Watching the World Go By...

Stirring the Witches Cauldron...

Well, I have finally figured out what was causing the anxiety attacks all these years.  Dad absentmindedly left a blister pack of my medications a few nights ago.  Curious me couldn't leave well enough alone and I have been experimenting with my medications all week.  I took 3 lithium.  My normal dosage.  And had a classic anxiety attack.  I thought I was going to have to go to the emergency room.  It's gonna get ugly, ugly tonight when I tell dad I am not taking the Lithium anymore.  He will be unwaveringly stoic and unbending about it.  So shall I. 

Let the Heavens open and pour forth...

Those of you that have read me a long time know my affection for keeping up with the weather.   I just wanted you to know it is raining here and hard.   The day just gets better.  

The Calvary Arrives...

I was pretty pitiful this morning.  Maggie was sulking as well.  I was down to my last two cigarettes and one diet coke.  I had plenty of orange drink, but somehow that just didn't hold the same appeal of a caffeinated coke.  I was in the kitchen eating some cheese toast as Maggie just went crazy in the den.  She seemed to be implying that, "Momma's here!  Momma's here!"  It was the earliest I've seen my mother up in years.

"I thought you needed some TLC this morning," mom said walking up the front steps of my house. "I had to get my teeth cleaned this morning."

In a sack were six diet cokes, a carton of Doral Lights, and some nail clippers. 

"I went to Wal-Mart to get you the nail clippers," mom said. "You need to clip your nails."

I smiled.  My mother never was one to dance around a delicate issue.  

"Thank you," I told her. "You turned around what was going to be a tough day."

"Well, I love you," mom replied.

Mom didn't stay long.  After playing with Maggie, she headed home to crawl back in the bed.  She really, really made my morning today.  It is hard to believe we were in a tussle a few days ago.

Mental Wellness Medications...

A moment ago I was sitting in my parent's den.  My father was talking very animatedly to my brother about the football game last night.  The whole room began to spin.  I had gotten too excited and have to be careful about that.  Dad hung up the phone and said, "What's wrong?  You look white as a ghost!"  I had just taken my medications and was on a fifteen minute timer for when my father was satisfied my medications had begun to dissolve in my stomach. 

"I am not feeling very well," I told my father. "I got too excited about taking my medications and talking to my brother."

"We've all got to slow down," dad said. "Your mother included."

"You can drive home now," my father finally said standing up and walking me to the backdoor. 

"Good thing we took my mental illness medications," I said standing in the threshold. 

"Let's call them mental wellness medications," dad said with a smile to add a positive connotation.   

I looked at him and just grinned and said, "I like that. We need to put a positive spin on all of mental illness.  Your life is not over when you get schizophrenia."

All this was on the cusp of reuniting with a lost friend on the Internet and how I could delicately write to them that I have schizophrenia.  They are asking a lot of question about my "illness" that I've been very vague about.   Mental wellness indeed. 

More Sleeping In...

A Gourmet Gift...

I gave Mrs. Jones her coffee this morning.   She was very, very appreciative and it made me feel good.  I have grown to love her like a grandmother and she means the world to me. 

George was kind of quiet this morning.  He was running low on money and Sunday arrived before he could buy some whiskey.  It's the Bible belt and they don't sell alcohol on Sundays around here.  I am sure Mrs. Jones was elated in that her son's drinking embarrasses her. 

I have a long day today.  I am feeling kind of strange this morning mentally and am biding my time till mom and dad wake up and I can get my medications. 

I am berating myself for putting up that video of me yesterday.  It was silly and I look silly.  I have noticed that many blog writers carefully guard their looks on their blogs.   Many people I have read for years and have no idea of what they look like. 

The Diet Coke Fiasco Ends...

Sleeping In...

I couldn't make up my bed like I usually do.  I had a bed bug and pillow hog.  It will probably be around lunch before Maggie decides to stir.  It is fun to poke her while she sleeps though.  She'll make this jerking motion like a reflex. 

Here's Some Eggs. Eat Up!

I was asking George this morning what would be a good gift to get his mom.  Something she usually couldn't afford.  She's done so much for me and I wanted to do something for her. 

"Get her some of that gourmet coffee," George said. "She drinks coffee all day and loves the stuff.  She won't buy the expensive coffee though."

I had ten dollars squirreled away and hoped that would be enough.  I shied away from borrowing money from George.

I was over at George's house at 7:30 this morning.  About the time he gets home from work.  Mrs. Jones had cooked breakfast like she does for George every morning.  I wasn't shy about filling my plate full of scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.  It was a good start to the day.

*****

The Great Diet Coke Fiasco...

Mom wouldn't take my calls last night.  They have caller I.D. and she could see it was me.  My mom is like her mother and will hold a grudge for months.  I wanted to nip this in the bud.  I left a message.  I groveled. 

"I love you," I told her. "I was wrong and shouldn't have said those things to you.  You are the only person who understands me and it is going to drive me crazy that you are not talking to me."

That was it.  Short and sweet.  I told Dad to tell her I love her, too.  Dad was really taking all this in; this fight between me and mom.

"How is your mind?" Dad then asked me. "Is the extra Risperidone helping?"

"My mind was going a hundred miles an hour last night this time," I told him. "Things are quiet and calm tonight."

That was a good cue for dad to give me a hug and say goodnight.  Maggie and I were soon in the bed as well and we both slept fitfully.  

The Journey to Medicine Land...

I had an early appointment with my psychiatrist today.  When I made the appointment, I was this gibbering mess of a human being.  I was much better and more composed today. I almost canceled. 

My doctor upped the dosage of my primary anti-psychotic three more milligrams.  I am already at a very high dosage and there are concerns I am growing resistant to my medications.  I noticed my doctor dotted his i's and crossed his t's by making me sign a legal waver about my medications.  That if I developed tardive dyskenesia, a neurological disorder, I couldn't sue him for what he's worth.  

I swung by my father's pharmacy on the way home.  He was surprised I went to the doctor alone.  He was pleased that my doctor upped my anti-psychotic though.  I have taken the medication and feel almost high and giddy.  Who needs crack?

Don't worry.  This post gets interesting.

Mom told me a moment ago that I had already drank enough diet coke for the week.  She was asserting her authority and boy did it backfire. 

"To hell you're going to tell me when I can drink a coke or not, " I told her. "I am 37 years old and not some school kid."

There are 10 cases of diet cokes in mom and dad's garage.  These are for me.  I opened the garage door and stuck two cases in my Honda.

"And while you are at it," I told my mother. "You can kiss my ass."

"You can't have those cokes," mom said one last time walking out of the garage.

I drove home and now feel terrible.  Keep the peace?  Or drink the now guilt inducing cokes?  It has been one of those days.  Just a bunch of crazy people trying to have relationships that are dysfunctional at best.  

Dog Tired...

Maggie just sent up the cue that its time to go to bed.  I was in the den watching a diamond themed show on ShopNBC when Maggie walked in and collapsed on the floor in front of me.  It has been a hard day of barking at kitties and keeping an eye on pedestrians. 

Speaking of kitties. Maggie's learned a new trick.  I get on the couch and tell Maggie to "get the kitty" and she will go ape shit bananas trying the find the cat in the yard as she growls and barks ferociously. I can't do it too often for fear she will learn that I am crying wolf.   

Mom is in one of her "I can't be alone" phases.  She was over at lunch asking me a hundred questions.  "Why are you browning the ground beef in the microwave?" "Why are you hoarding these plastic bags?" "Why does the moon revolve around the Earth?"  You get the gist.  I did cook my tacos at lunch today and they were delicious.

"How many weight watchers points are these tacos?" I asked mom.

"I don't know and I don't care," mom replied as she put on some cheese and an extra dollop of sour cream. 

That elicited the biggest grin out of me.  My grandmother, dad's mom, was like that.  She liked to make people feel good about eating and to cook like it will always bring them back.   

Good Days, They're Here...

This morning started with me running over my grandmother's recipe for pimento cheese sandwiches to George's mom.  Mrs. Jones was busy in the kitchen watching the stove as some biscuits baked. She gave me a piece of sublime bacon to eat and I headed back home.

Dad picked me up at ten.  Amazingly, it is becoming hard to find a Hardee's around here in the South.  They have the best breakfast biscuits.  We found one in Columbus and gorged ourselves on steak biscuits and diet cokes.

Good news!  I am discharged from physical therapy.  Not feeling well lately turning getting to physical therapy a thrice of the week ordeal.  That, and I hated the damned exercise bicycle they wanted me to ride every morning.

I am home now just enjoying a peaceful mind.  You really appreciate the good days.  I now know how a crack addict felt when getting high on crack.  Life mentally well is addicting. 

Through all I've been through these past few weeks, Maggie still gets her daily walk.  She was strutting her stuff this afternoon as we paraded through the neighborhood.   There were also the mandatory stops at the fences of various dogs in the neighborhood.  Your standard sniffing each other through the fence type stuff went on.       

Serenity...

Today was the first day in weeks that I experienced mental peace.  My mind wasn't at war with itself.  I had a wonderful day of smoking which I only enjoy mentally stable.  I had a few treasured cokes as well.

Tomorrow I look forward to seeing my neurosurgeon in Columbus, Ga.  Dad and plan on getting us some steak biscuits in the morning and for that I am excited.  Let's hope this sudden turn in me mentally is not an aberration.  

Ready to Write...

I've decided blogging has meant so much to me to try and continue.  This blog will be mainly a daily log of my symptoms with the characters in my life's various comings and goings.

Today was almost unbearable until later in the day.  I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin.  I drove around in my car and that seemed to distract me some.  Charlie came around six with my medications.  I can usually feel 100X better in an hour.  It is almost intoxicating and makes me feel like being creative.

The doldrums have a certain noticeable affect on me when my mental illness acts up.  Keeping up appearances takes on a distance third in my life's lists of priorities.  I forced myself to shower and then shave.  It does make you feel better.

My non fair weather friend stopped by tonight.  I am candid with George as far as my mental illness goes.  He will ask me if I need some space many days.  He brought me a Captain D's 3 piece fish plate for supper. I hadn't eaten all day and it was much appreciated.  

The Traveler...

There are days you don't want to wake up.  Restless nights.  Nightmare hours of panic and dread.  I haven't even been online much in two weeks except for 15 minutes to check on Cheryl, Professor, and Annabel.   I am caught in the throes of one the worst spells I can ever remember with my mental illness. 

Until this malaise lets up some, I going to be light as far as the travels of me on the web go.  Nothing interests me online anymore.  There was a certain "craft" to blogging.  Facebook and other popular web apps drive a socially phobic person like me crazy.  Twitter was blogging for ADHD people. 

Well, I've probably overspoken, outspoken, and just generally botched up this blog post.  I am going to bed where kinder nightmares await. 

Mr. Clean...

We, the family, have a lot of wayward members of our clan returning next week for a reunion of sorts.  A few people are going to stay with me since I have three beds.  I almost panicked, but finally calmed down and started to get my house in tip top shake.  I literally have been cleaning since 9 this morning.  Posts may be kind of light and sporadic for a few days.  I will do my best to drop in and say hello.  Hell, I may even have some good stores to tell.  Dad's side of the family are eccentric and odd. 

Therapied....

Boy, did they work my knee and foot this morning.  "Keep giving me ten more pulls," was what I heard a hundred times this morning.  Then, they hooked me up to this electrical stimulus machine.   I will just be nice and say it was certainly stimulating.

Mom sat in the lobby and read a book.  Dad calls her our secretary.  She takes care of all the little details like getting my appointments set up for next week.

"You ready to go?" mom asked as I walked into the lobby finished.

You could tell she was ready to drive home even if it had only been 45 minutes.

"Let's get a biscuit!" mom then said loudly on the drive home and pulled into McDonald's.

She turned abruptly enough and fast enough that I had to grab the "OH SHIT!" bar.

"Hunger Strikes!" I said loudly and both of us laughed. 

I won't tell you what happened next because it was gross.  Let's just say mom had an accident in the McDonald's bathroom.  I was glad to get my two sausage biscuits though.       

It's Getting to be a Good Thing...

I ate breakfast with Mrs. Jones and George again this morning.  This is getting to be a regular thing every Sunday.  She cooked poached eggs on toast with cheddar sprinkled on the top.  I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  She could make a dish rag taste good.

I left as George was taking his mother to church. 

"I am coming over later," George told me.

"I hope you're sober," I mumbled under my breath.

The parental units should get home today.  I restart therapy tomorrow after a week's break.  I am apprehensive about it. The foot and knee are doing great though.  

After Hours here at 4th Avenue...

It rained yesterday.  One big thunderous bulbous cloud parked over my house and let it all out.  My only lament was that my grass would begin to grow again along with the need to mow it.  I smiled when I went outside to make sure my car was locked and I heard cicadas singing and more thunder.  It was the quintessential southern Saturday evening.

I am up late.  Charlie brought McDonald's tonight.  A Big Mac and fries to be specific.  It did a number on my gastro intestinal system.  Terrible heart burn I tell you.  I am drinking whole milk which usually works for said ailment.   

Caretaker Charlie...

Charlie is my caretaker this week since dad and mom are in Birmingham with my sister.  He is taking real good care of Maggie and I.  Last night, he grilled burgers and dogs and brought me and Maggie some.  The night before, his wife cooked a wonderful macaroni salad, pork loin, black eyed peas, and corn bread. 

I noticed today that Maggie has not eaten her Purina One in weeks.  I guess she is getting enough food from me.  The little portly thing certainly hasn't lost any weight.  But she isn't fat either so all is well.

Every day it is the same.  The highlight of my day is getting my psychiatric medications.  I used to hate to take them because I thought my family was trying to control my behavior with them.

Well, the two little yellow Klonopin are a Godsend.  I am typically a nervous, jittery fellow normally.  I take those pills and it is coolsville. 

Crazy Chicken Eyes...

The funniest thing just happened.  I was driving George's car and we had just come from my father's pharmacy.  I was getting some cokes.  As we were coming up through the Valley, I passed KFC.

"You gotta watch out for those KFC customers," George told me telling me to be careful. "Dey got chicken on the brain."

I roared with laughter.  George couldn't figure out what was so funny about it.  I guess you had to be there as well. 

Entering the World...

My sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy yesterday.  I was beginning to worry we weren't going to have any boy grandchildren in the family.  Dad called me and was so excited.

"He's just beautiful," he said over the phone. "Your sister is fine."

My main concern was my sister.  Despite being a doctor she is delicate and frail.  Almost waif like.  

******

The Tomcat....

George has developed a routine every morning.  It reminds me of the crusty old tomcat that prowls our yards late in the evening every day.  As soon as he gets off work in the morning, he heads south from LaGrange back to the valley.  Mrs. Jones has him a big breakfast ready.  Must be nice.  Soon, he heads out to prowl his territory after eating.

"Pookie is getting out of county jail soon," George told me this morning.

"OH JOY!" is what I thought comically in my mind.  "More debauchery for George."

George left my house to head to another neighborhood.  A neighborhood known to be a place to hang out and sip the suds.    

Dangerous Rum...

George came by about the time I was eating breakfast.  A strawberry Poptart and a glass of milk.

"What is in the flask?" I asked him as he kept imbibing. 

"Rum," George said with a big toothy grin.  "Want some?"

It was the closest I had come to drinking in the past few years.  In my mind I could feel the warmness of the alcohol coursing through my veins.  The numbness in my hands and the urge to sleep away the day.  Alcohol is the great escape. 

George was also the bringer of mixed news.  Mixed in that I didn't know what to make of it.

"That ex-girlfriend of yours has moved to Atlanta to live with her daughter," George told me. "Ferret told me this morning."

A pang of longing for Rosa shot out through my heart.  I miss her much of the time.  Can't cry over spilt milk, though. 

Operation Oil Change...

Sometimes little gifts are bestowed upon us and it is best to always remember them later to give in return and to say, "Thank you."

Mom had asked me about changing the oil in my car yesterday.  Now follow me closely in that me getting an oil change is a gargantuan feat.  It takes a carefully orchestrated ordeal to get my car out to AMAC and get this done.  I can't pay for them.

"When was the last time you had your oil changed?" Mom asked yesterday.

"The week my stolen car was returned to me by the police," I told her.

"That's been two years!" mom exclaimed.  

Well, dearest mom followed me out there this morning and I have an oil pan of clean, fresh oil now.  I'm not too worried about engine damage since I've driven less than one thousand miles in those two years.  It is nice to have peace of mind though.  That is the only car I am going to have for the foreseeable future.  Thank you mom.  I love you. 

Enter Door Here --->

I drove over for my cokes this morning.  On dad's bedside table was a bottle of Barcardi rum.  Half empty.  "No," I said. "It couldn't be him." Still, it worried me. 

Mom was asleep in the bed as the new alarm service was installing an alarm. The house was wide open to anybody who wanted to take anything.  It was all rather strange. 

"Where's dad?"

"He's at work."

"Where's Helen?"

"She had a doctor's appointment."

Cary, the alarm guy was busily whistling a tune under the house as he strung wire.

"Mom, I'm going to ask you something and please don't get defensive.  I honestly want to know."

"Okay," mom said looking at me warily.

"Do you actually sleep all this time in the bed?  Do you daydream? Do you just dream if you sleep?"

"I actually sleep most of the time," mom said. "I take 3 Xanax at night and have become accustomed to sleeping in the day."

That answered one mystery except my parent's house was full of mysteries that went unanswered this morning.    

Breakfast from many Avenues...

I ate breakfast with George and his mom this morning.  Mrs. Jones had prepared a hashbrown casserole and fried bacon. 

"Why do black people in the South go to church so long?" I asked Mrs. Jones.

Main service can often last for 3 hours or more.  

"They didn't have anything better to do back then," she said with a smile.  "Some things just stay the same even after time."

I left George's house and headed to mom and dad's a few blocks over.  I needed to get my daily allotment of caffeine.  Dad and Charlie were eating a McDonald's breakfast on the back deck.  Dad looked like he had been playing in the dirt he was so dirty from yard work.  Charlie offered up the idea that I do physical therapy when dad comes every night with my medications.  I have some of the resistance bands at home.

"I don't know," I said apprehensively. 

"You about fell walking up the steps," dad quipped. 

"We'll give a try I guess," I finally muttered with little zeal. 

Maggie's in the bed today.  I guess it's just one of those dog days of summer best slept away.  If I could sleep, then I would be in the bed with her.  She looks so comfortable.     

Lonely...

I can't go to mom's because she needs her sleep.  Dad works all the time.  And George has been obsessively drunk these days (and still managing to keep his job).

I was doing so well on my Coureg CR 50 mg.  I took a turn for the worse this weekend.  I've barely been out of the house.  Physical therapy is turning out to be than I can handle.  3 times a week and I struggle to get there.

"I am going with you next week," mom told me to make sure I go.  "You need to go for your leg to heal and for the nerve to get better."

I guess I've kind of had the funks lately.  Not wanting to do anything that interests me.  A week went by without me turning on this computer.

Maggie's laying on the bed.  She's as happy as a clam.  Helen cooked center cut pork chops yesterday and they were delicious. It really helps having someone else whose human in the house.

Oh, I got a postcard from Cheryl at Myrtle Beach.  Thank You!  I so needed that the other day.  To feel connected to my blog friends again.    

Big, Giant Leaps for Andrew-kind...

Yesterday was a big momentous day for my rehabilitation.  I drove myself to get my injection and didn't need any help.  Normally, Tim, my father's employee, would pick me up and take me.   Tim would wait in the waiting room and then make sure I got another appointment. 

"Come here," my father asked me as I was standing in his pharmacy.

Dad brought me over to Tim's little cubicle.

"He did it himself," dad told Tim excitedly.  "He got his shot without help."

I started to grow embarrassed and dad caught on to this.

"Attaboy!" Tim said with a kind smile on his face.  "I actually like getting out of this store to take you."

*****

Mom started the "he's out of gas" bullshit last night.  My mother can be so obsessive compulsive. 

"She's afraid she is going to have to do it," dad told me as we met at Fat Albert's to fill of my car.

"She called me five freaking times on the phone tonight," I told dad.

"That's your mother," dad said laughing.

"Mom sure can make life complicated, but we would do without if it wasn't for her help."

Where were you?

I was sitting over at mom's and dad's last night when a special on Walter Kronkite and the death of President Kennedy came on the television. 

"Where were you when that happened?" I asked mom and dad.

"High School," mom said. "We were changing classes."

"I was walking out to my car in the High School parking lot," dad replied. "This kid named Richard walked by me and said, 'Glad that nigger lovin' son of a bitch is dead.'"

That last statement got us on the subject of segregation.

"The black lady that worked for us back then," dad replied.  "Said it would be about as north as Kentucky before you would start seeing integrated bathrooms while traveling."

It is hard for me to fathom all this.  Schools were integrated when I went through.  For mom and dad, they were segregated.  It is hard to believe that we would separate people due to the melanin content of their skin.

*****

I'm cleaning house today.  Not my most favorite chore.  I've cleaned my bathroom and mopped my kitchen floor.  I just turned on the air conditioning so the floors will dry quicker.  Maggie freaks out with all of this going on and is sitting outside in the heat of the afternoon.  Bless her.  Someone must have abused her before I got her as a puppy. 

What's that smell?

"What's that smell?" I asked Helen walking into the kitchen yesterday. 

"Deep fried chicken livers," Helen replied. "Your mother requested them."

"Well, that's really going to help with the diet," I thought.

Chicken livers are an acquired taste.   I used to love them, but have lost the taste for them over the years.  Maggie goes nuts for them.

I didn't say anything to mom about this diet anomaly as I quietly ate my baked chicken.  She happily ate her supper even bragging on Helen.     

Over Hill and Dale...

I occasionally have these fits of depression.  "Tell your psychiatrist," dad keeps telling me.  "You have struggled with this for years - ever since you were a small child."  By the time an appointment rolls around, I feel better so mums the word.  I personally don't want to be put on any more medications.  I equally hate experiencing these depressive fits so it's a Catch-22. 

My dear little darling dog is playing hooky today.  She's stretched out on the bed watching The Weather Channel.  Normally, she would be spending her time watching and guarding for the countless pedestrians that walk the road in front of my house.  I wish I was like her and could just sleep on a whim. I will occasionally walk into the room, sit down, pet Maggie, and see what the weather is doing.  She can really put on a lackadaisical show as she stretches her body fully and looks content.

Helen's been over here cooking today.  We are still trying to help mom with her diet.  It is going to be another baked chicken day, but Helen is going to spice them up with some barbecue sauce.  The smells coming from kitchen are currently heavenly. 

I am super relieved I don't have to have surgery.  I will still have to go twice a week for rehabilitation, though.  Mom went today to buy me a watch so I will know what time to be at the hospital.  "She did that so she won't have to take you," dad said, laughing.    

Exit Stage Left...

I almost decided not to write anymore.  It is not as if I've been writing nothing but mental fluff for months now anyway.

I went to see the neurosurgeon one last time yesterday.  Dad and and I drove down to Columbus, Georgia.

"I've decided you don't need surgery," the surgeon said. "You need rehabilitation." 

Dad and I both looked at each other and grinned.  The exercises the surgeon gave me a few weeks ago were working.   I've regained some movement in my once lead-like foot. 

*******

Helen cooked her best ever meal last Friday.  I have been bragging on her ever since.  Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, English peas, biscuits, and fruit salad.  I thought I was in culinary heaven. 

This morning Helen was changing all the linens in mom's and dad's house.  Mom and the cats had been relegated to dad's room temporarily. Mom was snoring softly so I just quietly got my diet cokes and left.    

In Da 'Hood...

"Jesus Christ," I heard my father mumble when my psychiatrist prescribed me 75 Klonopin for one month today.  Klonopin is very similar to Valium.

"He used to wouldn't prescribe you 20 a month and now this," Dad continued as we walked out to his car.  "I don't get the man."

Of course, I was perfectly happy to have more of the only pills that seem to stop an anxiety attack when they start.

"At least we won't run out," I said taking a positive turn on events. 

Tomorrow, Dad and I head for Columbus, Georgia to talk to the neurosurgeon and finalize any details for my surgery.  Dad is worried all of this doctor shit and appointment crap is going to send me over the edge. 

"If you let her," my father said on the drive home. "Your mother can got your life appointed and anointed."

Hold Your Horses...

Nothing is more fun than taking Maggie's leash and harness out of the closet.  She just about can't contain her self she gets so excited.

I stopped and talked my elderly neighbor Ed who lives down the street.  He has a little Boston Terrier named Dixie.  Ed is suffering from bouts of dementia.  He has to go in the hospital for a few days and asked if I would keep Dixie.  I was elated to be chosen to do that. Maggie is going to have a field day.  She will probably drive poor Dixie nuts.