Life’s Little Victories…

My father really was orchestral in getting all this done. To him goes the glory. I just called him and thanked him for all his efforts today and the previous days beforehand.

Last night, I arrived home from grocery shopping to find Charlie parked out in front of my house. He has a key and had let himself inside. He was busy cleaning house – vacuuming the rug in my computer room. He stopped and helped me unload my groceries as my father then arrived.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Charlie inquisitively as he was then cleaning my bathroom sink. “I know you didn’t just come to clean.”

I was very glad to see him and so was the Magster. Thrilled would be a better term for the Magster.

“I am going to cut your hair again so you look good for the doctor,” Charlie said.

This was no doubt my father’s machinations. Old Fuss and Feathers parked himself on the couch with Maggie as Forensic Files droned on while Charlie cut and washed my hair. He gave me quite a nice haircut I might add. Old Fuss and Feathers said I looked like a new man. The deep shampoo and scalp massage was luxurious.

They soon left and Maggie and I settled down for the night. In the morning was my doctor’s appointment and I was as ready as I ever was going to be. Dad picked me up at 9:20am the next day and we headed down the interstate for a 10am appointment.

“I’m increasing your Risperdal 1 and half milligrams,” the doctor told me when I described the problems I had earlier in the week. “I will see you back in two weeks and let’s see how you are doing.”

So that makes 3 milligrams a day I am taking now on top of the 50mg I am getting with my long lasting injection every two weeks. My math is terrible, but I think that works out to be over 6mg a day. I thanked the doctor and dad and I left feeling something positive happened. Dad was worried he was going to take me off Risperdal and put me on another antipsychotic and all the teething pains that would result. Much of psychiatry is trial and error. In the beginning of my mental problems, I probably went through six drugs before they found one that worked.

Now, it was time for my and Maggie’s treat. We stopped at Hardee’s for sausage biscuits and steak biscuits. The biscuits are really stupendous at Hardee’s. Dad and I parked and ate our biscuits and I saved one for Maggie who relished it once I arrived home. It was still good and warm. She really was one happy dog. She hadn’t had a steak biscuit from Hardee’s in six months and neither had I.

Blood Makes Noise…

I could hear my blood ringing and rushing around my ears on the drive to my appointment in Opelika. Is it perceived or real? I do not know. I know it happens when I get under a lot of stress.

We signed in and had to fill out countless medical forms and the receptionist needed my ID and insurance information and cards. Just then, Dr. Edwards, my former psychiatrist, walked by with a cup of delicious smelling coffee in his hands.

“Dr. Edwards!” I exclaimed. “Are you still my psychiatrist?”

“Y’all are next after one more appointment,” he told me.

I was elated and let it be known. He smiled and probably thought, “Yes, this one needs to be medicated”. My father was thrilled as well and shook his fists in the air in a celebratory fashion.

He refilled my prescriptions and we don’t have to come back for 6 months.

Dad and I moseyed on over to Hardee’s and got two steak biscuits and one sausage biscuit – always a pleasure on such trips to the doctor.

This Should Prove Interesting…

I have an appointment in the morning with a brand new psychiatrist. My motto is why fix it when it isn’t broken? I am doing well on my current regimen of medications. Many times, a new psychiatrist will try to change your meds. Y’all be thinking about me in the morning. I am already nervous as hell about this endeavor – the ole butterflies are a fluttering.

Let There Be Salutations, Much Joy, and Even More Excitement...

Well, we made it there and back -- Opelika that is. My father was very hyper and talking a mile a minute this morning throughout these procedures.

Dad was also thrilled when Dr. Edwards kept my medications to what I had been prescribed to for years. Dad gave me a high five as we walked out of the psychiatrist's office.

"Now, let's go get us some steak biscuits and a senior coffee for myself!" my father said very excitedly.

He still couldn't believe we got in and out of the doctor's office so quickly. We had set a new precedence. We usually have to wait an hour or more, but they called us back as soon as we sat down in the lobby for a change.

"You have beautiful ginger hair," I told the receptionist and she smiled shyly and blushed.

"Thank you!"

As always, the biscuits were tongue tantalizing. I had finished both my steak biscuits with mustard by the time we were passing Perlis truck stop on the way up the interstate -- about the halfway point to home.

Oh Dear...Houston We Have a Problem...

"Psychiatrist visit in the morning," my father told me during the medication ritual tonight.

"I know you don't want to go, but it must be done," Johnny Otis then told me.

The furry little Magster was laying perfectly on the floor and looked thoroughly comfortable.

"Is she sleeping?" my father asked and then I laughed.

"She's got one eye open for good measure. She's not going to miss a beat."

I happily gulped my myriad of pills down this evening. Luckily, I only have to see Dr. Edwards every six months now that I am "stable", Whatever stable is these days.

Dad told me to deter and coach me that if I talk about last week's depression, then I will have to come back in two weeks and would also cause a change in my medications. Damned if I do and damned if I don't.

"I'll call you at ten in the morning to make sure you are up and we will get us both some steak biscuits afterward," my father furthered.

I could just float in a sea of Hardee's steak biscuits. Don't forget the mustard as well!

A Journeyman's Journal...

https://twitter.com/ladypsych

We had to wait an excruciatingly long time to see Dr. Edwards, my psychiatrist. Finally, they called us back and I was so very relieved. I had been battling with my anxiety for almost an hour fidgeting and wringing my hands. My father gave me a high five as we turned at the corner and headed down the long hall to completion. It was already going on nigh lunch.

"How are you, sir?" I asked my doctor as I sat down in his office.

He has two practices in Mobile and Auburn and said the long travel times can be arduous.

"Think of the prize," I kept telling myself about the two steak biscuits that I would indulge in soon.

Blood Letting...

My doctor wants a full battery of blood tests done. I always wondered why he didn't do this sooner so it wasn't a surprise. Dr. Kern, my old psychiatrist, had my lithium levels checked every month, Lithium and a few other medications I take are very hard on my liver and kidneys.

"I am putting 'The Secretary' in charge of you getting those blood tests," my father told me with a devilish grin and a laugh.

Luckily, though, that I can get my blood drawn at Kamath Medical and not the hospital. I will get this done when I get my Risperdal Consta injection next Thursday.

"Shit head!" I told my father smiling back.

Country Fried Steak Biscuits...

http://biscuitville.com/

I finally got my prize, two steak biscuits, and we headed up the interstate to home. The ex-large Coke was a nice bonus as well, Dad was just absolutely ecstatic that we actually got all that done. He said he had a lazy weekend ahead of him except for the Auburn game. He said the Auburn game would be his therapy.

"It has been a appointment kind of week with your mother and you," my father told me.

He had himself a senior coffee and a sausage biscuit. We both requested packs of mustard to go on our biscuits.

So Long So Wrong...

I've got the low down, dog gone funks and I can't motivate myself to do anything today. I was talking to my father earlier about how my mother and I can cycle over time with our mental illnesses. Mom is gradual and I am very sudden. This mental malaise began to happen overnight and the day before that.

I am diagnosed as schizoaffective or having both the symptoms of schizophrenia and bipolar disorders. I honestly think that I am just bipolar, though. (lows and highs) even though I do speak to myself at times.

My only daily cleaning efforts were in the kitchen as I polished my glass top stove and swept the floors.  I try to clean one room a day. The rest of the day I spent sleeping and tossing and turning on the couch as the television droned on for hours. What a terrible way to spend your day and a horrible way to miss it.

"Well, they cancelled your psychiatrist's appointment for tomorrow," my father told me tonight as we sat down on the couch.

"I wouldn't have been able to go anyways," I told my father of my mental capacities tonight. "I also don't have any appropriate clothes to wear."

I shouldn't have bemoaned this fact as far as my mental status is concerned, but dad and I both were ecstatic and joyful -- no longer having to drive all the way to Auburn and then to make awkward small talk with an awkward little man. I am going to miss my customary two Hardee's steak biscuits very much, though.

My father was also so tired after working all day. He was very quiet tonight.

"I can't wait to get home, take off these work clothes, grab an icy diet Coke, and watch television," he told me.

Adventures in Psychiatry and the End of the Forced Medication Ritual…

I had most of the morning off from work to go see my new psychiatrist.  I only worked two short hours coming in very early to get the carts caught up from overnight and I was on my way to Auburn.  She has a busy practice and I had to wait in the brightly colored and sunny waiting room for quite awhile to be seen.  I spent my time reading old Southern Living magazines.  I noticed all the plants in the waiting room needed watering, but I resisted the urge to tell the receptionist not wanting to be a busybody. 

“Andrew? You can come on back now,” the receptionist finally said.

I sighed with relief.  The most unpleasant part of psychiatry is the incessant waiting around to see the doctor as is just about the case with any doctor these days.

My new doctor was reviewing my medical records as I took a seat in her office.  The huge and deep, richly hued wood desk stood out in my mind.  A clock was ticking softly on the wall and the room smelled of peppermint which was comforting.  It was a much more quiet and pleasantly peaceful environment than my old doctor’s office which was always loud with thin walls.  

“It says here you are schizoaffective?” she asked with a smile looking over her very fashionable and svelte glasses.

“That’s what my old doctor thought, but I don’t think so,” I told her. “I don’t have any of the classic symptoms of those disorders.  I am not bipolar and I am not schizophrenic.”

“Describe for me your symptoms,” she said.

“I have extreme anxiety especially late in the afternoons.  Afternoons are always the hardest on me I think because I get tired.  I also have extreme anxiety in social situations.  Social anxiety has been a problem for me ever since I was a child.  The anxiety attacks I have can border on excruciating – incapacitating me for hours.  I think I have Asperger’s syndrome, social anxiety, and generalized anxiety disorder.”

“You are on a lot of medications – medications that can conflict with each other,” she told me looking dismayed.

“My father would tell my doctor a symptom I was having, what he thought I needed medication wise, and my doctor would prescribe it.  My father is a pharmacist and very pro medication – almost  maniacal about it,” I told her wincing as I said it.

My new doctor frowned deeply as I told her this.   

We continued on about my symptoms for a good thirty minutes in this initial visit.  She greatly simplified my medications putting me on 3mg Risperdal on top of my injection in the mornings halving my regular dosage (we are going to titrate this down to zero due to withdrawal problems over time as we both believe I don’t need an anti-psychotic),  Paxil for the social anxiety, and kept me on my Klonopin reducing the Klonopin from four .5mg pills to two 1mg pills a day.  This reduced the pills I was taking from eleven down to four. 

“The sexual dysfunction was due to the anti-depressant you were taking. It’s a common problem with Celexa,” she told me before I got up to leave.  “It will take about a week for you to feel sexually normal again.”

I thanked her profusely for her help and left the room to get my next appointment in two weeks.  I am really going to like this new doctor.  She is not a pill pusher – thinking more pills = better.   My father is going to shit a brick though.  This is the end of the forced morning medication ritual and the end of my every two week injection of Risperdal which was a method of social control for my father – his psychiatric mental illness insurance.  My new doctor firmly believes in therapy, though, and I got an appointment to start seeing a therapist which the receptionist set up for me.

I drove up from Auburn and got my prescriptions filled at my uncle’s pharmacy.  He wasn’t at work today, but my aunt, who works with him, was glad to see me.  She was kind of surprised that I was getting my prescriptions filled with them instead of my father, though.  I told her it was complicated and hard to explain.  Luckily, the cost of my medications was completely covered by Medicare much to my relief.  I didn’t even have to pay a co-pay because I am on so much assistance as my father calls it. 

I am very pleased at how this visit turned out.  This needed to be done for years, but I was too afraid to take the initiative and buck the status quo.  I think it is an inalienable right to have control of your own healthcare – a basic human right that shouldn’t be infringed upon.  My only concerns are withdrawal symptoms from the cessation of my bipolar and antidepressant medications.  My doctor said I might feel out of sorts for a few days until these medications are out of my system.  I am hoping for the best!

It’s Something to Think About…

“There’s going to be an opening soon in electronics,” the androgynous Derrick told me this morning. “You would be perfect for the job with what you know.”

I thanked Derrick for the insider info, but I think I will stay at pulling in shopping carts.  That way I don’t have to deal with the public much which will be easier on my anxiety.  Also, I would hate to cause my supervisor distress.  She has a hard time finding people to do my job at the rate it pays, the hours, and with the heat of summer.  She has been so nice and accommodating to me and my disability I would hate to let her down.

Work was very slow again today.  I have come to realize this is the norm.  Those busy days when I first starting working were a fluke.  I am content to spend time in electronics occasionally helping a customer with questions.  I am always Omni-prescient of the cart situation, though.

I bought Dragon Age Origins on sale today looking forward to possibly getting back into playing video games although I rarely have the time to play these days.  I love fantasy adventure games and abhor those first person shooters that are all the rage with video game enthusiasts these days. 

I have also picked out a Blackberry Storm as my first cellphone.  It is $49.99 with a one year service plan contract.  Derrick highly recommends it saying it is the phone he owns.  I can’t wait to get to Twitter at work as I wander.  I also can’t wait to get to keep up with the weather radar at work.  My debit card should be here tomorrow or Saturday and then the deal is done.  If the Blackberry does all it is supposed to do Internet wise then I will not need an iPod Touch.  That will be a lot of money saved. $275 dollars worth.

The Scooter Obsession…

I have always loved motorcycles and scooters.  My neighbor has a Honda Elite 250 scooter for sale.  He wants $750 dollars for it.  I am so anxious to buy this thing to ride to work and save gas.  It will also save wear and tear on my aging car.  I told him late yesterday evening as we were looking at it that it would take me a few months to get up the money.  He said he would hold it for as long as he could.  Could I be the new proud owner of a fairly new Honda Elite scooter?  A few months time will tell.  I am quickly accumulating money with both my jobs.  Especially the yard care job which is paying extremely well these days.  

George’s Letter Today…

“Now that you’ve got a job, have you gotten laid yet?” George wrote today.  “A working man is more likely to get some pussy.  Women like that kind of thing.  It gets them excited.  I think it would go a long way to solving your mental health problems.  You’re backed up.”

I roared with laughter after reading that.  George is such a card.  He is yet to get my blog posts I have mailed to him about Kim.  There is a several day lag in the mail between our conversations.   I am not sure, though, that getting some “pussy” will solve all my anxiety issues, but they do say sex is a natural anti-depressant.  It might make me more upbeat than I already am these days. :-)

Healthcare Happenings…

I got my insurance cards from mom.

“What are you going to do with them?” she asked me at lunch after work. “Be sure not to lose them!”

“I am getting me a new psychiatrist,” I replied. “A nice female psychiatrist down in Auburn.”

Mom was very intrigued telling me to let her know how it goes.  She might want to change her doctor to this lady as well.  It would be nice to see mom take a more active role in her mental healthcare.  Mom is like me and is on a plethora of psychotropic medications that have made her fat and sleepy all the time.

I called a moment ago and got an appointment for next week with this new doctor.  I am going to wrestle control of my healthcare away from my father and into my own hands.  I feel this is a basic inalienable human right I have that shouldn’t be infringed upon. My hopes are to whittle down my medications to a more acceptable level and get a new diagnosis.  I really don’t think I am schizoaffective or schizophrenic at all.  Asperger’s syndrome and generalized anxiety disorder is seeming more and more likely the more I read about them.    

I also want a solution to my sexual dysfunction.  From what I’ve read, the most likely culprit is some of the anti-depressants I am taking.  Risperdal has never caused this.  It has been a medication added in the past two years after Rosa and I broke up.  I was fine when we were dating. 

An Eight Hour Day Tomorrow…

I drove over this morning to get my medications at 7:30 as dad and I had agreed last night.  Dad was not happy about it at all.  He said he kept hoping I would call him with a change of heart – to acquiesce.  Dad made me wait ten minutes to make sure I didn’t throw them up.  He didn’t say much to me to my surprising relief. I didn’t need a confrontation this morning or an argument before work or the anxiety that would ensue because of it. He sat eating his breakfast of toast and jam and watched the television as I sat and let the medications soak in.  He is really giving me the cold shoulder, though.  Dad can’t stand to be out of control of situations or me.  He controls pretty much everything my mother does and did for me as well for years. 

Having my medications in the morning REALLY helped me at work today!  I didn't have any anxiety whatsoever. None! It was so very encouraging and such a relief.  It made working so much more pleasant.  I took so much pride in my job today.  You remember how I kept saying for weeks that I felt fine from about 10pm to the early morning the next day?  My anxiety was at it’s worst from around 11am to 8pm at night.  This was because I was taking my medications in the evenings and they would wear off as I slept.  Now, I have their full effects during the day when I need them the most.  Now, I can just be anxious in my sleep when I won’t notice it. lol

I want to simplify my medications, though.  I think we can safely do without some of them. I feel eleven psychotropic medications on top of my antipsychotic injection is just too much to take.  These pills were added due to my father’s influence over my psychiatrist.  I take mood stabilizers, several antidepressants, bipolar medications, numerous anxiety medications, various antipsychotics, etc.  I think less is better as far as that chemical stew is concerned. 

I feel I have a lot of side effects from all these medications.  Especially sexually.  I haven’t thought of sex in months and months – really years since Rosa and I broke up and went our separate ways.  It never enters my mind and that is not healthy nor normal.  I would like to have a relationship again some day soon.  I want to take joy at marveling at a nice looking woman’s body.  I am already meeting lots of nice women at work.  Flirting is a new game for which I am exploring some and  it is exciting!  I have the self confidence and self esteem to do it these days.

I have to work a full eight hour day tomorrow.  My supervisor wants me to train the new guy she hired today.  She is going to let the teenager, Tim, working second shift go after his shift this afternoon.  She said he had called in too many times.  I kind of felt sorry for him.  I am such a softie.  I hate to see someone get fired.  He was a pretty nice guy, just kind of young and dumb about life.  Typical teenager stuff. 

It is supposed to rain tomorrow and I asked my supervisor what we do in inclement weather. 

“You need to buy some rain gear,” she told me. “We still work in the rain.  The store goes on. Wal-Mart never stops.”

I won’t mind.  It will be interesting.  You know I love the weather and I will get a chance to experience it first hand.  And it will be nice as the high temperatures are expected to drop ten degrees tomorrow.  Our heat wave we’ve been having is over for the time being after today when a cold front blows through.  I looked at the forecast before work this morning and we have a lot of potential rain ahead.  I guess I am going to get very wet in the upcoming week. Sloshy tennis shoes will abound.  I need to get some waterproof hiking boots so my feet stay dry.

I get about $1000 dollars a month in my disability allotment.  I haven’t had access to this money in probably five years. Over the years, dad has come to think of this as his money and not mine.  I am going to start talking to dad assertively about me having access to my disability account at the bank with a debit card to buy groceries, gasoline, sodas, cigarettes, and other sundry items.  He is going to balk, but I think it is about time I have some control over this again. It is my money after all.  If he doesn’t agree, then I will get a third party arbitrator as is my right within the guidelines of Social Security disability.  I can chose any representative payee I prefer at any time and I have thought of getting Mrs. Florene to do this.  She will just have to drive down to the Social Security office with me to sign the paperwork. It is a simple process and will only take a few minutes.  She would be overjoyed to help as always I am sure. 

One nice thing about having a disability income is that is takes away a lot of the stress and pressure of working as in worrying if I could lose my job to my disability.  I could always just quit and go back to my life as it was before.  Dad would be overjoyed and would welcome me back into the fold.  We would go back to our usual routines if nothing ever happened as far as my strive for independence is concerned.   Things would go back to normal – the status quo.  I am not saying this is going to happen, but it is a comforting thought to know I am safe and have a steady income despite my jobs.  Life is not going to come to a screeching halt if I can’t work or my efforts for independence falter.  I won’t end up homeless or penniless without work.

You know one thing I am noticing that is interesting these days since I have money again?  I don’t want to get shit faced drunk all the time when I am feeling well and anxiety free.  I’ve been too busy to stay drunk and my self esteem has a really big part to play in it as well.   I really don’t think I am an alcoholic and all those years I drank was because I was so miserable emotionally and mentally. Yes, I like the occasional couple of beers in the park – my sunset brews as I call them.  But I haven’t gotten drunk in a long time.  It just helps soothe what little anxiety I am experiencing these days after a hard day’s work.  I know you all are going to balk and scoff at me writing this! LOL  I have been labeled and it is going to be hard to break the stigma of it.  I will just have to prove it to you all over time as you read along with me on the blog about my life.

Well, I am going to eat a quick sandwich and head out to finish that yard care job and get paid my $75.  I am then driving down to Best Buy to buy that camera part this evening before they close.  Pictures of Maggie should be up in the morning! lol

The Cathartic Carts…

Work went well this morning.  I was a little tired from lack of sleep, but I handled it with aplomb. Today, I was quietly left to do my job with no supervision which was very, very nice. I wanted to settle into a regular and normal routine.  I want to know what to expect with each day with little surprises.  I didn’t want the socialization of yesterday that involved my coach showing me the ropes all morning.  I was thrown to the wolves as they say and I did fine.  There were only a few moments of stress when the carts seemed to back up faster than I could gather them, but I would eventually get caught up with persistence.  I kept having to tell myself that I used to be a research technician at a major university so surely I could handle this job.    

It is quite a solitary job other than the occasional contact with the greeter or a curious inquisitive customer and I quite like that part of it. It suites my social anxieties just fine.  It can be kind of cathartic gathering the carts and daydreaming as I do it.  I would get lost in my thoughts as I have so many grand plans rolling around in my head these days and the thoughts preoccupied me. The four hours flew by and I almost hated having to clock out and go home. It is so nice having something to do for a change even if it is such a menial task. I like the thought that there is going to be a nice paycheck in a few days on the way.  I am going to buy me a printer for my computer with my first paycheck and print out all my recent blog posts to send to George in jail.  He will love that.  That will be easier than trying to write him.  

No anxiety moments as well and I handled all social situations very well – even the situations involving my supervisor which usually make me very nervous. She’s been kind of doting over me about my disabilities – worrying about my ability to do the job.  I am feeling exceedingly well mentally these days, though.  I assured her at one point this morning that I was feeling fine – that I was going to do her a good job.  I can almost think I am not really schizophrenic or mentally ill and have just suffered from some sort of post traumatic stress disorder over the years from all the crap I have gone through in life to get this far.  I think the pressure my family puts on me has a lot to do with this which has about driven me crazy over the years thus the PTSD and my anxiety.

I thought I was going to be late when my alarm clock strangely didn’t go off, though, but I woke up in time to throw on some clothes, put on my smock, and then I quickly drove to work.  I had been up most of the night listening to Coast as I couldn’t sleep.  My schedule is still all out of whack after all these years of having no schedule whatsoever.  I am going to have to work on this.  I can’t be late for work.  Especially, not in the first few weeks.  I didn’t get a chance to shower.  I was running too late.  I put on lots of extra deodorant and took a quick sponge bath.  I smelled quite nice.  Like Old Spice.  In my haste, I also forgot my cooler of bottled water and ice at home and sorely missed it this morning.  It was a very hot and muggy morning today – a hard lesson to learn that will not be soon forgotten.  I hated to spend what little money I had on bottled water which is expensive – more expensive than gasoline.

“Do you need help with your groceries?” I asked this one nice looking lady as she exited the store and seemed to be struggling with her cart laden full of heavy items.

I had just corralled a big string of carts together to bring inside and was resting a moment in the parking lot before I added the mechanical pusher for the final push.

“That would be nice,” she replied. “Thank you.  I would appreciate it very much.”

I took a moment to unload her groceries into the back seat of her nice Toyota Tundra truck and she tipped me $5 dollars for the help.  I was elated.  That was so nice.  I used the $5 dollars to buy me some cold drinks thus saving the day money-wise.  I still have my $15 dollars left from my mowing yesterday.  I want to save it for gas for my mower and a special treat this evening.

I arrived home at lunch to find three messages on my answering machine.  They were all from Charlie.  He sounded frantic and disturbed.  My spirits sunk when I heard his message and realized what it was all about.  I hate this kind of frantic drama. 

“Andrew? Where are you? I was supposed to take you for your injection this morning at nine! I forgot!” Charlie said on the machine. “You father is going to kill us!  He will never trust me or you again!  You know how crazy he gets about you getting your injection.  He’s already called to see if you got it and I told him yes to cover for us.”

I had completely forgotten all about my antipsychotic injection.  I wistfully thought that’s why I have felt so well lately.  My medication had run out day’s ago.  I am tired of taking all these many pills and injections.  I think all these psychotropic medications I am on are a big part of my problems I have these days.  My brain is swimming in a chemical stew and these doctors aren’t really quite sure how they will affect us over the long term.  I have been labeled mentally ill and it is going to be one of my biggest battles to break that stigma and label. 

Charlie picked me up at 12:30pm and frantically drove me down to the pharmacy to pick up my injection and then to the doctor’s office as if any minute I would break out in a fit of craziness from lack of medication.  My regular nurse, Rebecca, was on vacation much to my chagrin when we arrived.  I had Crystal this afternoon to contend with and she can never figure out how to prepare my injection.  I had to do it as usual when she is there.  Also, small talk with her is a supreme struggle with her being as aloof as I and it makes me feel so awkward.  I missed my usual nurse – the talkative Rebecca that makes me feel so at ease and at home.  

“Where were you this morning?” Charlie asked inquisitively as we drove home up through the Valley. “You rarely leave the house.  It’s odd for you to not be there.”

“I was at work,” I replied sheepishly, but honestly. “I started a new job yesterday at Wal-Mart.”

“You know your father is going to shit a brick,” Charlie told me as he looked alarmed. It took him a few minutes to gather himself when I said it.  He about didn’t know how to respond. “What made you take a job?  Do you think you are actually able to work?”

“I just feel I need to be more independent.  Charlie, I get so tired of never having any money and sitting at home all the time with nothing to do. I want something productive to do with my days and my life. I want to build my self esteem.  I just want to be able to buy some goddamned groceries without getting the third degree when I run out!”

“Well, I can understand that,” Charlie said empathetically. “But I’m not sure your father will.  He will think you will spend all your pay drinking your days away.  He is maniacal about you and that drinking.”

“Charlie! I am 38 years old!” I exclaimed loudly and excitedly. “I am not some child!  I have to be able to make those choices for myself.  Dad can’t make them for me.  At one point in my life, dad was trying to find me jobs when I was married.  It was he who got me the job at Auburn which I hated with a passion – all that stress!  He thought it was prestigious and would brag about his son being a research technician all the time.  It was one of the most miserable times of my life.”

“I know,” Charlie replied. “Let’s just don’t worry about it.  We won’t mention it to your father until he gets home Thursday.  Let’s go get us some lunch.  I am hungry.  I want that Arby’s #19 special again.”

I smiled and agreed – relieved that moment had passed.  It was uncomfortable to talk about.  The #19 special would be nice.

We quietly sat in Arby’s and ate our meals until Charlie struck up a conversation again.  He wanted to know about work and what I was doing.  He was worried about my hours and pay, and how it would effect my disability allotment. He works for the government after all and knows what sticklers they can be. His job is deciding what funds can be allocated to certain community action projects. 

“I just carry the carts into Wal-Mart from the parking lot,” I told him.  “That’s all I do.  It is an easy and simple job, if not hot at times.  There is little stress involved.  A teenager works the shift after me to give you an idea of how easy the job is.”

“How are your anxiety issues holding up?” Charlie then asked.

“I am doing amazingly well so far, but I’ve only worked two days,” I replied. “I have really surprised myself with how well I am doing mentally.  My morning medications you give me at night have helped a lot with the anxiety.  I’ve had a few mental moments, but nothing that didn’t pass with some rest and a drink of water.”

“Well, you be careful,” Charlie said. “You know I am going to worry like hell about you.  I don’t want you to bite off more than you can chew.  I think your father will worry most that this will get you off mentally – the pressure of it all.  Work is a lot of pressure on a man.  And you haven’t worked in a very, very long time.”

“I know,” I said. “I sometimes wish I was a penis-less orphan.  I could never have kids to worry me and I wouldn't have an overbearing family of overachievers to contend with and that make me feel like shit and a lout all the time.”

Charlie burst out laughing and hugged me as we got up from our table to head to his car.  Charlie drove me home and then headed for work late.  I am about to head out for the afternoon to drum up some yard care work.  I hope to mow at least two lawns today for $20 dollars each.  I am headed over to the neighborhood a few blocks over from mine and see if I have better luck over there.  I’ve seen quite a few yards that need mowing when I drove through there a moment ago in preparation on a scouting trip in my Honda. 

My Thoughts at the End of the Blogging Day…

You Just Gotta Laugh…

Imagine my excitement a moment ago when I found a twitterer who was following countless doctors of psychiatry.  Much following ensued.  I was excited to hear what these doctors had to say.  I wanted to hear about their practices.  The medications they prescribe.  Their feelings on being doctors of psychiatry.  Much to my chagrin, they turned out to be the most egregious group of Twitter link linkers I have ever encountered.  They were posting all these countless links that had no merit towards me and my mental illness.  Unfollowing ensued fast.  I was so disappointed.  I thought I had found the mother lode for mental health on Twitter.  Instead, I get a bunch of doctors posting countless and useless links to articles about psychiatry and mental illness.  I can look for and find that stuff on Google myself in my own time.  I wanted to hear personal things – wanting to get to know the doctors and develop a report.  Oh well, you just gotta laugh.  I am slowly learning my way around Twitter still it seems.

Restlessness…

I am feeling some discomfort this afternoon mentally.  My injection is again well near being this Tuesday.  I feel restless and uneasy  -- this feeling of doom and dread overcoming me.  I just called mom to talk about it, but she was out of it and couldn’t speak long or coherently.  I moved my bed again so I could lie down and use this computer.  That seems to help.  I am prescribed extra Risperdal – twenty to be exact just for these occasions.  I just can’t call dad and ask for them though.  He suspects I will abuse them – one of the many dangers of crying wolf once too often just to get a buzz from my medications.  I will soldier through, though, as I always do and eagerly await Tuesday.  Tuesday will be a day of euphoria and I can’t wait – to feel that high giddiness and to feel my version of normal for a day.  The calm comfort of another two weeks of slow release antipsychotic medication.

I’ve actually been doing so well lately and it’s been nice.  Today’s uneasiness is nothing compared to the mental torture I would experience on a daily basis just a year ago.  We seem to have found a comfortable stasis with my medication regime.  I have to remember it’s all relative.  It is easy to let my discomfort get the better of me not remembering the past.  This is a walk in the park. 

Well, I am off to eat my supper of lasagna and read for several hours.  I finished Gone with the Wind last night and will start another book of Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles.  I have really enjoyed that series, but each book gets less enjoyable than the last.  You can tell she was running out of words at the end.  Good night dear friends and I hope you all have a wonderful day tomorrow.   It’s Friday – the front porch of the weekend.  

Thoughts for the Day…

Give Me a Shot of Viagra, Doc!

I watched as my psychiatrist pulled out his iPhone and calculated my ideal weight this morning.  

“You’re at 180. Your ideal weight for your height,” he said, smiling broadly.  “On your last visit, you weighed 167.”

I could hear dad breathe a deep sigh of relief.  My weight has been an all encompassing obsession with him lately.

“Are you having any side effects?” Dr. Kern asked as he began to write out my prescriptions. 

I asked dad to leave the room at that moment.  I wanted some privacy and one on one time with my doctor.  Dad reluctantly agreed and left to go sit in the waiting room.

“I am effectively castrated by my medications,” I said. “Do you think Viagra will help?”

A quizzical look drew across my doctor’s face.

“The Viagra would give you an erection, but you wouldn’t feel any passion or lust,” he replied.

“That’s what I want!” I replied, impassioned.  “I want to feel longing and lust.  It has been years!”

My doctor looked more closely at my medications.

“You’re on the highest dose of Risperdal prescribed,” he said. “That is most likely the culprit. We could start to gradually reduce the dosage and see how you do.” 

“I just want to look at a beautiful woman and feel excited instead of my usual ambivalence.”

My doctor smiled and wrote out a prescription for half the dosage of Risperdal I normally get injected. 

“We may have to put you on another anti-psychotic,” he said, warning me.

“So be it,” I replied.

Dad balked when I handed him the prescription and he read it.  “But you were doing so well on the 50mg dosage,” he protested.  We had our reasons and I don’t think dad would like being a eunuch as well. 

Maggie The Psychiatrist…

Sleep, Wonderful Sleep…

“What’s worrying you?” my psychiatrist asked yesterday upon telling him I have terrible insomnia these days.

I thought for a long second.

“My computer,” I finally replied. “Dad ordered me a new 2 Terabyte hard drive and it still hasn’t come in.  I am very anxious about it.”

My psychiatrist smiled telling me how much he loves to work on his home computers as well.  “A man of my own heart,” I thought.

“I’m hesitant to prescribe any more medications,” he told me. “You are already on so many.  I am going to give you some relaxation CDs and I want you to listen to them before bed.”

I was extremely dubious of these CDs.  I scoffed internally.  How can a mere compact disc of a lady talking and music help you sleep eight hours?  I was wrong.  I put a CD in my stereo before bed, undressed, climbed in my covers, and slept for eight hours in the first time for weeks.  I woke up feeling so good!

My hard drive came last night.  I was so excited to get it installed.  It only took around five minutes, but it took an hour to backup all my files.  Now I have some peace of mind that all my files are mostly duplicated and protected.

Let’s All Pile On…

It’s only been a day since I’ve been recovering from my close call with my mental illness.  I was sitting here yesterday obsessing over the supposed snow we are getting when my psychiatrist’s office called.

“Just wanted to remind you you have an appointment with Dr. Kern in the morning at 8 AM,” she said perkily.

“Fuck!” was the exact word I muttered after hanging up.  Sorry to sensitive eyes and ears!

I called dad and he wasn’t too happy about it.  He had forgotten as well.

“I was hoping to have a day off,” he told me sounding disappointed.

I told him to look on the bright side.  We could get some of those delectable sausage biscuits at Hardee’s afterwards in the morning.  

I plan on talking to my psychiatrist about my insomnia.  I can only sleep around 3 or 4 hours at a time then I am up for 8 hours or more.  I feel tired all the time.  Maybe he will give me something to take to solve this little problem (joy!). 

On top of that tomorrow, I have to go buy groceries and I dread it immensely.  I am thinking of just getting twenty cans of Chef Boyardee for $20 dollars and a few jugs of Milo’s sweet tea and calling it quits.  Mom will have a fit, though -  saying that is a terrible diet and that I need some kind of vegetables and fruits.