Friday, April 8, 2011

Day 55: Confessions for Progress.

April 8th, 2011

I'm torn into so many pieces.

HAH! As if that is a shocker coming from someone with BPD, someone that has trouble with dialectic thinking. Someone that at least.... has started in the one year program to change my life.


Living at this apartment has had its own set of challenges. I have had to adjust to really being by myself for periods of time again. I don't like it. I tend to feel confined and trapped when I can't at least sense other people around. I haven't made any friends here, and I honestly don't expect to. To be honest, I don't even have the desire to make friends most of the time.

But then, I am also thankful and happy for the friends who know, understand, and accept me for who I am, who I have been, and who I will become. Again with distinctions of separation. Before, Present, Future. 

I keep looking for how I view the world, and I put everything into a distinction. A filing system. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. And even though 1 and 2 are different, 1 and 2 can equal 3, and 3 is always three. Every piece while distinct, is still true of itself. But there are still fractions and decimals, and while 1.2 or 2.1 are neither 1 or 2, they are still true pieces of 1 and 2.

The trick is to reconcile that truth and not fight it. I don't know how to do that yet. I think I've obviously overthought the entire issue. I have no idea if it's even possible to follow with what just verbally spewed through this dark keyboard, but it wasn't meant for anyone but me.

Normally I erase when I write insights to myself. It's hard, wanting to be completely open, but feeling the strong need for censure. Not just for me, but for other people's sakes.

I so badly want to integrate the pieces of me into one reconciled being.


This week has proven to be full of developments.


I'm fairly certain I have written previously about the assessment, and pre-treatment assessment that I went through for the study on Dialectal Behavioral Therapy for women with Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD who self-harm or have suicidal ideation. That is a mouthful, but I land in the category. What a double edged sword. I absolutely detest that I can say that I land in that category, but then glad also that I do, because I actually feel as though I have a chance to get the true help that I avidly desire.

On the plus side, I got $20 for spending hours upon hours devastatingly disecting some of the most traumatic events that have ever happened to my life and the effects of them on my actions.

Bought myself Fast Food. Yes Buddy. Nothing like the taste of greasy and unhealthy food to get the emotional juices flowing! Of course, in addition I also was accepted into the year long program, and subsequently introduced to I'm hoping the best therapist I could have asked for.

At our first meeting (only last wednesday) I made a series of profound promises. Profound for me.

1. I would buy popsicles. Lots of popsicles, whos purpose is to focus attention in times of frustration when I would normally start self-harming. Most people don't know I do that- usually because I do it in ways that most people don't think of. The most visualized form of self harm is cutting. I don't do that. Not since I was 17. It's hard to admit it's been 10 years. But most people know that I pick at scabs. What they don't know is that most of the times, the wounds I'm scabbing from I created myself.

2. I would no longer self-harm. I have no idea how I am going to be able to not do this for a year. It's almost second nature, and have had to already stop myself a multitude of times realizing what I was about to or in the process of doing. The popsicles have helped a lot. Reading books has helped a LOT. Anything really that keeps me from being emotionally charged in a negative level.

3. For the next year, absolutely no attempts at suicide. I found this both hard and easy to promise to. I do not generally want to die. Both times I have made an aggressive attempt at ending my life were under fairly extreme circumstances of extreme inner turmoil. I have never made a "look at me I'm hurting." type of suicide attempt, I have only attempted suicide with the motive to die. I have made one other passive suicide attempt-- stopping my medications. While I know I would not just keel over from stopping them, I also know the weakness of my immune system and my body, as witnessed by immediately getting an intense case of shingles, which spread into meningitis- and coming down with a respiratory infection after that. But I don't know the future, and I feel hesitant to make that promise. Maybe I just wanted to reserve the right to say whether my life is worth living or not- Either way I did promise to not kill myself, so I WILL live to be 28.

4. I promised to go back on my slough of medications. There is part of me that has been badgered by many people that my decision to relinquish the medical system I have been entrenched in for the almost last 5 years is not only bad, but completely irresponsible and bordering on reprehensible. For quite a few people it is unconscionable that I should refuse the western medical system when it "has worked so well for me." And while I do not deny that I am better off alive than dead (at least 7 out of 10 times I'd say), I am also left with the quality of life and movement that makes it hard to appreciate being alive. I want to, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't have continued to seek out the program. At the same time it is difficult to say anything I feel with a 100% clarity of conviction in any specific direction.

5. I would buy ice, and a bowl, and when I am overwhelmed, to literally dunk my face in ice water. I have done this at least twice already since wednesday, and the effect, I'm sure, has been the desired one because the overwhelming emotion disappears in a matter of moments, replaced by an extremely cold face, and a wet hairline. It is hard, to force yourself to put your face in a bowl of ice water. I think that lends in part to its effectiveness. You have to focus on a number of different things and none of them are glaring raw emotion.  Before my mom left today, I put a bowl of icewater next to my bed, because if it isn't in front of me, the chances of me thinking about it in the throes of emotional upheavel are like my dog suddenly sprouting elephant ears and performing circus acts. Such was the case last night, my mom thankfully coming to my aid and bringing up the ice bowl while I was lingering on an extreme emotional cusp.


I know I am going to be a sloppy mess for awhile. Even today mom and I had an argument, when just last night I surprised her with an 'unbirthday' since I had been in too much pain to do anything but stay in bed. I had run out of every last bit of my pain meds, and no matter how much I had twisted it out from the beginning of February this last week, the taper was still too fast after having been on them for far too long. Not to mention I am just flat in pain. Those two elements do not lend for a very mobile or happy Maria. No, not a happy Maria indeed.

Last night was worse than many- today I even got ahold of my therapist for some extra coaching I guess it's called. It helped at the time to know she is there for me. She responded quickly to my text. I wonder if she knows part of the reason I texted her was just to see if she is real- I mean, if she really does mean to stick with me for the year.... I'm so afraid to trust her, but she made it so easy. I see her again next Wednesday, and I have no idea how that is going to go. I'm not ready to write about last night quite yet.

I have a million feelings brewing about the topic, but... in the meantime...


I bought a NookColor from Barnes and Noble. I absolutely ADORE that I can listen to Pandora while I read. I have spent a vast majority of today reading and listening to classical piano. Ok. I am done writing. I want to keep reading about how the handsome king squares off with the evil-doers and then makes sweet sweet looooooove to his new queen. HA. Romances. *chuckle*

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Day 42: The Power of Keys

March 26th, 2011


We signed the lease today. *teehee*

And subsequently spent the rest of the day and evening packing our abundant amounts of shit up. In the same amount of time my mom packed and tore down the living room, dining, room, and kitchen- I got half of my room done. Pathetic. I have lots of excuses, mostly concerning my hip, shakiness, not being able to breath, etc. etc. etc, but they are all boring.

Mom ordered pizza and we took a break talking outside while she had a cigarrette.

That is, until Connie and Mark showed up on their way to Blaine with their oldest grandson in tow. I think he's like 6 or 7. Cute as a button, and sweeter than sugar. After they left I think mom and I spent another hour and a half talking before we were both exhausted on the topic, and I don't think that has stopped either of our minds on it, just got us sick and tired of voicing our theories on the topic.

We go back and forth on whether there is deliberate action, or whether it is merely coincidental inconsiderate idiocy. We both agree that apologies need to be made. Either way, I'm sick and tired of the specifics and am not going to write an entire blog about it.


Holy crap! Dancing with the Stars! Generally speaking I really can't stand most of the talent shows. I don't care whether it's American Idol, America's Best Dance Crew, America's Got Talent, Dancing With The Stars, or any other caller based voting reality show. But how good was Kirstie Alley? I mean Really! I was pleased by her performance and it was easily one of the best of the entire night. I mean who doesn't like a good butt slapping and boob lifting in the middle of a Cha-Cha? *chuckle* She did us big girls proud. I might actually watch this season, what with Chris Jericho on it as well. It's amazing how short he is in real life. Shorter than I am, although I find most people I come across to be so. Without the Y2J girly hair he is even dare-I-say handsome. Ok, I dare to say it. He's HANDSOME!! But not as handsome as my husband of course... *wink*

On a whole I can't even stand Kirstie Alley. Perhaps I should rephrase. I can not stand Kirstie Alley when she opens her mouth. Thankfully when she is dancing she isn't talking, and when she finishes she is too tired to talk. Her dancing, however, I enjoyed. So good for her!


Geraldine Ferraro lost her battle with blood cancer today. Sucks. Hits home anytime I hear that someone died from blood cancer. Hits home hard. It's not lost on me how lucky I am to be alive.

My luck to be alive, however, does not mean I should let the world walk all over me and be happy about it. It just means that I know more than many folks what it means to truly and honestly be thankful for my life, which makes wanting to end it so devastating and guilt causing.



I've been getting to chat with my husband almost daily for the last several days. I am sure fellow military spouses and significant others can appreciate with me how great it is to be able to share some words when they are overseas. Many more spouses and significant others can appreciate what it's like to miss that person you love- especially when they are potentially in harms way. There is a constant grating on the nerves of worry that you won't ever hear from them again, or that someone will show up on your door with an "I'm sorry ma'am." Just thinking about the reality of the fear is enough to almost put me in tears. Then again I'm incredibly emotional. Up, down, in, out, I'm not sure whether I'm original or crispy recipe right now.


I AM READY TO MOVE TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

These keys were made for unlocking! And my new apartment is just WAITING to be unlocked tomorrow! Besides unpacking, I will have retail therapy to do tomorrow! And while I never really got a good feeling from shopping before, I do admit I enjoy a little economic support session now and then. Now the real question is whether mom will go half and half with me on a big screen t.v. for the living room? Hrm? HRM?

Or perhaps it would be beneficial to buy myself a workdesk? HRM? Who knows. All that is to be figured out tomorrow.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Day 41: More Pillows

March 25th, 2011

Fizzle is trying to suffocate me I swear. Any time I am about to talk, or type, she comes up and lays down on my chest, which is getting phlegmy. I am not a fan of having a hard time breathing or coughing up phlegm.

I fell asleep chatting with my husband, and woke up to drag queen's saluting the troops on t.v. I was extremely confused until I realized it was RuPaul's Drag Race. For those who haven't seen it- it amuses me. Greatly. Especially after yesterday and last nights marathon of The Real Housewives of New York.

I beaded my little heart out yesterday and today I just need a break. I guess. My best friend Tana taught me about beading on felt, and yesterday I was seriously struck with inspiration. I beaded until almost 4 a.m. I know my mom woke me up to take my meds at 6 a.m. but I have no recollection of it. There is a LOT I am finding that I'm not remembering lately and it is starting to scare me. I am glad that I was accepted into the psych study. I want to be emotionally and physically healthy for my husband- but if I can't be physically healthy, I at LEAST want to be able to deal with the stressful situations that will come up instead of reaching into darkness.

I have been completely out of it since Wednesday and the in-person interview. Today mom and I went to the bank to get money together for our new apartment we are moving into this weekend. I have no recollection whatsoever of handing her the bank card. None. At the gas tank I felt like I was watching myself. I am going completely crazy. CRAZY.


I almost have to change the channel this episode. Almost. I can only stand so many puns on being a transvestite and the name RuPaul before I want to pull my hair out. Condragulations, I already want to rip the skin off my shoulder to make it stop twinging, and now I want to rip out my hair. And honey, I've been growing this hair for almost three years.


Like I said to the interviewer on Wednesday when she asked, "Sometimes I feel like fighting leukemia and the left over effects has always been my life, and sometimes I feel none of it ever happened."

I've been able to walk lately- It's taken all the way until today to feel like I am nearing alright again after mom and I went out geocaching last, Yesterday I barely had to take any pain killers, and today as well. Really just when I'm being really active. Of course that's the way it started, pain with every step and just escalated from there-- but the fact it's getting back to that (at least close to that) really makes me feel like progress is being made in that area. I know the gabapentin is more to thank than the physical therapy exercises I do. I am usually in so much pain after I do those stupid exercises. Fuck them, I'm not doing them today.


Brain is still bouncing around. Feeling withdrawal effects. My hip is just... fucking rawr. I guess I should mention I write these entries either really fast, or over a matter of many many hours. This one is taking quite a few hours for me to write. I can't seem to focus on one specific thing. I can't even pick up the beading I was doing yesterday. I can't stay focused on the t.v. I can't focus on the blog, I'm feeling static in my head.

It's not the same ol' brainfog like after treatment, this feels like static. FRUSTRATION.


Besides the frustration how happy am I to be moving? SUPER HAPPY! It's not the original place we had worked with obviously-- that fell through at the beginning of the week, but yesterday mom and I went apartment hunting and found a place we can live with. Really I think she just bent to my will- Mom is horrible about doing that, but I appreciate it all the same. Who doesn't like getting their way? Especially when there are extremely valid arguments for what you want?

The apartment itself is a bit smaller, it is set up differently, but the complex and its amenities are fabulous. Indoor and outdoor pools, sauna, spa, racquetball, full sized basketball court. It's all going to be great. It's all going to be great. It's all going to be great. It's all going to be great. Right?



I need more pillows.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Day 39: A Positive Mind

March 23rd, 2011

So much has happened today. So much and not much at the same time. I feel confused. Blurred. Just out of whack.

Today was really hard for me. I've been dreading today, with a kind of morbid fascination of how I would be able to handle it. I had my in-person interview to be part of the study protocol for therapeutic treatment of women who self-harm or attempt suicide with Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD. Unfortunately I qualify with flying colors. In the interview today, over five hours I answered questions about events that have happened in my life and how I have dealt with them.

It's not easy to answer questions about events that have brought so much pain that you don't even want to live anymore. It's hard to explain feeling that way, and not succumb to the depths of the feeling itself. At least it is hard for me.

The altercation with my dad, being raped, going crazy, attempting suicide, getting sick, almost dying without choice, medical uncertainty, betrayals, emotion disregulation- how often, how many times, when, where, what color.... answer these questions, what's the meaning of lugubrious? Hell if I know what it meant, but I could spell it.

That's beyond the point. The point is just that I feel overwhelmed right now. Overwhelmed, and like I don't want anything to do with anyone. I'm bouncing being depressed and suicidal, more depressed than suicidal. And then I feel ashamed. And then guilty, and then unworthy- and then a failure, and back to depressed and suicidal. I still have wine, but I'm not going to try and cure my depression with a depressant. That's just stupid. It was nice yesterday- at least until mom got home and then I just felt angry and annoyed and frusrated again.

It's not her fault that the building changed their mind after a week. So my anger at her is irrational. But I just get SO angry. I feel so... everything above already, and then to be told that I'm not good enough to be even added to a bank account, I'm not good enough to even get a key to a building that they will 'still allow me to be an occupant in'. How do you deal when you already have all of the feelings of worthlessness and of being a failure and then am dealt that blow too?

And I know the answer is 'You just keep going.' And that's what I'm doing. I'm just keeping going.

**pout** But I don't want to. I don't want to deal with ANYTHING. **pout**


Jeremy Morlock was sentenced to jail for murder for the next 24 years of his life for killing an Afghani civillian for sport. Sport. It just... sucks. To hear someone you knew as a kid of being involved in something so heinous is just frightening. Just like hearing about my high school friend Clayton being charged with murdering his daughter- I cannot fathom that he would or could do such a thing. Never intentionally at least- And I wish I could ask him what happened- I wish I could tell everyone that there is no way the Clayton I knew could ever hurt anything, let alone a baby girl. His baby girl. Or my dad's old best friend-- what he did to his wife. I cannot fathom the true atrocities that people do.

Or to hear about my mom's ex-boyfriend stabbing his next girlfriend with a box cutter. I thank God for sparing my mother that pain, and ask Him at the same time why we all have to endure the trials we are faced with.

Being beaten, shot, stabbed, raped, diagnosed with leukemia- How is it decided who should endure what? I am reminded of the saying that God doesn't give you what you can't handle. I disagree. I find he often gives people things they cannot handle. If they could handle it, there would be no murder or suicide. People would not give up all hope. Or those that gave it all up, would be saved. Isn't that also what is said? Give it all to Him, and you will be saved.

Obviously I'm feeling some intense anger towards "The Big Librarian in the Sky."


I am simultaneously angry with Him, and understanding. I know that there are things that I will understand that so many people will not. There are people that I can help just by understanding what they are feeling, or by sharing the many things that I think or feel. I know that somewhere, someone thinks, "Me Too." And in that way, that's how I'm coping.

Not just keeping going. I'm trying to turn my anger into something positive. A negative plus a negative is a positive. A positive added to a positive equals a positive.

If only I could approach everything with a positive mind.


Charlie Sheen kissing Jimmie Kimmel made a black ex-con freak out about being homosexual? Well that's not something I expected to learn tonight. Go figure.

Too bad we can't blame Charlie Sheen's crazy behavior on the nuclear reactor in Japan.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Day 38: Wine and McDonalds

March 22nd, 2011

Our new apartment managers call us a week later after approving us to move in and say that I'm not approved.


You took my $40, said "Yes! You are Approved!" filled out a bunch of paperwork, and everything was fine for a week. And then they changed their mind? After a week? And then I have mom, sitting there like "well I was still approved, so we can still move in, you just can't have a key to get in the building." HUH?

And WHY would I choose to live in a building I can't even enter? No. No. No. No. No.

Get our deposit back, count our losses, and we'll find somewhere else to go.


I am so mad at my mom right now. I am SO MAD AT HER. I am mad that she brought me here, mad that I had to get rid of my animal children, mad that I have nowhere but here to be, and I am about ready to be done with it.

I've got $3k in my pocket. I have a car outside. Fuck all of this. I don't even care about all of the stuff I have here. Pack a bag, load up the animals, and find somewhere warm.

Who am I kidding, there's nowhere for me to go anyway. Noone wants me and my animals so what's the fucking point.


I just got back from QFC and McDonalds. I'm drinking wine and eating french fries. I can't decide whether this is the bomb, or whether it's so sad I want to cuddle under my blanket and sleep.

The McFlurry may have been a bit too much. Yeah. Yeah. I really should have known better than that. I find I make a lot of questionable judgements on impulse. Although to those people around me that is no surprise. It's not even surprising to me, but it still feels weird to admit to myself in black and white.


I've spent the last four hours nibbling on the rest of my McDonald's and drinking the bottle of wine I bought at QFC. Feeling caged. Trapped. A little drunk. I suppose the equivalent of a bottle or more of wine (I bought a BIG bottle) will do that. It's been three months since I've had anything to drink, I guess I forgot. Although as quickly as I feel a little buzzed, it goes away again. I feel like I'm chasing the buzz and that's SO annoying. It's moments like this I would just like a shot glass and some Tequila Rose. BAM. Yes. That would achieve the drunk I have been looking for. Of course I'm also afraid to drink, hence the reason I've been eating the whole time and not actually getting the drunk feeling.


I must be an obnoxiously bad person. Because as soon as something good happens, something bad happens just as quick.


I should take my own advice and look at the positives in my life.

1. I'm alive. I'm constantly in unbelievable amounts of pain (literally, most people don't believe me), sick, and likely looking at killing myself by not taking 95% of my medications, but hey, I'm alive right now, and apparently that's all that counts in this category.

2. I'm loved. By my husband who is thousands of miles away in a foreign country doing his duty for our country, however backwards our country is at times. We have freedom, but that freedom isn't free. By my mother who will do anything for my well-being, even if it means she gets minimal sleep or is broke as a joke. By my Kai-Guy, Fizz-Kitty, and Qari-Bug who never let me down and always are willing to cuddle with me when I'm having a bad day, especially if food is involved. By my best friends; DeeDee, Tana, & Halee in particular, who have been there for me through thick, thin, and all the in-between, and have unflinchingly given of their time when I was in need of them. By my father, who loves me, even if he's about as great at showing it as I am at calling the people I care about. By my brother. By other people who think they love me, but really don't know what loving someone like family (by my definition) means.

3. I'm cared about. By the people who love me, the people who think they love me, and by people who hate me who care enough about me to attempt to stalk me.

4. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, and clothes on my back.

5. I have miscellaneous creature comforts. A netbook, cable, a wii, a dsi, art supplies, an almost empty wine bottle, etc.

6. I... uhhh... fuck it.

MMmmm McNuggets.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Day 37: I *will* hit 'publish'

March 21st, 2011

I bought colored sharpies today. I couldn't help myself. I have so many art inspirations that I am not able to pursue. I REALLY REALLY REALLY wish I had my scrapbook stuff. I miss having all of my craft things. I feel like I have to start over. I feel like that's what I've had to do here, over and over again, start over.

I am so excited for mom and I to be moving to our own apartment in Renton. Next weekend! Unfortunately almost all the costs will fall on my shoulders, but that's what I get for being the driving force in getting out of this current residence. There is nothing wrong 'per se' with the domicile itself. It is just the circumstances that surround it. The owners and landlords of this house are my mom's close friends, which has put so much strain on their friendship since I was brought back to Washington. My mom was right to bring me back to Washington with her. I know in my heart that had she left me there, I would have attempted to kill myself again, and I would have succeeded.

It was inevitable that strain would be placed on their friendship when they insisted that only one animal come back with me. One? No. Sorry. I understand that they had needed at one point to rescue their daughter from a bad situation and the one animal rule was enforced, but this is not the same situation. I was not rescued from a bad marriage. My husband and I are still very much in love and in a committed relationship- we have animals together. I am not going to just get rid of our cat that has been with us almost as long as we've been together (10+ years), and I'm not going to get rid of my chihuahua who my mom calls "her grandpuppy". That right there is two. In addition, I am not going to get rid of my other cat that I nursed back to health from 2 weeks of age who suckles on my lip. And how am I not supposed to get upset giving my great dane to a rescue after having her for over two years and spending thousands of dollars on her(total)? It's merely impossible. I am not their daughter. I am my mother's daughter, and I am so thankful for that it is almost ridiculous.

There have still been many times here that I have wanted to kill myself. Even today the desire to just not exist still crosses my mind. I get tired of the pain. Not only in my hip, but now in my shoulder and neck as well. I get tired of being alone. I get tired of being trapped in my room when my mom isn't here.

My mom and I joked yesterday at Wal-Mart. I said how I was excited and crazy and I was going to decorate my room like a 14 year old girl. She said that fit for me. It was like a dagger. I feel like a 14 year old girl. I'm 27 years old now, but I am trapped at home unless my mom drives me somewhere. I don't even get to go to school. I am controlled by my body's limitations, my emotional stability, and my doctor's suggestions. I am stranded in my own imaginary isolation ward, with three furry companions.

The whole suicide subject came up because of an interaction I saw on facebook last night. Someone made a comment to my best friend that, in my view and opinion, was not only pointless, but unnecessary and inflammatory. The rude comment sparked a lot of anger in myself, as well as my best friend. The situation didn't end the best, and as such I don't want to spark a new flame to it- only to say that when it is obvious someone is having a bad day (such as is stated in that specific status) it is completely counterproductive and pointless to make a statement that in no way comforts or enhances the situation in a positive light.

The person that made the pointless comment, is the same person that told me last November the late night and early morning before seriously trying to kill myself that while I had a bone marrow donor, noone was there for an ex-friend of mine. Which was the same ex-friend who I had pulled every string I could to get the money to fly her and her animals to Texas and for their vet bills, and who my brother married so she could have medical benefits for herself and her unborn child because he cared about her. The same ex-friend that treated me like shit the whole time she was in Texas, and wouldn't do anything, except to say "I was going to do that" any time I already started doing something, despite the fact I was on a shitload of morphine and in craptons of pain. But hey, she was pregnant, so that trumps everything right? Maybe if she didn't shit on everyone that was there for her, she'd have more people to support her??

I don't have any sympathy for her, not after all the lying she did to me, the lying and using she did, the continous lying she has continued to do- Pity party for one. She would have had everything she needed but she chose to screw that all up for herself by treating me like crap and talking shit to her friends, WHILE she talked shit about them to ME! HAH!

You know, I lived with her sister for months and not once wanted to kill myself. After one month of being around my ex-friend I was in the ICU. And while I was in the ICU, she was on facebook saying "she hoped she didn't get kicked out." Kicked out by WHOM? My husband who was and is overseas fighting for her right to be a completely obnoxious lying BITCH? Yeah. Especially since I had never said one word about kicking her out. I had told her that I was moving to Washington, and I didn't care if she chose to stay here or go back to Alaska after her best friend had written a malicious comment on a status of mine. I also talked to my brother in the morning about him and her taking over the lease, but since she never talked to him she wouldn't know that, because at that point, she had already lied to shelters and law enforcement saying I was kicking out a 6 month old pregnant woman who didn't have any place to go. And having a cop come to my front door and tell me that I couldn't kick her out (when I had not said a FUCKING word about that) was my last straw. She broke me right then. Congratulations Ex-Friend. You are a complete douche.

WOW. That felt good to get out of my system.

Excuse me while I attempt to compose myself.


So I sent boxes to my husband and my brother today. I know my husband does, but I hope my brother appreciates it.

I'm just surrounded by negative energy right now. Negative. Negative as in the opposite of positive. I don't understand why everyone expects me to be positive all of the time. I mean really? Is that even possible if you aren't a Stepford Wife?



Ok, I'm positive again. I'm going to play with my colored sharpies now.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Day 23: To Go or Not To Go.. To Court..

March 7th, 2011

This weekend I received a noticed from the Municipal Court of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. It is a summons to appear in court on the fifteenth of March, to explain why I did not appear in court on the 24th of February. I can explain that right now.

I had absolutely no idea I was supposed to BE in court on the 24th.

I have been waiting for weeks for a notice of some sort for a court date that I knew was going to come, but I have not received anything whatsoever. Well, until this notice. Oh yeah, and I cannot leave state when I have IV infusions every 8 hours for Meningitis.

"So what are you going to do Maria?" I don't have any effing clue. Mom looked online on legalzoom, and of course there were no matches for my case. Go figure. I should call JAG, but there is just a huge part of me that doesn't want to deal with JAG. I'm so... scared of them.

Stupid I know, but it's true. Plus I don't want to have to drive all the way down to Ft. Lewis. I don't want a lot of things, but I guess what I want is pretty much out of the question anyways so I better just buck up for this one.

I mean seriously, I'm being charged with a misdemeanor for flipping someone the bird and calling her a crazy fucking bitch after she freaks out on us (Tana and Myself) for parking in a handicap parking spot (which I happen to have a permit for) in the Wal-Mart parking lot of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. She was completely the aggressor, but of course because SHE happened to be an off-duty police officer, I'm up shit creek without a paddle.

Can we say abuse of power? Come on, say it with me! "A-bee-yoos uh-f Pow-wer"


On another note, I am at home. I came home on Saturday after going to Radiology to receive a PICC line. A PICC line is actually a "Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter". Basically it is an IV that reaches to your heart. The difference between the one I have and a normal PICC line, is that regularly a PICC line would be placed in a person's arm. Mine, however, is placed right under my collar-bone in the subclavian vein. This is because the chemotherapy and bone marrow transplant have pretty much screwed my arm veins and none of them were viable to put a line through.

So they sent me home Saturday, and set me up with a home-health nurse. She came to the house at about 8:30 p.m. Saturday night and showed me how to use this IV system. She also brought with her all of the IV medications I would need until today when my Monday nurse would be here.


Today my nurse *D showed up at 10:30 a.m. She took my vitals, drew blood, and went through the check of systems. Then she chit-chatted with us for a little while and went on her way.


OH! Yesterday mom and I went and ran a bunch of errands, and I ended up buying girl scout cookies, and as a birthday gift to myself I also bought the new Pokemon game, White version as well as the official strategy guide. So far I am greatly enjoying it, and it has let me escape reality WONDERFULLY.


The problem with all of this happening right on top of each other, is that my emotional response becomes out of control. For whatever reason, I can't keep myself together. I become extremely agitated and defensive.

I hate that I am putting so much on mom's plate. I know that we are working together on this, but so much is being put on her plate, because of the fact that I can't seem to hold it together. She recognizes it though, and knows that I would take control of it if I could. It feels like such a load of crack considering I seem to be able to type about it calmly, but it's like watching myself. I can't stop it when it starts happening, and it's like my mind goes somewhere else and some other part of me takes over spitting out venom in all directions.


I woke up at 10:26 p.m. After mom left for work I couldn't keep my eyes open. My 2 p.m. infusion just put me to sleep. It was SO hard to stay awake until the end of it. I fell asleep repeatedly, and am so thankful for my alarm.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Day 20: Look Ma! I'm a Pincushion!

March 4th, 2011

EARLY in the a.m. Bachary (the male student nurse) performed his first IV. On me. In one stick. He is a superstar.

Very sweet, very concentrated, very concerned that he was hurting me at all. Not fussing with only the showy superficial veins you can see through the skin easily (that it seems SO many go for because apparently noone teaches people how to stick by touch anymore). He found the one he wanted, tested it, and followed through. It wasn't perfect, he was obviously very nervous but he did a great job. I've had a lot of IV's, I've had 3 successful IV's and I'm not even sure how many unsuccessful attempts. I know I've got bruises all over my arms and hands.


Later on in the a.m. when I woke up from one of my many night-time hourly naps between vitals or blood draws, or hanging a new dose of IV antivirals, I was actually able to look side to side and up and down without feeling the intense stiffness in my neck. Still feeling pain through my collarbone and shoulder, but I'll take the small accomplishments.


Everyone complains that my room is too hot, but I'm comfortable! It's set at 80*F in my room. Or at least it was, now it is set at 72*F and I'm getting seriously cold. The Texas heat ruined me. I like it hot.


I am starting to write my book. At least that is giving me a focus for right now.


The draft was saved at 3:00 p.m. I fell asleep and then slept until Dr. Chung woke me up at my bedside. He is handsome, no lie. Somehow I am blessed with a bevy of handsome doctors. I almost feel like I have my own little harem of hot doctors. *chuckle*

He asked me how I felt about going home today. I told him how I felt depended on what it was going to take to make sure I didn't get sick again. (Howler is just going and going and I am swiftly losing my patience with it. Stroke or no, he can have a LITTLE conscientiousness about the rooms adjacent to him and quit howling ALL THE TIME). Truth be told I'm nervous about going home. I always get nervous about leaving the hospitol.

Basically he went over what Dr. Eeny had said. I would need a PICC line. I've had one before, but that doesn't make me excited for another. I told him that I would have to get ahold of my mom.


I feel like such a little kid, always having to say "I have to call my mom," or having to tell people I live with my mom, or always having to have my mom there. I don't just have to, I also choose to. She is my best friend besides being my mom, and my biggest supporter. She has been with me through everything. Even when we were estranged she was there for me as much as I would let her be. Do I want to be living with my mom? I love being with my mom, I love living with my mom, I love my mom. She accepts me for who I am, and knows when I am upset to not take me personally, even if it's hard.


After Dr. Chung left, I fell asleep again until Dr. Eeny came in. He affirmed that the plan was for me to get a PICC line tonight, and be discharged in the morning. Well! Goodness! Ok!

So I called my mom, left her a message knowing she was busy at work, and all of a sudden, in walked a nurse letting me know they were there to do my PICC line. Right then! AH HAH! Hah. hah. hrm. ok. I went with it. I told them before how my first PICC line after months of use the skin became infected at the entry site and they were going to insert one in my left arm, but there was no appropriate vein.

They decided they would check, I have no problem with that. They found one they thought would work, got everything set up, and then SHA-BAM! The vein disappeared. Yep. And there is no vein on the right apparently right now either that is appropriate. So, I am S.O.L. on a PICC line for now. A little bit glad, hopefully my mom can be here with me tomorrow when we find out what is going to happen next. Tomorrow is Saturday, so are we going to have to wait until Monday? Who knows.

What I do know, is that I need...

CHRIST! I almost had a massive breakdown heart attack. The nurse was leaving my room and I looked up at the news right as they said a soldier's name and rank who just died overseas. The soldier held the same rank and last name as my husband, and that is all that I heard. My heart dropped to my knees since that was the end of the segment. I didn't hear where it happened, or what the full name of the soldier was. I googled it immediately, obviously if it was on the news it would come up- and it did. Thankfully it was not my husband, but my heart still hurts for the soldiers family and friends.

I have no idea what I was going to say before that just happened. I've reread above and I still have no idea what I was going to say I need. All I can think about is my husband right now, and it is very hard for me to do much of anything. I get very sad, lonely, scared, frustrated, upset, did I mention scared? Not only for his well-being, but for mine, for our future. I don't feel full of hope right now. I feel kind of empty. I feel like I'm a dancer in an elaborately choreographed ballet. I feel like I'm stuck in the middle of a solo dance, and even know I know my partner is backstage, I can't reach him, and the spotlight is blinding me. Spinning wildly. Chaos.

I'm not sure how but that brougth me full circle in thought to Dr. Eeny. I am off isolation restriction. There's a small part of my mind doing the happy dance.

I'm sorry, I'm just not in the mood to type anymore. The fear of that news broadcast took a lot out of me. I think I just want to sleep now. Hope for happy dreams.

Day 19: Meningitis Anyone?

March 3rd, 2011

I'm hoping to get out of isolation restriction within the next couple of days.

I've been in the hospitol now for a little while, somehow it feels like I've always been here. I wonder if I ever actually leave or if those are just dreams?

Yesterday morning they performed a lumbar puncture in order to check my spinal fluid. Preliminary results showed white cells were in fact in my spinal fluid. The doctor tells me, "Meningitis". What can be done for it? Exactly what they are already doing to clear up the shingles that my body can't seem to get ahold of on it's own.

I've spent most of today sleeping, just naturally sleeping. It felt really nice to not be woken up every few hours.

This morning at some ungodly hour I was woken up by my nurse Charlotte who was very sweet over the speaker in my room. I was in the middle of REM sleep, In my dream, I had just been shot and had fallen to the pavement outside a store. In my dream, I heard my name, "Maria, Maria, Maria, Maria," like the vibrating sound of an Angel about to tell you that you can finally quit suffering. Then I woke up, and realized the voice was coming from the speaker above my bed. And i was, indeed, in the Hospitol.


Emotionally I am having a very hard time not feeling bitter. This morning I was very down. I've felt a mixture between feeling completely hopeless, and then absolutely detached, and then accepting, and then back to feeling hopeless.

I feel like everytime I make a breakthrough, every single time I feel like I am making progress towards my life goals, I get SLAMMED back. And people tell me "this is just a curveball, you'll get around it!". Of COURSE I'll get around it, but what next? What is going to happen next time? All I can say is something GREAT better be happening this year. I am hoping this is leading to something good.

That this is serving another purpose that I just don't know yet.


I just got up to use the restroom. This infusion of meds was started a little while ago, and my arm has felt funy since it started. I ignored it, and I have been keeping the lights off in my room because of the extreme sensitivity to light that I am having. Well, it's got a nice huge lump going on, and I'm not entirely happy about it.

I used the call button, and told them that my IV is blowing. I've had this IV since the first of March, and it is almost the fourth.

The nurse that came in wasn't my nurse. It wss a black male student nurse, whose name I cannot remember. Bachary? Thackery? Zachary? Something like that. What I know Is that he took a look at it, and I still had to point out the huge hard, growing in size lump that is continuing to grow in my arm. Somehow, I don't think it's a good thing.


On another note, my room borders a poor guy who had a really bad stroke (at least that's all I've been told). He gets frustrated, and so he starts yelling. Or rather, howling. If he isn't howling, his music is loud. Loud and extremely annoying. Right now, he seems to be having an issue as well, He's howling. And it's not helping my mood with my arm.

I do not want to explode on these people.

I can stay in control of my emotions and my reactions.


Why do they say "Get involved in your healthcare" when they don't want you involved?

I'm effing pissed.


God bless my mother, who is stopping by McDonald's on her way home from work to bring me two cheeseburgers and a coca-cola. The sad thing is, I'm not hungry. Not in the slightest bit. Just thirsty as crap. I have downed over four liters of fluids in the last few hours.


I don't know why my arm doesn't hurt when it is obvious that the IV is infiltrating. The nurse just came in, she apologized for taking so long, but took only a couple of looks at it and stopped the IV. A new one will have to be started because the medication is a must-have. Meningitis doesn't mess around, and I don't want to mess around with my brain. I happen to love my brain. As should everyone.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Day 12: Taxes, A Rashy Thing, & Homicide.

February 24th, 2011

How does each day feel like a multitude of days all wrapped into one? Every three hours feels like it's own day full of it's own seperate triumphs and trials.

Right now on Pandora- Philip Wesley playing 'Tears of the East'. Solo Pianist. I like.

I went to sleep I think around 11 p.m. or so last night. I didn't wake up until around 11 a.m. and that was only by my mother's gentle prodding. It's like I never quite get enough sleep. I feel constantly half awake. Sometimes like I'm standing behind or beside myself.

That being said, at around 1 p.m. I got it into my head to make a foray into independance!

Yesterday I *liked* Redbox on my facebook page. Well, that gave me a code that would work only today for a free movie at Redbox. Knowing there is a redbox less than a mile away at a 7-11, I decided I was going to go MYSELF, and get this movie.

The perfect timing of this? Mom was in the shower and couldn't stop me :P I let her know I was going and what I was doing of course, to just charge out the door would have been SO horrible. I did a similar move to my sister on our road trip from Texas to Washington. After our wonderful (said with sarcasm) interaction with the local police in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, we stayed a couple of nights in Albuquerque. The choice was a hard one, because it put us so far behind in our travel schedule (which we were already behind), but to be in a small space with both of us having tension and frustration and anger and confusion, not necessarily at each other but about all of the circumstances, just was not an option.

So, what I'm saying is I took off while Tana was in the shower and drove the car to the gas station kitty corner across the street. I knew it was a bad move when I did it, and the moment Tana showed up at the gas station as I looked through all the cd's and different souvenirs, my knowledge was confirmed. And seeing as how I have no wish for someone that I love, and that loves me, to actually kill me, I won't do it again.

So, I let my mom know, but didn't give her the option to stop me, and I took off with Kai. I left my walker at home. Can you believe it?

The only walking I had to do was to the car, then from the car immediately in front of it to the Redbox, and then back to the car, and then back into the house. It was only the equivalent of me going from my bed, to the bathroom and back, and from my bed to the kitchen and back. As much as that doesn't seem like a lot, to me, it's HUGE. To walk without my walker? I was ECSTATIC!

I wanted to celebrate by picking up taco bell for mom and I while I was out, but for some reason when I get in the driver seat, I can't remember where anything is and I just end up getting lost. So before I got lost, I just decided to stop at Wendy's and get myself some fries and a burger. "The Baconator!" Single, and a coca-cola. As it turns out, if I had made the corner, and gone down the road a little further, I would have made it to the Taco Bell *sigh* but oh well.

I made it home and shared my triumph with mom, made it to my bed and laid down. I could only enjoy half of the burger before I was stuffed, and not even a quarter of my french fries. Kai enjoyed the majority of the rest of my burger, Qari getting her fair share, and Fizzle taking her sweet time eating a small piece of bacon.


I'm still in bed right now. I want to get up and go to the kitchen and make one of the frozen dinners or cut up some peppers or something- I think I'm out of carrot sticks. Not the point. I just don't want to get up again. As good as it felt to get up and out, I still need to really learn to accurately judge what I can do and respect those limits.

That doesn't make it suck any less.


So I did just get up. I made myself a couple of soft taco sized salad wraps. Of course once again I make more than I can eat. *sigh* Wasn't I JUST talking about respecting my limits? That was a fail.


Something is happening with my skin over the last hour. It is itching but pain prickly. I've got a couple large welts, and it's kind of blistery just like as if I had gone out and about in the sunshine in Texas. It's rashy around my upper chest. Almost five hours later and it's not feeling much better. The prickly itching has maintained, though I haven't noticed anymore welts or blister-like-things. Could have been because I was on the phone and completely distracted.

And doing my taxes. *face palm* See, I can multitask! I can be on the phone having a great meaningful comversation with one of my best friends, be completely mindfogged, and file my taxes all at the same time. During the conversation I was talking about firing my psychiatrist after he told me I acted stupid. I'm beginning to think there just MIGHT be some truth to that statement. *ponders* No, nevermind. Just kidding, on a serious note of course I do stupid things, that doesn't mean I need someone I'm looking for validation and support from to tell me how stupid I am after he previously tells me that I need to get a life.

This skin thing is driving me up a wall. It is almost 11:30 p.m. and it hasn't gotten any better. I also have been able to feel some sort of lump on the right side of the base of my neck that is painful. Hopefully it is just muscular. I have tried meditating but can't relax my shoulders or neck. I'm not sure exactly what to do besides wait for my mom to get home.

Talking to my sister I came upon the perfect analogy of how to describe the prickly skin feeling. It's like when you have a blister that is popped, and you rub the skin over it. Literally that is what it feels like. Which I suppose it makes sense since apparently I did describe earlier that I was having blister-like things.

==== What kind of sad life writes a blog over the time period of a full day?

I did though, finish my taxes. Which is a HUGE relief! But I swear, if I have to read anything else about credits or deductibles? I'm likely to self-implode. That is NOT an open invitation to attempt to make me self-implode. *glare*

My EFFING NECK. *bitch moan complain*

$1500 back on my taxes. Think I'm going to ask the hubbs whether he wants to put $1000 into the trust fund, or whether he wants to split it directly in half to use as we wish. I know I wouldn't mind having $750 in my pocket. I have no idea what I would buy with it, but I know I wouldn't mind having it, and it would definitely get spent. Somehow.


Nothing better than watcing George Lopez make a hilarious joke, and get nothing but crickets. *giggle* Damn. And then he has to make another hilarious joke that makes me like him again. *sigh* Oh, he lost me again! Hurray! Now quick change the channel before he makes another absolutely idiotic joke.

White Chicks? While the Wayans in drag is always delightful, I'm going to pass.

Manswers? Whether they're answering questions about tits or... tits... I don't think there is a tit joke in the world that could make my neck feel better. This pain is quickly becoming a serious issue.

Nancy Grace? I have no wish to become suicidal.

Oo! Man vs. Wild? Didn't he use a sheep carcass to make a sleeping bag? I'll pass.

1 Girl 5 Gays! WHAT THE HELL wAS THAT? I just watched 5 gay guys argue whether they would rather have sex with Jim Carrey or Mickey Rourke. Shoot me. CHange it! Change It! .. after all we all know that Jim Carrey is the real catch there... psh..

How did I end up back at George Lopez? We're going from worrying about becoming suicidal to worrying about becoming homicidal. I joke.

I WILL NOT... *oops*

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Day 11: Killer Whales and Drugs.

February 23rd, 2011

Orca's. My entire life I have been fascinated and have held an amazing beloved place in my heart for orca whales. No lie. Not because of their other moniker 'killer whales', or because they make a great show at Seaworld (and the show really is great). To be honest, I'm not exactly sure why I love them so much. But isn't that true for all things we truly love?

The news says that it's the J-Pod coming through. They've reported sighting only three whales, one being a baby. This makes me happy, and yet brings feelings of sadness also. One of my greatest memories in my childhood is seeing a pod of what seemed like hundreds of killer whales. The image so idyllic, so beautiful, sometimes I wonder if it was just a picture I saw. It wasn't, but it sure could have been.


Win for my team!

Yesterday mom and I drove around to a little park called Seaview Park. We found two geocaches there! This is the first time I have gone geocaching since... I lived in Texas and went with a friend there. I adore sharing my love of geocaching with others. The thrill of finding a geocache can be amazing!

For the muggles reading, a geocache is generally a container of any size (smaller than a penny to large ammo cans or large buckets) that are hidden by fellow geocachers, and listed on a website such as, and then found by others using GPS coordinates. Of course, Groundspeak (the head behind sells an app for android phones and iphones and whatnot for $9.99 that takes out SO MUCH of the work that it used to involve for me to go geocaching, that it makes finding the caches easier, but leaves the fun and thrill of it all.


WHOA! Did that JUST happen? I mean.. did I JUST HEAR THAT?? President O'Bama is saying "yes" to making all Gay Marriage in the United States LEGAL? *dumbfounded* I have no comment at this time. I figure I'll wait for the idiots to freak out and make their crazy outlandish claims of destroying the country before I make my obnoxious remarks about said idiocy. I personally have no problem with it, because I have something called, "tolerance".


Today, after yesterday's outing, has been tough at best. I have spent most of my day in bed, only getting out of it for basic needs. I keep saying it was worth it, but what a price in pain.

Mom made a comment last night that frustrated me so greatly. She views everything as getting better since I started tapering down the morphine. If she only knew how wrong she was. One of the biggest arguments they had for saying that I was addicted to morphine is this "she sleeps so much." Well guess what, I'm also taking gabapentin. And I've been having increases of the dosages for a long time. Those increases, also cause a lot of sleep. And then my neurologist prescribed elavil. Which increases the effects of gabapentin, and can by itself make you sleepy. So am I tired? Yes. Do I sleep alot? Yes. And look here, the amount of morphine I am taking is INCREDIBLY reduced, and yet I am still sleeping a LOT. What is the different between now and then? I'm in more pain. But Hey! It's proof I'm an addict right?

Another argument I'm an addict. "She's emotional and frustrated." All I have to say is. Duh. You are talking to someone who just attempted suicide Thanksgiving 2010, is in pain 24 hours a day, and who has gone from running in the backyard with her great dane, to having to use a walker to get to the bathroom (if she makes it to the bathroom) in a matter of months. In addition, noone can figure out what is causing the pain. Can anyone in their right mind say they would not be emotional or frustrated? Angry even? The idiocy of it blows me away.

So check it out, one major outburst, and I'm accused of ony wanting more pain killers. Forget that I had my entire prescription of them with me in my purse, and was I trying to take them? No. Did I ever say anything about painkillers? No. *slams head on keyboard*

What makes me feel so frustrated, is knowing that my mom is watching my every move to make sure that I am indeed, not a morphine addict. Because I know my mom. And while she knows with every fiber of her being that I am in pain, and that I don't voice nearly as much as I am in, what that nurse bitch said to her is going to reverberate in her mind and make her question it. "Am I right?" "Does my daughter have a prescription drug problem?" And I want to scream so hard "NO! NO NO NO!" But I know the more I protest, the more they just look at me as though I do.


I don't understand why I have to force myself to suffer in order to prove a point to these assholes.

I got a call today from Dr. Shustov's scheduler. Well. I guess it is his scheduler. I know Micheal is still there but apparently he isn't my scheduler anymore.

Karen has scheduled me for a follow-up visit next Monday. Blood draw at noon, Dr. Shustov and her at 1:00 p.m. I don't even know how to feel about that. I had to ask my sister for her opinion, and was glad to hear that she had the same opinion I did. It would be best to go to blood draw, and if I felt overwhelmed or like I would be unable to control my anger and frustration, to just jet.

I also have the idea that, I said I wasn't interested in an appointment, but they scheduled me for one anyway. That not only shows me that they 1) don't know how to listen, but 2) they have no respect for my feelings or opinions. I know right now, that if I even started getting lectured in any respect I would have no control over myself. I already want to scream at them, going there just seems like a stupid idea.

So I'm stuck on the topic. I'll be talking about it with my mom either tonight or tomorrow depending on whether I am awake or not. Probably not. The beauty of ambien.


Through all of that, I know I am still lucky, because I could have it worse. Things can always be worse.

I was reminded of that yesterday talking on the phone with my best friend in Alaska. She is currently in the hospitol, and looking at a very long in-patient stay. Most people think one week is an eternity. I used to laugh at them on the inside and have a wave of pity for the non-understanding. I've spent months in the hospitol, but she is on track to have me beat. I wish so much that she didn't have to be there. There's a part of me that just wishes that all of the crap I've had to deal with was enough for all of the people I care about to not have to go through it. You know? One of those 'this is so crazy, noone should have to deal with this' feelings.

And even though I wish desperately that she didn't have to be there, with the circumstances, I hope she gets to spend every day safely there. To wish otherwise, would be to wish her unborn child would come early, and there is NO way I want to risk either her life, or her son's life on such a silly wish, as to not have her stay in a hospitol. Even though they suck, sometimes when it's quiet, it's nice. I can imagine that after Connor is born and at home, and she is so busy taking care of Justin and Connor, that she might think back to these days in the hospitol of laying back and feeling so frustrated and likely laugh.

There is SO much to be said about being home, and being around everything familiar. But there is also something to be said about having housekeeping, a full kitchen staff with set mealtimes that you don't have to set anything up for, and for nurses that all try to make you feel comfortable. Well, mostly all that try to make you feel comfortable. Some of them just need to be kicked in the Vagina. Yea, I said it.

I'm not saying all nurses need to be kicked in the Vagina, so no hatemail about how you are a nurse and blah blah blah. I don't care so your message is just going to go into the circular filing system (the trashcan). If you are a nurse than you know more than anyone that some nurses just need one big giant kick. Not ALL, just SOME. Afterall.. nurses aren't politicians.

What? Oh nothing.


Got to chat very briefly with my husband today. Mostly involving him wanting to know what I could have POSSIBLY spent $10 on (Geocaching app). I love him so much, but I so often feel as though he is criticizing my every move and that makes me want to just smack him. But he's a little out of reach being overseas. So he is safe for now.

It's hard for me to remember that he isn't trying to hurt me. I mean, he never EVER tries to hurt me. Nine times out of ten it is all in how I am interpreting what he says, or how he says whatever it is. It is something we have struggled with greatly as a couple for many years. Ever since we were dating actually. I remember one time we were together in public and he just didn't feel like holding hands. I remember thinking he was trying to tell me he didn't really like me at all, or that he was nothing but embarassed to be in public with me. Gah see, my mind is already spiralling around going "Maybe he really was, no, he didn't mean that it was nothing about me, he just wasn't comfortable with it. How do you know what? He could be lying." It's a CRAZY cycle that just never stops.

But if I start going into all of othat right now, I seriously won't end up hitting the 'Post' button.


Monday, February 21, 2011

Day 8: Good Morning Sunshine

February 20th, 2011

"Woohoo, Text Message!" "Woohoo, Text Message!" "Woohoo, Text Message!"

I think it's about time to change the text message notification I have on my phone. If I don't break the effing thing first! It's a complete catch-22. I hate the ringtone, but I am beginning to love being woken up by it because normally, it's my husband on the other end of that god-awful annoying chipmunk message.

By the time he wakes me up, he is about ready to go to bed. We don't usually get to chat long, but I treasure each conversation. He is supportive, kind, caring, and loving. Each person is a combination of both bad and good qualities, and he has both good and bad; but in most cases, he is one of the amazing guys. The kind that women search for years to find and dream about.

I know how lucky I am.

And thankful.


I can't remember last night's dream, only that it left me with a piece of memory as I woke up.

Ever since I started seeing Dr. McCoy (teeeeheeeheheheheheee Yes I've watched my fair share of Star Trek) different parts of my memory have kind of been... awakened? Perhaps that is how I will describe it. It wasn't until I started seeing him that I began to see how I am dissociative in many situations. How I can't remember what happened or happens, but know I was there.  Recognizing things as they happen is one thing, but being able to stop it is another.


I slept again until 4 p.m. Mom woke me up to see if I had taken my 2 o'clock pills. I hadn't. I remember hearing my 2 p.m. alarm clock and mom asking me if I was awake, and I remember saying "no". But when she woke me up saying she wanted to go drive by a couple of more houses, I was down for it 

None of the 3 we drove by I was particularly interested in. .

I'm not quite sure what happened, but somehow on the way home we started arguing about mental health. We all know I need it, and I was being super serious telling her how important it could be that she pursue some counseling herself. Not onl due to the crap I've put her through, the trauma of having a child with leukemia, not to mention the suicide attempts.... but from her own history as well.  I hear the same stupid arguments that I've given and I just want to scream!

What really makes me want to scream, is how she brought it up as a serious idea that she was considering asking if I thought it was a good idea, I agreed, and then it was like she shot it down. It's not all about me.... wait.. this is my blog.. for the moment it IS all about me.. but I felt like I was being told my opinion wasn't worth anything, and by extension, my being was worthless.

Extreme? Probably. But that would be typical Borderline Personality Disorder. Everything that is said or done, is searched for clues (even if they don't exist) that I am going to be dropped, dumped, let down, in short; abandoned. If I am worthless, than she won't want me here. And how does one respond to not being wanted, and having nowhere else to go? Anger? Resentment? Frustration? Does it all make sense? NO. Emotionally it makes NO sense to believe that my mother feels I am worthless. As it happens? My brain screams at the reality of it. And this is the dilemma I am hoping that joining the Psychiatric study at UW will help me with. To not have to wait a day of thinking after fighting with my mom to realize that my brain is being retarded.


Sunday, February 20, 2011

Day 7: The House Hunt

February 19th, 2011

Today was as close to great as I have had in a LONG time! Although I woke up in the usual pain, but was woken up by the man I love the most in this world: My Husband! Not by his voice, but my cell phone going "Woohoo! Text Message!" repeatedly as he spammed my phone with "hello, hello, hello, hello, hello." If I wasn't so happy to hear from him I probably would have gotten pissed.

Mom and I had decided to go drive past a couple of houses that I am interested in. They are both in Auburn. One is a 3 bedroom, 2 full bathroom home with a three quarter acre lot. The second house I'm probably not going to talk about much, other than to say if I was healthy and wealthy enough to put humpty dumpty back together again, I would jump at the chance. Unfortunately it is way out of my financial ability, or physical ability, despite the increble dreams and possibilities for the property. So back to House #1

As we were going there, I had my "YES! THE WTF MOMENT OF THE DAY!" as we drove past a homeless guy pissing in some bushes underneath the freeway. It's those moments that really, just really, can make the day. And you know what? Seeing a homeless guy piss under a freeway, just made my day. Yep.

This house is immediately bordered by two things. The first, is a beautiful park. The second, is the back end field of an elementary school. We were there when school was out, and I was excited to see all the kids playing outside, and parents that were playing with their children in the area. Tossing a football back and forth, riding bikes, all sorts of things. It made my heart warm. The property itself has a "come to me" type of aura. I felt invited there. Not to mention the 7-11 down the street has MY MONSTERS!!! OH MUH GAWD!

At the same time, the property itself is HUGE. The lot itself is big enough to subdivide into at least three properties. Only keeping in mind that some day, we would like to have a property where mom can live in her own home, but right next door. To some that would be extremely odd, but not to us. She's my best friend!

My mom and I have an incredibly close relationship. As far as things go, I can only say that there are a handful of direct people that have seen and stood with me through every single aspect of borderline personality disorder that I have. Even though I was only diagnosed in Texas, I have had it for.. ever.. and the more I learn about it, the more I understand why I react to certain things in certain ways, and why I do some of the things I do that I have tried to change for aGEs, Not everyone might believe I have BPD, and in fact I have had several people tell me 'no, Maria, you don't have that!' But in fact, I do.

After we drove past the properties and took some video footage and some pictures of the outsides, I was not ready to go home again. I finagled mom into driving me to Barnes and Noble, and we looked around at books for a good couple of hours. I found some books instantly that I wanted to purchase, but knowing I am on a budget, after picking them all up, realizing I couldn't hold them and stand up off my walker to set them down, put them back on the shelf, and in so doing was able to move on to not purchase them that instant. I can be horribly impulsive and it devastates our financials. Furthermore I can become aggressively defensive over that impulsive choice, even if I am also sitting there going "WHY DID I BUY THAT??" And then blaming myself into a horrible cycle of depression.

I've often felt crazy, so to realize that all of my behaviors and feelings fit DIRECTLY into a diagnosis makes me feel... almost.. incredibly sad and yet vindicated. I am not crazy.

Well, anywhoo... I keep bringing up borderline personality disorder because I bought a book called "Stop Walking on Eggshells, When someone you love has borderline personality disorder". I read a third of the book last night, and probably another third tonight, if I don't finish it. Reading it is hard though. As I read, I identify with all of the actions, and then they describe how that action affects the 'non-BPD' in the situation. Which is totally not in any way how I feel about it, but then it says that the borderline and the non-borderline may see the same situation in completely seperate realities, that are all completely unconscious behaviors. So how do you stop an unconscious behavior? I have been working for years to identify when I am getting angry and how to deal with it. Or how to deal with other emotions or situations that come up.

I have learned that when I am about to rage at my husband, that I can articulate to him that I am in a rage and that at this time, I cannot be held by him, talked to, kissed, or ANYTHING at that moment. I have also learned how to communicate that while I am about to rage, or during, or after, that rage was not directed at him, that it had nothing to do with him- and how important it was for him to remember that I can't control when I freak out, but to know that I do love him, I DO LOVE HIM, and that I don't want to hurt him, and how he can't take me personally when I am in a rage.

How I can say things that may be true (right then in that moment) but in five minutes I feel a completely different way. Reading this book just puts me on edge wondering how much every friendship I have had has been affected by this behavior that I never realized, or never understood because of the disorder itself and the type of thinking involved in each behavior.

Analyzing one's self in incredibly frustrating.

I want ice cream.


Day 6: Bring on the Pain

February 18th, 2011

Last night was brutal. Just brutal. I had so much anxiety driving to that seminar, that it was almost not even worth it. Of course, the seminar itself I was incredibly disappointed with. Don't get me wrong, there were some good parts, a couple of inspiring parts (One that almost made me cry), but as a whole? I wanted to just get out of there. Except I couldn't. The whole, respecting limits thing. I wasn't going to leave and drive fresh off a dose of morphine= that would be just stupid. So I stayed and crocheted a pig.

On my way home, I got somewhat lost in the neighborhood outside the library. I was doing alright until I decided I was going to stop at 7-11 for a movie. I ended up driving over the curb, over a sidewalk, into the parking lot. *slams head on keyboard*

Not only is that embarassing, it fucking scary. Scary as HELL. Thank god for my best friend Tana, who helped me calm down via text and helped me process what was happening so I didn't just freak out. I went in and got some 'gummy grizzly bears', an ice cream cookie, and a Sobe green tea. I got the movie 'Red' from the Redbox, but didn't watch it last night.

Instead, I'm going to watch it with mom when she gets home from work tonight.

Otherwise, today has been a complete nightmare. I have a feeling this is only the beginning of what I'm going to be feeling like. I am not excited.

Irritable, feeling constant pain, any movement just sending shots of sharp twinges through my back, hip, and thigh. I started taking a pen and drawing everywhere I felt the pain.

I've slept as much of the day as I can. Everytime I wake up, it's cringing, and everytime I try and roll over, it's another shot of agony.

Mom woke me up when she got home. It wasn't even 1 a.m. yet! Can you believe it? Home early. Guess she was excited to watch the movie. *chuckle* And it was a DAMN good movie!

Comedy, guns, exploding people, love, and I have to say, Even though I HATE John Malkovich, I absolutely ADORED him in this movie. Just something about him playing a guy who was experimented on with LSD for 11 years that just makes me giddy on the inside.

After the movie, mom and I got my pills ready for this next week. I'm still taking the gabapentin because it has made such a difference and I am convinced it will continue to. I am also taking my celexa, because I know me, and I know how much that antidepressant helps me. I have to take it every day- it isn't one that stores up in the body. Any of my closest friends can tell if I haven't taken it, the instant change of anger and frustration is palpable. I am also taking the elavil my neurologist prescribed. He said it could enhance the gabapentin's effects, and it is also an antidepressant, although he said at the dosage I am at, it does not generally have the effect of an antidepressant. Also, Lybrel. It's a birth control pill.

Even though my husband is overseas, if I quit taking it, it's likely that it could trigger some sort of menses like thing even though I am in menopause- the issue is my vaginal stenosis due to graft versus host disease. Someday I'll be going to a reconstructive surgeon to fix it, but that day is not today, nor tomorrow. Unfortnately I have a large...... some sort of cyst type thing the size of a fist (roughly) because of stopping Lybrel back in October for a couple of weeks. I trust my gynecologist at the S.C.C.A. She has been gentle and understanding with me ever since she met me back in 2007. She has never pushed anything on me, always appreciating my decisions and my own knowledge. I appreciate her. I respect her.

We also spent time seeing how many Morphine ER pills I have, and how we can taper down my extended release dose. We have it set now for what we have-- we only have 3 weeks worth and are going to just go with it. Hopefully within my mountain of library books I picked up we will glean useful information that we can utilize to help deal with, ease, or completely reduce the pain before that point. I am not looking forward to not having pain suppression.. every time I have gotten to that point the pain was so bad I became completely suicidal. Joy.


Saturday, February 19, 2011

Day 5: Respecting Limits

February 17th, 2011

I cannot believe I am writing this and making it public. I promised a truthful accounting of my life, and damnit, I can't hold back. Beware; this may constitute TMI, and if you make fun of me I will hunt you down and smack you. Hard. Promise.

I wet the bed last night.

*hangs head*

I kept trying to move my legs to get up but the pain was severe. I made it to the bathroom, but had no strength to do anything else. My ambien mind didn't think to call for mom's help, nor did I want to. How humiliating. Almost twenty-seven years old and I'm writing a blog about pissing myself. I'm sure it won't be the last one.

I wiped up the bathroom floor with my wet clothes, and made it back to bed. I didn't have the strength to even move the books from the dry side of the bed, so just huddled around them to sleep on the dry half.

I feel like such a complete loser. It's times like this that seriously derail whatever sense of self accomplishment I have built up to this point.


Mom and I talked in the car today about... something... it involved breast cancer, the Susan G. Komen Foundation, and wishing that blood cancers were made as public as boobie cancer. We began talking about leukemia. About all of the advancements made to treat leukemia. And somehow, my mind wandered and hasn't stopped since. With all the advancements to treat the disease, it seems like the side effects of the treatment are... left behind.

I have acute and chronic graft versus host disease.

I just read a blog, of a young man who died after his bone marrow transplant from complications of graft versus host disease. It makes me want to scream and cry~ I struggle so much every day to contain every ounce of unhappiness and to just stay thankful for my life and everything in it-- but then moments like this happen. Moments where I just feel scared. I feel alone. I feel empty. I feel pain. I feel guilty for being alive, although I'm sure that doesn't make sense to most. I've been told that is stupid- I've been told I should just be thankful to be alive.

I am thankful, but that doesn't mean I don't struggle every day to stay that way.

And now I'm forcing myself to struggle even more.


Ugh. Withdrawals. I'm glad I have the knowledge to recognize what is happening to me. The intermittant sweats, the abdominal aches, the runny nose, the tingles- They don't all hit at once you know. Just a little at a time, until I can't handle it anymore and I soothe the withdrawal and the pain with just a small little white pill.

I am proud of myself- I have weaned my body down in dosages. instead of 6 pills a day, I only take 2. Instead of 90mg of extended release, I only take 60mg.

It's like a full out war being re-enacted inside my body. And I'm not talking like modern day warfare, I mean muskets, cannon balls, and bayonets vs. mass guerrilla warfare tactics.

Morphine vs. Pain.

Speaking of morphine, mom and I went to the SCCA today to get refills I had called in for refills before the whole pain clinic fiasco. When I got up to the counter, somehow, mysteriously, I had a prescription for more morphine extended release tablets. I don't know where they came from, I didn't want to get them but mom gave me this looks like "Yes, shut up!".

The thing is, I know that I need them in order to continue tapering, so I don't want to complain about receiving them. Mom even did explain to me that at one point before my trip a prescription was set up to be given to me at the appropriate time. I'm thankful and glad to have these additional 25 pills to allow me to taper much much better-- but it is still completely frustrating. I told Karen I wasn't going to get or take anymore, and here I am accepting a prescription that I'm not even sure how it got up to the pharmacy.


On Day 1: Research while we were at the Lynnwood Library, I saw a flier for an event about cancer for women and nutrition and juicing for health during chemotherapy. I wanted to go very very badly, but it was at 7:00 pm. That means mom would already be at work, and there isn't anyone I would feel comfortable asking if they would be willing to drive me there.

So I made the decision to drive myself.

To say both mom and I were nervous about this decision is an understatement. It's kind of funny that I'm not nervous to stop major medications, but I am nervous to drive to the Library at 7:00 p.m.? Somehow it makes complete sense to me. After a somewhat short discussion with mom, we decided, or I decided at least, that I would go to the Library at 6 p.m. take a morphine after I got there, and stay until the library closes at 9:00 p.m. The reasoning being 3 hours would have passed since taking the dose of morphine, and most if not all of the effects would have worn off....

Then mom made a statement that completely took me by surprise and I wanted to reject IMMEDIATELY!

"You have to respect your limits, Maria."

I mean, limits? Limits? I'm not limited! The sky is the limit! ..... right?

Not quite. I very awesomely have extreme limitations. Interestingly enough it had been thrust into my immediate purview earlier at the SCCA when we went to go get my medical records and refills. While at the pharmacy I received a phone call from the therapy study that I have an in-person interview with on March 2nd to give me the parking code for the handicap parking lot. Interestingly enough the password is "BAGEL". That made me laugh immensely since it was a bagel that tried to kill me in Texas! (I was in the hospital for a week with a bowel obstruction after eating a bagel).

Well, without thinking I leaned down to grab a notepad and pen out of my walker, and BAM. I almost fell but regained my balance. Thank goodness for my walker being there, because I am fairly certain hitting the floor would have hurt more. The twinge of pain stopped me from walking the rest of the time we were at the SCCA. 

I have to be extremely conscious of every move I make- and one slip-up like that can devastate my entire plan. I also have to be conscoius always of how tired I am getting. There is a direct correlation between how much activity, how much pain, and how tired I am. I have to respect that.

I don't want to, but I have to.


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Day 4: Cardstock! NAO!

February 16th, 2011

After waking up at 6 a.m. for my extended release morphine and gabapentin, I went right back to sleep. I always feel so strange after I wake up from sleeping. As if no matter how long I slept, it is a new day. Yesterday I fell asleep shortly after mom left, and woke up at 9:45 p.m. and thought it felt as though the whole day was a full day away. As if somehow, at 9:45 p.m. a new day was starting. Strange, is how it felt. As though I were missing time. So when I woke up again this morning, I thought I had to take my morning meds all over again. I was incredibly confused as to why the morning meds were gone from Wednesday, but none of the other dosages (2 p.m. and 10 p.m.), and how I didn't have Thursday's out on my nightstand.

The pain in my hip was staggering. However I had slept, whether at night or since waking up at 6 a.m. apparently did not agree with my nervous system. It was that weird feeling like you just want to twist your leg at the hip joint to stretch out the muscles or ligaments and tendons or something- but at the same time, you know it won't feel better and just want to keep twisting until you rip it off. As if somehow the idea of a ripped off limb would feel better than the constant pounding of rebar through my hip. It's not even pounding, it's just a constant...... ...... ....... GAH finding words to explain it is so incredibly pointless.

Ok, there is a made for tv Alice in Wonderland movie that was on the SyFy channel. In the movie, they would take humans hostage and 'drain' emotions from them, distill them into liquid form, and then the queen of hearts would take them, distribute them, or sell them like crack cocaine. That in and of itself has absolutely NO relevance to my rant, except that I wish I could somehow 'drain' the pain, and give it to my old doctor's so they could see exactly what kind of pain I am in. So they would know what I am talking about and not just call me crazy.

Somewhere in the midst of my mind wandering in the morning, I decided I wanted cardstock. For those unaware, cardstock is just a thicker type of paper. Kind of a halfway meeting point between posterboard and regular paper.

At about 11:00 I asked mom if she could go pick up some cardstock for me at Wal-Mart. I can't remember what she asked me then, but I do remember the distinct feeling of "Oh Dear Lord, I better go myself." So I asked if we could just both go, and off we went on our grand journey of the day.

After passing the zebra (I'll write about him some other time), we eventually came to a stoplight. At the stoplight was this great old man, who in Alaska would look right at home, but here in Lynnwood.... he was COMPLETELY out of place. Great old Sourdough looking guy. Obviously one of those 'bush' guys that grows a lot of weed but pretends he doesn't, knows how to start a fire ANYWHERE, and even though you are pretty sure they don't have a vehicle, they somehow end up everywhere you go... even if it takes forty-five minutes to drive there. This guy was carrying an awesome classical guitar strapped around his front, and from the pegs hung a hot-pink monkey.

I shit you not.

And just like that, my day went from okay, to awesome.

At Wal-Mart, I got my cardstock in white, black, and primary colors, I got a new candle in the scent 'bamboo jasmine' and a small one of 'lavendar' to help me in my meditation and to relax. I also got a couple of small trash bins for my room, which I have greatly needed since I first moved in. One of those things I always remember at the wrong time. Well somehow, I remembered today and got just a plain black little trashcan with hooks to hold the handles of plastic bags.

When we got home, mom drew up a nice bath in the tub and helped get everything ready. Thank goodness too because I really needed a nice relaxing soak. There has always been something really special to me about being submerged in water. The feeling of being enveloped, almost like the water is giving you a great big hug. Maybe it's just the Pisces in me. The point is after getting out of he tub and back to my bed, dressed and warm, incredibly relaxed and uplifted.. the phone rang.

BUHN BUhn, buhn

It was Karen. She introduced herself as if I didn't know who she was or who she worked for. Immediately I was frustrated. She told me she was calling for two reasons. One to make sure and see if I was alright, and the second, to find out if I wanted to make a follow-up appointment to see her, and if I were going to continue with the pain service. I told her I was fine, and that no, I didn't want an appointment, and no, I wasn'g going to follow up with the pain clinic anymore. She asked who was going to be prescribing my pain medication. I told her noone, I wouldn't be taking them anymore.

WHAT? I could almost hear her mind getting confused as I said it. You mean, a pill junky stopping taking pills JUST like that???? Why would she do that? It doesn't make sense! Either she really is a junky, or she never was in pain, or... what if she wasn't a junky and she IS in pain?

Me thinks she is about 3 steps behind the whole picture.

Of course she had to "follow her duty again" and inform me that ".. didn't I know I would have withdrawals if I just stop taking them, I've been on such a high dose for so long.." I could only grunt "uh huh". Of COURSE I am going to go through withdrawals. For crying out loud REALLY? This isn't my first song at the karaoke bar you know. There have been times I have been out of pain medication and nurses at that same clinic have tried to make it impossible for me to get any medication, and I had already started withdrawals. But of course THAT wouldn't come to mind, no, my care at the SCCA has always been perfectly fucking STELLAR.

Stellar like the time they told my mom al I wanted was pain pills, and couldn't she see that? I had the pain pills with me and wasn't taking them, but of course that MUST have been the issue... It couldn't possibly have been how much pain I was in, and that the pain clinic refused to even acknowledge my pain, treating me like I'm a junky, and like my mom and best friend are just duped idiots. I must be REallY hard up for morphine, because how many junky's do you know who allow themselves to be poked and prodded as much as I have? I mean come ON?! I'd have to be one SICK individual!!

But I guess it is easier to think I'm that screwed up, than it is to think I might actually be in pain.

I don't understand it. But that's coming from the screwed up psycho in the corner. (Me).


No, I accepted that I would go through withdrawals and be stuck in extreme pain unless I find other ways to deal with the pain last thursday. The moment Karen said that the pain clinic was sticking with their opinion that physical therapy would be my cure-all.

Bitches. All of them. One day I hope they feel half as much pain as I feel every day. And I hope they have just as much trouble as I am getting help for it.

..... what? Me? Bitter? ........ just a little..... no, okay.. a LOT bitter.


Oh. 'Paranormal Acrivity 2'? One thumb up, one thumb down. Not as good as the first. Not only was scare factor not quite as there- but the first movie had me left with "Oh shit, that could happen to me!" and the second was more like "Idiot, who REALLY struck that deal with the demon for the first born son?" Although how the two movies tied together was pretty cool.

I also just finished watching 'A Tall Dark Stranger'. *sigh* It's not even worth talking about. If you want to watch it, watch it. If you don't, definitely don't. If you aren't sure if you want to see it or not, just.. do yourself a favor and pick a different movie. I feel like I just slept through that movie, and have just completely lost that time. And it wasn't even enjoyable.At least when I actually DO sleep I get... some sleep.. Wow. That was a sherlock moment right there wasn't it??

Day 3: I'm a Washingtonian! Or am I Alaskan.. I don't know!

February 15th, 2011

This morning I meant to get moving a lot faster than I did, but I just couldn't. At 6 a.m. my mom woke me up to take my gabapentin and morphine extended release, two medications I haven't given up on yet. My original medical medication list hosted 23 or 24 different medications. However, this morning before I got dressed, I got one of those inkling little bugs that say "Hey, find out about THIS."

This little bug was about the muscles in the lower back/hip region. The gluteus medius. As I was reading, I about fell off my bed! There are pieces of the visit with Dr. Fitzgibbon at the pain clinic that I cannot remember. Pain has a funny way of distorting appointments when they are trying to teach you things. Pain has a LOT of funny ways, but I am not getting into that right now- I am trying to remember Dr. Fitzgibbon's speach to me. Ah yes, that is right. He was talking about how when he asked me to raise my right leg I could not raise it very high by myself without considerable amounts of pain. However, when he raised my leg, he could raise it considerably higher than I could. He obviously didn't realize that the pain was still there when he raised it, and extremely bad when he moved my leg side to side that made me start crying- but hey. He's the doctor right?

So during my google-craze, I noticed something about trigger points, and how they refer pain- and I was learning about all sorts of parts of muscles- and I was also realizing Dr. Fitzgibbon may have been on to something. What he did with the injection was wrong- but he was definitely on to something that no other physician had come up with. Because of that, I am looking into additional forms of therapy that I was interested in before but am somewhat afraid of- such as acupunture and accupressure.

Anyways, after my foray to the local library yesterday, it became extremely clear that I needed to get a current drivers license and identification card. So mom and I went to the DMV in Lynnwood. I got a number and found a place to sit, pulled out my book, and started reading.

And then I started falling asleep.

Mom kept poking me every few minutes to make sure I opened my eyes and blinked a few times because I was wearing my boston lenses. Unfortunately when you have boston lenses you are not allowed to sleep for longer than 15 minutes with them on. I learned the hard way that when you do, the dryness and irritation that occurs on the upper eyelid adds for much more increased pain than anyone would want to deal with in their eyes. Not being able to blink is extremely irritating. It's something that just comes naturally to everyone! Although after chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant, blinking doesn't quite have the same effect as it used to since chemically my tears aren't produced quite right and so they tend to become more of a gooey mess that doesn't actually moisten the eye. That accounts for the extreme dry eye and pain.

By the time they finally called my number, more than a couple of people had left in a huff after repeated mutterings about how slow they were. Most of the time I just chuckled at them, but one man flat out annoyed me. He kept calling different people on his phone and.... doing what I used to do. LOL. Isn't it odd? To be faced with something that you know you used to do, and to realize just how obnoxious it was? I honestly wasn't sure whether to laugh or to face-palm myself.

The gal at the counter was quite nice. I explained the situation to her, that I had come to Washington originally for medical treatment, but that I was going to become a permanent resident. She asked what type of medical treatment and I told her. Apparently they would have to require a medical release for me to get a Washington drivers license, so I opted to simply get an ID card. She handed me back my driver's license. I have no idea if it is even actually legal to have an ID card from one state, and a driver's license from another. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, but noone stopped me or said anything about it, so who knows!


On our way home, we stopped at 7-11 and picked up Paranormal Activity 2 from the Redbox. I'm oddly in the mood to get scared about something beSIDES my health for awhile......