slew of invectives before leaving the hospital, or, more precisely, before she kicked me, and my mother, out of Gram's room. The only thing that stopped me was the impotent knowledge that, had I pissed her off, she would be even more inconsiderate, if not downright mean, to my grandmother, and that was that last thing I wanted.

I even went so far as to tell Gram not to argue with her. Gram said she awoke at 2 am last night, Nurse Ratchet, proceeded to argue with her, which frustrated and angered my grandmother, who was already upset due to a downturn and a new symptom - what she described as excruciating pain in her feet.

It's possible she has gout and the Lasix has caused it to flare. Nurse R., didn't give a rat's ass that Gram couldn't put pressure on her feet to walk to the bathroom unassisted, or, with assistance. The afternoon nurses had put a "potty chair" in her room in case she didn't feel she could walk to the bathroom.

Nurse R., bitchily told her she had to walk to the bathroom because she did it last night and she would have to if she wanted to go home. I wanted to take her home on the spot, not trusting her care to this angry person.

She is clearly someone who hates her job and does night shifts hoping that her charges are all asleep, knowing that she won't have to deal with patients' families. WHY, in the name of God, so awful people who don't give a shit about other human beings go into careers like nursing? Is it the money? This woman is clearly the first person in her family who has seen the inside of a college. But seriously, get a job in a Dr's office, do billing, do something other that direct patient care.

I swear to god, if she hurts my grandmother, or upsets her, or mistreats her in any way... well, let's just leave it at that. Y'all know that one of my side effects is extreme inhibition when angry.

If you're reading this, please send good and healing thoughts to my Gram. She needs it. So do I.

Gram

"Her grandmother, as she gets older, is not fading but rather becoming more concentrated." Paulette Bates Alden, 'Legacies,' Feeding the Eagles, 1988

She's doing better. They drained the fluid and her bnP which is the indicator for congestive heart failure has dropped from 700 to 300. 250 is the goal. 100 is normal.

I keep having fits of crying both when I'm at the hospital with her and when I'm alone. Part of it is just the situation. I'm sure my mom has had her share of crying jags in the last few days. Part of it is hormonal. And part of it is my brain. Emotions can run high with TBI folks.

I don't know how to do this - say goodbye to someone I love in stages. Everyone I've ever known who has died has died suddenly. On some levels that's the preferable way to go. Lord knows, it's the way I'd like to shuffle off this mortal coil.

I know that I'm decompressing now because it looks like she'll be coming home and be ok for a while. This condition is manageable; she could live for years. I hope she does. Death is inevitable, sure. But this experience is teaching me that we, as a society, really do not have any good transitional rituals to accompany the process. There certainly aren't any to facilitate the process for the dying.

God, I hate this. I don't even know how to write about everything I'm feeling. She is so precious to me. As frustrating as she is, and as much as I have wished for her to do and say different things in the past, she's perfect and I see that now. It's a gift, really, being able to see this and know this now, while I still have her.

With any luck, I may be able to remember this and apply it to all the other people that I love. I have a sneaking suspicion that they are precious and perfect in their own ways as well.