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.