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.