Friday, February 21, 2014


So my post yesterday - I hear you Mulder.  And Vanci.  And thank you Jessie.  But about the return to vodka?  I hear you.

After I posted that I went for my walk (shadow above) and mentally careened wildly from wanting to take the post down to wanting to get all defensive about it.  Ultimately I decided to leave it up and talk about it, because that's what I need to do for ME.  This space is where I am most honest about myself and my life - nobody in my 'real life' reads it except Mike and I guess sometimes Jeff.  Nobody knows about it and so I'm safe to say what I want about ME - I am always careful about what I say about my family because you just never know who will google your damned name.

Since the debacle of the cabin in December, seriously - our lives have gone into a meat-grinder of hospital visits.  Phone calls in the middle of the night, frantic appeals to Mike to watch the dogs while we head to one emergency room or another, scheduling nightmares because someone has to stay with Mom at home while others go to the ER to see Dad or the reverse.  Figuring out meds/prescriptions and diagnosis (more than one, how do you spell that?  diagno-sees) because the docs don't tell you anything because they don't want to be liable for anything.  Arranging to-dos at their house so that people can see them 'one last time' (that has been going on for 4 years it will never be 'the last time')  Texting all the kids and Jeff's sister in Reno and getting everyone ready to buy a black dress and then sounding the all-clear when he rallys again.  Its been bad.  And it is taking its toll.

Jeff burst into tears for about 4 seconds the other day.  And then went back to smiling and being Jeff - and that dam is going to burst at some point, and I am going to be in the line of fire.  He has already verbally smacked me (your blog is stupid.  I'm not changing any fucking thing about my lifestyle,  etc.) and I am feeling uh...  well, I guess PISSED but also attacked in my safety zone?  Rather put-upon and what not and I am serious when I said that at one point I would have walked out if I could have.  Things are better TODAY but he also is possibly relaxing his grip on the fact that he needs to take responsibility for his health, which always happens 3 or 4 days after an 'incident' and I cannot carry that rock.

I am terrified for our future health and security.  And I do not use that word 'terrified' lightly.  I'm in a blind, slithering PANIC over it.

I keep my sense of humor because that is how I deal with stress.  One does what one can.  I have had more than one screaming fight with Jeff's siblings/their spouses because I am on the front lines in this battle, helping however I can and so I am a good target for anger due to uncertainty over when He Who Will Not Die will actually cross the fucking rainbow bridge and go into the light.  And I scream back and then I let it go (NEW BEHAVIOR FOR ME) because this isn't about me.  Well, right HERE on this bloggy is about me but the battle is about their parents and I need to be like the guy at the back of the parade, just cleaning up the elephant poop.

I continue to help when asked (although I am pretty much done going to hospital rooms I simply cannot take it.  I just can't.  It's depressing on a cellular level.)  I give rides and I should actually cook another casserole to take over come to think of it.  We pay for their cell phone and I research meds/conditions/diagno-sees and just help.

And I started going across the street with Jeff to Lazy Dog (restaurant) and having a drink or two (always two, let's not start hedging NOW) and talking about all of it.  Fridays, when he gets off work at 4 I have typically met him there.  Saturday afternoons once all the 'chores' are done.  We sit and relax and have a coupla drinks and he puts his hand on my knee and the world seems to slow down for a minute.  And YES - that slow slide into the second drink when the alcohol starts to hit is what I was looking for, what my addiction wanted, and how I deal with stress.  NOT GREAT.  No excuses.  I am doing what I always did.  I will have no one else to blame when I get what I always get.  

I am not asking for you all to watch my train-wreck of a life go into a flaming crash.  And I'm not trying to manipulate sympathy because "waahhh mah life is HARD y'all!"  (I cannot believe I'm going to use this phrase I HATE IT) it is what it is.  I'm doing what I'm capable of.  

I really honestly do not drink every day.  Or even every OTHER day.  I am on a two-week hiatus because I know we are going to friends in March (remember when I dropped the cake?  Yeah, those friends) and we are taking the dogs and it is about 100* there and they have a pool and I know.  I also know I will go to bed early with the dogs and I will wake up and walk a power walk and I will eat guacamole and salsa and I will laugh and relax.  And hope the phone doesn't ring.

Yes, it's a crutch.  Yes, it has historically been an anchor tied around my neck.  I'm at the end of my rope and I am coping with all the cope I can find.  and believe me when I say that when I read that line I just typed I cringe.  But I am being honest with ME.  And just writing it helps.  Somehow.

Things I'm doing right:

  • Walk - between 20-25 miles a week.  ~18 minute mile.  I get out almost every single day.  PLUS the mile and a bit more that I walk EVERY morning with the Finks dogs.
  • Meds - I'm taking my Wellbutrin like a mofo.  Also taking magnesium and taurine because those things I need for my brain.  I found I need those particular things because I have researched the fuck out of my problems/symptoms and those things HELP.
  • Outside - I walk outside, in the sun and air (son and heir) because I NEED outside.  plus vitamin D and all that jazz.
  • Food - I'm eating the right stuff, not eating the wrong stuff.  I've maintained my 30+ pound weight loss and am gearing up to lose another 10, just to have a goal.  
  • Friends - I reach out to France a lot, and I hang out with her when I can.  This is new behavior for me, typically I retreat from social stuff when stressed.  Or when air touches me.
  • Brain - I read and research and I sometimes play Bejeweled (that game relaxes my brain for some reason, I think its the sorting?) and I do crossword puzzles and I take my meds and I exercise and I make sure I get alone quiet time every day.  All the things I need to do to not go into the cave of depression, to not flip the fuck out.
  • I have no booze in the house at this time.  I do not keep it around.  And that wasn't a conscious thing, in fact I just realized it and added it to this list.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that right now, at this point, it isn't NECESSARY to me.  
I'm doing my best.  I get out of bed every day and keep moving.  And yeah, waahh, my life IS hard right now.  Remember when I was all about 'peace' and 'tranquility' and woo-woo energy and all that?  yes well, sunrise, sunset, the big wheel in the sky keeps on moving.  I'm sure I'll find my serenity again.  Right now I'm just trying to prevent fires.  Even that fucking bear Smokey keeps telling me that only I can do it.  It's my job.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

I'll be your Huckleberry

*title of this post from the movie 'Tombstone' which is a very appropos word to this post*

My lord, y'all.  My stinking, leaping, sweet fancy Moses on a CRUTCH, y'all.

I'll tell you what.  This post is going to be brought to you by the word FUCK so if you don't want to read it, git gone.  Go read this and laugh your dang fool head off.

Remember when I said I was sick over Christmas?  Yeah.  Wait - it started back at Thanksgiving, right?  When Jeff's parents had every disgusting old person thing they could have (bless their hearts) and we went ahead and had turkey dinner there ANYWAY.  Yeah - so.  Since that time, we have seen the inside of emergency rooms and hospital rooms and nursing homes I would guess about 8 or 9 times.  Once for me.  Mostly for Jeff's parents.  TWICE for Jeff.

Here's a list of what I can remember the folks have had.  This is mostly Dad, with a few belonging to Mom, but what difference does it make?:

Prostate cancer (guess which, mom or dad?)
Grovers Disease
Edema (severe)
Intestinal blockage (he threw up feces.  IN HIS MOUTH.  Then aspirated some into his lungs.)
Passing out/falling down while NOT using their walkers in the house, or while showering, or getting out of bed, or basically anything other than being in the lazy chairs

Do you see why I am saying DEAR LORD??  fuck me.  It's been bad.  They both went in the hospital back in November, then one got out and the other stayed, then the other got home and the first one went back, then do-si-do your pardner and promenade.

(please watch that cartoon it will make you laugh)

It's been hell, and it's not even MY parents.  Dad has been in a medically induced coma for over a week (just woke him back up yesterday) with breathing apparatus all shoved down his gullet.  And Jeff isn't even the sibling who is handling it all.  That guy - the brother - deserves a medal.  I think his prize is going to be an ulcer, colitis, and extremely high blood pressure.  Just like winning a stuffed animal at the county fair!  what a prize!

SPEAKING of blood pressure:  Remember I had to take Jeff to the hospital because his BP spiked to something like 230/105?  well, just to ice the fucking CRAP CAKE, I had to call 911 last Sunday because he passed the fuck out (in the Jacuzzi) because his BP went so extremely low - honestly y'all, I thought he was dead.  He was laying on the ground and his eyes were open and his mouth was open and he wasn't THERE.  I was lightly slapping his face yelling "JEFF?  JEFF!?" and trying to lift his head and my brain was skittering around like a souped-up roomba.

I am absolutely USELESS in an emergency.  When my adrenal glands spurt out adrenaline it's like throwing a blanket over a bird cage.  My brain just exits, stage left, and I am left with *crickets crickets*.  Luckily I had my cell phone down at the pool because if I had had to leave him, run around the huge apartment complex, up the stairs and down the hall to our apartment, THEN call - well shit.  I'm still suffering PTSD about it.  Romantic hot tub failure at both the Xmas mountain cabin and again post Valentine's day.  I GET IT.  Hot tubs are right out.

[full disclosure:  I was drinking too.  YES I started drinking again.  Not like it was in Maryland, not drinking & driving, not during the week, etc etc caveat excuse.  But it's my go-to stress reliever (how's that working out for ya?  not great, thanks) and I don't feel all that bad about it, and it's tres dificil being married to an alcoholic when you are an alcoholic yourself, and anywhozle, if I can't be honest HERE with YOU, where can I be?  I'm FINE, life is still (fairly) good (aside from the crap I bitch about here), I don't keep bottles stashed under the couch, I exercise almost every day, WHAT?  Yes, I'm monitoring myself, yes I know that only alcoholics monitor themselves, I KNOW.  shitballs.  I am actually on a bye-week (bi-week?) or really 2-weeks right now.  Not drinking atall until March 1, when we are going to some friend's house in AZ.  It's not the urgent weird compulsion any more.  It's fun, on a weekend, and then *meh*.  Maybe I'm pink-clouding? or whatever.  Maybe I have my head up my ass.  At least you know I will tell y'all if it all goes south.  Some of you are like 'it's like watching a horse run into a burning barn!' and hrm.  I'm not helping myself here.]

Once he got to the hospital and they pumped fluids in him and all, he seemed fine.  They said it was just dehydration.  Like the last 3 or 4 times he's been hospitalized for passing out.  Once again, he was all about 'change my drinking habits, exercise, I swear' but hmph.  I've heard it before.  So far he's keeping to 4 beers a day (down from over a 6-pack per day).  And he went on a 4-mile walk with me on Monday.  But he hasn't made a doctor appointment for his GP yet (altho, to be fair, he called and it's pending a call back) and I just don't think he's all that interested in changing anything. 

His preference is to take a pill.  Well, he's ON blood pressure meds and this happened.  We both also have EXTREMELY itchy skin, since January.  We were afraid it was scabies, went to the doc, he said absolutely NO, not that.  So I started putting gallons of lubriderm on (I am a lotion-er anyway - my skin was dry in Maryland in 80% humidity - am Sahara desert).  It helps, I have no idea what is going on with both of us, he never itches like this.  Lotion helps me and I put it on like 5 times a day, slathering it all over.  BUT - doc said we could try Benedryl.  Which, mixed with his BP meds and his HIGH/low readings, I think is stupid.  But Jeff would rather take a pill than put lotion on his skin.  So,?  *shrug* DO WHAT YOU WANT
his favorite prescription.

I guess I have finally come to the meat of this post.

I have spent years figuring out my health problems - mental and physical.  He has seen me lose 30 - 35 (depending on the day) pounds and become a happier, more centered person.  He knows that mostly, constantly, I read websites/books about magnesium or adrenal fatigue or primal eating or fructose intolerance.  He has SEEN ME.  His parents ASK ME to research stuff for them.

(his brother, BTW, had constipation so badly the other day he was going to the ER [ha ha more ER trips.]  I suggested milk of magnesia.  He said he had taken a tablespoon and nothing.  I said DRINK IT OUT OF THE BOTTLE LIKE IT WAS TEQUILA AND THIS IS 1984.  Great fucking christ the only downside of magnesium is it MAKES YOU SHIT.  He did that and went to the ER as well.  While he was getting examined, he realized things were uh, MOVING, and he excused himself to their restroom.  Magically, the problem fixed itself right there.  JAYSUS.)

These people have seen me research crap for 5 fucking minutes using my phone, they all ask me to 'hey, GTS!' (google that shit) - they all have the interwebs right at their finger tips.  Jeff, for chrissakes, sits in front of a computer all fucking day.  But hey, don't follow my example and research your health problems.  Don't take 10 minutes out of your day and look at the Mayo Clinic website, or Cedars Sinai website.  Or even fucking WebMD.  Hell, the magnesium info I found for insomnia was on a website so hokey I wanted to shoot the author.  But that info leads to other info leads to I SLEEP AT NIGHT NOW.  But all of them would rather have a doctor "fix" them than change their nutrition.  Holy crap, this could be what is wrong with this entire country YA THINK??

[and Jeff's BIL, who I don't particularly like but whatever, got all IN MY FACE last weekend and made me cry, telling me to stop researching crap on the internet I should take the word of doctors who have 11 years of schooling why am I even talking and WTF?  that was a SCENE and Jeff actually got back in HIS face and defended me, Jeff being the most non-confrontational person ever on the planet, which made my heart go pitter-pat - I am telling you this last couple of months have been straight out of a telenovela on Spanish TV.  Dude was mad because I had some info on why maybe Dad had thrown up FECES.  In his MOUTH.  And some of the reasons were not great, but Dad is 83 and has 3 kinds of cancer, I figured we should be ready to hear it was possibly a tumor, doctors did a CT scan and said they saw a MASS so hey yo, I'm just guessing here - Jeff's sister agreed with me for fucks sakes, and this guy went off.  Jeff's brother said that this guy has a Napoleon Complex but with 'knowing stuff', if there is such a thing - which is a perfect explanation and cracked my shit up.]

I guess I could just narrow this down and say I'm fucking terrified.  I do not want to get old.  Not the kind of old that makes you a recluse.  That has you sick with a bed-side table full of pill bottles and enemas and tissues shoved up your sweater sleeve.

honestly, this totally could be my in-laws table, down to the plastic place mats.

I'm doing everything I can to make my final 20 to 30 years be as easy and fun and healthy as possible (besides vodka I know shut it).  I mean, I'm 53.  I do NOT want to live to be 100.  90 is probably my limit, and I am NOT afraid of dying!  I just don't want to linger in the hell of ER visits and pill sorter thingys and daytime tv and no life.  I mean, my own step mother, who you have all met, is in an assisted living home but still walking every day, still up and around, going to lunch, etc.

And Jeff keeps saying not to worry, he will die one of these times and I will be left with the life insurance.  NO - he will have a fucking stroke and I will be left wiping his ass and dribbling gruel down his throat.  All because he didn't take any responsibility for his own health.

I don't want Mike to have to deal with all this crap.  I know it's still possible, but if I do nothing to help myself why would HE want to help me?  And I'm not all Jack Lalanne up in this berg either.  I'm not juicing veggies and one-arm push ups and HOY!  HEALTH!  but I AM all about what works for me and what makes me feel better.  I have exactly 2 prescriptions that I take on a regular basis, one is Ambien (the magnesium helps my insomnia but nothing cures it, wtf?) and Wellbutrin which I will never be without again so help me gawd.  And I don't want any more.  I will do everything in my damned power to mitigate the aging process so that at 75 I can still go for a walk at the beach and not need a wheel chair.  Or an oxygen bottle.  That may still happen, I understand that, but I will TRY EVERYTHING I CAN to stay as healthy as I can.  Otherwise what is the point?

Oh hell, like usual I have lost my direction with this post, and I'm bored with it.  I have started the process of getting everything checked out, from soup to nuts, including the dentist (which I have an unholy terror of I haven't been to a dentist in over 10 years) because I have Jeff's health insurance right now.  If he dies before me I am so fucked.  So I need everything in order so that I am as comfortable as I can be when that happens.

I went through all of our filling and found all the mis-filed papers concerning IRAs and life insurance accounts.  So that it's at my finger tips.

I'm thinking of buying a mobile home in a park so that when I am alone I have a place to live that only costs whatever the space rent is.  I know they don't appreciate in value but it will be MINE and I will be able to afford it until I die.

These are all fucked up things that I have to think about these days.  So far 2014 is so much worse than 2010 through 2013 COMBINED,  And it isn't even March yet.