The Fat Lady Sings

Update (No I'm Not Dead [Yet])

Sorry I've taken so long to reply to anybody (about anything, really).  My health has seriously declined, I'm afraid.  I’m in constant pain, I can hardly walk – life, as I know it has become nothing more than a waking nightmare.  As for finding a good doctor.....  I live in the South, you see.  Every Doctor I've tried has dismissed my pain (refusing to look for its cause) and told me to shuffle off.  The reason?  Rather amorphous, really.  The only definite reason seems to be the weight I've gained due to being almost bed-ridden from the pain.  Evidently it makes me a dangerous patient.  As one asshole put it – “As I’m likely to die on the table – why bother treating me at all?”  One ER doc told me "go find someone willing to treat your 'kind'”.  What a prince.   

So that it seems is that.  I've one more possibility I'm looking into (in this area).  If he says no - I'm going to try and get to my friend in Chicago (money being an issue).  At least there I’m guaranteed to not be turned away.  Either that - or I'll be dead.  That's what the last Doctor said, BTW:  Either what I have is fatal and I'll be dead soon - or it's not and I'll live.  He then said he would no longer treat me for anything.

How's that for American health care?

Pray for me, my friends.  God no longer listens to me.

Misery

Sorry it's been so long since I posted anything.  I've been literally drowning in pain. Please send good thoughts this way.  The despair is daunting.  Feels like I'm suffocating in a thick sea of blackness.

I could use some kind of divine intervention right about now (or even a sympathetic soul with a caring touch).  Doesn't look like I'm likely to get either any time soon - so the positive energy will have to do.

P.S. - Sorry I haven't answered anyone's emails.  Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.  I've just been too damn sick - that, and there's precious little positive to say.  I am grateful, however.  Bless you all.

Bad Day

Today is a very bad day.  There are bad pain days – and there are days like today – days when I have to remind myself to keep breathing.  I’m alone, I’m afraid and I’m in extroadinary pain.  I’m not due for another pain med any time soon – so this just has to be endured till then.  My doctor told me to start smoking pot to help control it – but marijuana’s not legal in Georgia, he can’t just write me a prescription.  So I asked him where to go to get some, and he said try the local high school.

What a dick.  I can’t go buy pot off some kid.  That’s morally wrong.  Oh – I suppose he was being facitious.....but I need real-time help here – not stand up comedy.  Anyway.  Just one more thing to be endured.  I wonder what will happen when I reach the point of no endurance.  When the pain drives me so crazy I’ll do anything to make it stop. 

I’m afraid of that. 

Louie - RIP

My cat Louie had to be put to sleep today.  He'd become incontinent, spending all his time hiding under the bed.  He wouldn't allow himself to be touched in the best of times; sick - he'd run if you so much as looked at him.  That made treatment essentially impossible.  You had to chase him all over the house just to take him to the vet.  Grabbing hold of him to administer meds wasn't even possible.  Never once had he ever allowed himself to be picked up, cuddled or petted.  Louie was frightened of the world - and whatever paranoia that poor cat carried worsened as he grew older and his health deteriorated.  In the end - we weren't even able to treat his diabetes with medicated food.  He simply refused to eat any of it.

My husband had to bring him in alone as my physical restrictions (and unending pain) made going with impossible.  That was heartbreaking.  Louie only ever allowed me near him (he was frightened of my husband).  I wanted to be the one to hold him in my arms - to ease and comfort his passing.  The fact that I wasn't able just about slays me.  I feel terrible: hurt, angry, depressed.  For years (15 actually) I tried to help that cat become part of the family.  Behavior mods, drugs, multiple veterinarians - you name it, I tried it - all to no avail.  Then he became ill - and the choices (and time) ran out.  I lost my kitty today - and it hurts like hell

So rest in peace, sweet Louie.  If there's a heaven - I hope you're finally happy in it.   

Disapproving Birdies

 

 

  

 

It seems rabbits aren’t the only disapproving creatures in the universe.  These baby birds look mighty pissed at something, if you ask me – especially Mr. Hunchback over there on the left.  I have no earthly idea why they disapprove so mightily (or at what).  Mommy and daddy bird provide loads of nice crunchy buggies (wasps seem to be especially tasty).  Even the accommodations could be considered roomy (for five baby birdlets, that is).  So what’s the beef?

 

Every spring I am treated to swallows nesting in my porch eaves.  They are always welcome - disapproving or not!

 

Birthday Girl

 

You say it's your birthday
It's my birthday too, yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you

 

So.  Another year older – and one would hope wiser; though I don’t know by how much.  I am moving within my 5^th decade – still on the lee side, which comforts me somewhat.  I don’t like the number much.  It’s not who I am, you see.  Inside I’m very much as I was 25 years ago; in that I feel connected to what is usually reserved for the young of this world: music, activism, social networking (Hello!  I blog!!!).  Once a person hits my current age – they are supposed to no longer want or even dream – yet I do both constantly.  There’s still so much I wish to achieve.  Unfortunately (societally speaking), I’m considered too old for all that.

 

Why do we do that?  If you are rich and old – you are listened too – considered wise.  If you reach your 5^th decade without amassing millions, however – you are considered disposable.  Just so much flotsam to wash down the river.  Had you anything to offer – it would have been mined years ago.  I heard Andrew Lloyd Webber say that very thing to a thirty-year-old aspirant for the Joseph role in Webber’s latest ‘Dreamcoat’ revival.  In other words: as he wasn’t already a star – there must be something wrong with him (even if nothing ‘wrong’ is discernable).  I’ve heard the exact same thing many a time: when I was 25, then 30, then 40 – ‘what’s wrong with you?  Why hasn’t the world already beaten a path to your door’?

 

Dunno.  You could ask Susan Boyle the same question.  Only people seem to have fashioned an answer in her case: she’s not already a superstar (despite yards of talent) ‘cause she’s ‘unattractive’ (in our stick-figure, youth obsessed, cultural sense of the word).  Only the beautiful need apply.  Oh – and the young; and by that I mean teenage – because 15 has recently become the new black.  Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift, The Jonas Brothers – precocious is the word of the decade.  It’s what the ‘ought’s’ will be remembered for – too-young starlets 'sexting' their way through Hollywood’s dicey pedophilia door.  No one admits it – they just all look the other way as stylists tart up kids to look decades older.  Funny, in a way.  ‘Cause as soon as you reach the age they want you to look – you’re considered too old.

 

Anyway…..  April 24^th 2009.  Happy Birthday, me.  Know what I want more than anything else in the whole, wide world?  A stress free day.  That’s all – just a day with no drama.  An entire day in which I can fuck off and be myself: no hassles and no pain.  

 

What do you think the odds are that’s gonna happen?

Insult vs. Injury

So I’m sitting here today trying to decide if I’ll be able to make it into the doctor’s office this afternoon.  My current physical limitations leave that in doubt – as they do with any plans I might make.  Why am I going to the doctor?  Because of a rather bad fall I had several weeks back.  The back deck was slick with black ice – so my feet shot out from under me and down I went.  Now – that might not have been so bad under normal circumstances – but my multiplicity of injuries renders any slip or fall suspect.  I was really frightened.  I went down hard.  So hard, my glasses flew when my head hit, leaving me not only out of breath but blind as well.  And it was a very cold and frosty 5 am.  No one else up and about.  I’d let one of the dogs out to the bathroom, and she’d refused to come in.  I was going out to ‘encourage’ her compliance – and bam!  Down I went.

No one heard my cries for help.  I lay there in the frozen cold, screaming – and no one heard.  After about 20 or so minutes, I realized no one was coming.  If there was any rescue to be had – I had to do it myself.  So I dragged myself across the deck, into the house.  I had oodles of adrenaline acting as a crutch.  It’s the only way I could have managed it, the amount of pain I was in.  Frankly – I feared I had broken something.  The last time I had a bad fall, I went through a construction hole in our kitchen floor, shattering some bones – it was a terrible mess.  I feared something similar may have occurred this time as well.  I made it to my bed OK, (my husband finally hearing my yells once I got inside).  Nothing seemed broken.  I hurt like a son-of-a-bitch (and was bruised up like crazy) but that was all (or so I thought).

I was wrong.  Or maybe not.  Since that accident, two additional things happened that may have added to the injuries.  One came from my dog Ginger.  Now Ginger has a very bad habit of powering through any one or any thing she deems in her way.  She’s part Rhodesian Ridgeback – and they always have to be first.  It’s a breed peculiarity.  She’s actually knocked me over several times (she’s a very powerful dog).  Why do we still have her?  It’s complicated – but for one, no one else would put up with her (she’s rather ungovernable and a passel of neuroses).  For another, she’s certainly earned her keep.  Last summer she scared away some house invaders.  We’re rather out in the boonies.  Home invasions and burglaries are not all that uncommon.  So it’s important to keep an alert dog.  Our older hound is 15, has heart disease, and isn’t spry enough for that kind of thing.  Ginger is very aware of her surroundings – and she’s protective.  God help anyone trying to rob the place.  They’d never make it past her.  That gives her a huge go by.  And I’ve never given up on a critter.  Somewhere, somehow there’s a key to understanding that dog (paging Cesar Millan!).  

So she stays.  But…..there’s that ungovernable part.  Within days of my fall – Ginger slammed into me, re-injuring the leg that took the brunt of my fall.  Adding insult (and additional injury), I followed that up by dropping a very heavy casserole dish right on my foot.  End result?  My leg’s a mess, and the pain is tremendous.  Why might I not make today’s appointment particularly?  Well - we had a tornado come through last night (no damage to our house – but some of our neighbors didn’t fare quite as well) – and lil’ Miss Ginger, in an effort to find someplace safe, knocked me over once again.  Bam!  Now I’m in too much pain to even make it down the stairs and out to the car.  If that doesn’t improve (and I’m thinking it won’t) – I’ll have to postpone the appointment till next week (damn it!).  Not an ideal situation. 

*sigh*  I think I’ll just go back to bed and read. 

Cats Happen

      

 

Here you see our latest ‘cat’-tastrophe.  Kilmouski is the feline responsible – though he had the help of every one of his brothers in crime.  No creature was hurt (thank heavens) – and every ornament survived (a miracle in its own right); though I must say the poor tree looks like it has seen better days.  It’s been a while since we had critters interested in Christmas décor.  I’d forgotten the heart-pounding ‘joy’ hearing the tinkle, tinkle, tinkle of ornaments as they go rolling across the floor.

 

Santa would be proud!

Happy Turkey Day!!!

Thanksgiving at our house.  Be happy, my friends!

Finis

OK.  I surrender.  It’s over.  I can no longer maintain a rear-guard action against the pain.  Some months back I gave up fighting the use of pain medication (after years of refusal).  Now it’s the pain itself.  I am unable to defend against the relentless, moment by moment, withering assault.  At some point the wall just gives way - its defenders overrun by overwhelming odds.  I am mentally, emotionally and physically drained.  Every time I sit down to write (to think) – my body attacks.  Wave after wave of unremitting pain batters my brain till it simply closes.  I feel like I am drowning in a sea of blood and fire.  Maintaining sanity itself is exhausting. 

So fuck it.  I give up.  I do.  One day last week the pain got so bad I actually passed out for a few hours.  And I must say - outside of the fear and disorientation I experienced upon waking – that five hours of unconsciousness was the best rest I’d had in months.  Lately, I’m lucky if I can squeeze out 4 or 5 interrupted hours per night; so to sleep without waking every ½ hour from the pain (!!!).  It hardly mattered how I got there.  Oh – the pain was present for its usual just woke up greeting – but for five blessed hours I wandered dream free in the land of unconsciousness.  It was about as blissful as my life gets these days.