I've been thinking a lot about Andrew lately. Chuck has come to find out that he is being released from rehab next Monday. He has not even called us once since he has been in. Chuck got this information from talking with Tracey, Andrews' girlfriend.
I can bet you my last dollar on how the scenario will play out. Sometime around the end of the week his counselor will facilitate a call home so that he can ask for $280.00 to go to Williamsburg, the chem-free house.
A part of me asks how long do I keep just shelling out money? $400.00 here, $280.00 there. And we won't even add up the thosounds in the past. When does the bank ever dry up? Is that all I am to him these days. A bank, and a flop house where he can hang when he has no where else he can go? When do I stop enabling him and make him go it alone?
The other part of me says- He is my child, I brought him in to this world. My Lord would not give up on me. God would never tell me enough is enough, you no longer have my support and must go it on your own.
I simply don't know the right thing to do for Andrew. People tell me I must cut the apron strings and make him go it on his own- if not for his sake, then for my own sanity.
If God had done that with me, he never would have allowed his Son to die on the cross for my sins so that I may know him and have everlasting life.
What is a mothers' Love to do? Please share your comments.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Paradise, better known as Assateague Island
As a kid, we always took numerous vacations and one of those vacations was always to the shores of Assateague Island. We would spend several weeks at this spectacular National Seashore. As we would near the ocean, Dad would say with adventure in his whole being, "Can you smell it? You can smell it!" All the windows were feverishly cranked down and heads popped out to soak in the aroma. He would get all the occupants of the car in a buzz- it was the brisk perfume of salt water filling the air. That meant we were nearing our destination. Soon, we would be at the BEACH!
Assateague Island at that time was untouched, unspoiled and very primitive. There were no paved roads, no drinking water, and no indoor showers. There was no camp store to provide ice or forgotten rations. And worst of all, the Island had biting flies that were the size of bumble bees. But it was all worth the inconviences to be on the most breathtaking beach of the East coast.
When we arrived, there were no assigned camping sites. One just drove on the sandy path and pulled into an area that looked promising to set up camp. The unfortunate ones drove until they got stuck and their choice of camping area was made for them. Next came the task of unloading the car and setting up camp. For a kid, this process took at least 8 hours, and getting yelled at atleast twice. Finally, we would climb the dunes and the closer we got, the sound turned from a gentle ripple to a grande splash. The waves were calling us to come play. Across the soft sand then to the tides' hard packed sand we ran to revel in the salty water of the Altantic Ocean. Vacation had begun!
Sometime during our vacation, we would have our annual feast- blue crabs, their bodies the size of a dinner plate, homegrown tomatoes, corn and peaches. Jon-Jon always cleaned and picked out all of his crabs, then ate the meat at the very end of his meal. Me, I ate the sweet succulent meat as I went along, licking my fingers to get the Old Bay seasoning to mingle with the crab. As night grew near, the latern took us into darkness as we continued to eat until our appetites were satisfied. Mom had the bedcovers turned down, and out cold we were under the starry night.
First thing of a morning, the smell of bacon would waft through the tent: it worked better than any alarm clock. Mom would have pancakes and bacon cooking on the Coleman propane stove. After breakfast came clean-up at the site, then packing up for the day at the beach. Off we went for another adventure. Dad, Jon-Jon and I rode the waves with our bodies, Mom mainly stayed on the beach, watching and protecting her brood. As lunchtime grew near, we needed no clock to tell us the time, the days activities had worn us out. Lunch always consisted of Fig Newtons, Sardines in Mustard and crackers, cold-cuts and cheese. In later years we added Spaghetti-O's out-of-the-can and Oreos. For Dad there was always beer, Schlitz of course.
Weeks were spent on the beach, playing in the sand and surf. Our bodies would first burn, then bronze under the Maryland sun. (Sun block was yet to be invented.) Every evening when the sun went down we wondered at the amazing sky, finding the big dipper, catching falling stars and pondering the great vastness. Our tired bodies slept the peace you find after having had another glorious day.
I grew up owning the ocean for I was part fish my Dad used to tell me. It was a part of me. A lot of people I have met in life have never know the simple pleasure of spending three weeks in a tent, nestled between sand dunes, riding the waves without a surfboard, eating a Fig Newton while trying to keep the sand off it, taking a shower outdoors with your bathing suit on, and maybe even catching a glimpse of the wild ponies or a falling star. I feel priviledged. Thanks Mom and Dad for sharing your gift.
Assateague Island at that time was untouched, unspoiled and very primitive. There were no paved roads, no drinking water, and no indoor showers. There was no camp store to provide ice or forgotten rations. And worst of all, the Island had biting flies that were the size of bumble bees. But it was all worth the inconviences to be on the most breathtaking beach of the East coast.
When we arrived, there were no assigned camping sites. One just drove on the sandy path and pulled into an area that looked promising to set up camp. The unfortunate ones drove until they got stuck and their choice of camping area was made for them. Next came the task of unloading the car and setting up camp. For a kid, this process took at least 8 hours, and getting yelled at atleast twice. Finally, we would climb the dunes and the closer we got, the sound turned from a gentle ripple to a grande splash. The waves were calling us to come play. Across the soft sand then to the tides' hard packed sand we ran to revel in the salty water of the Altantic Ocean. Vacation had begun!
Sometime during our vacation, we would have our annual feast- blue crabs, their bodies the size of a dinner plate, homegrown tomatoes, corn and peaches. Jon-Jon always cleaned and picked out all of his crabs, then ate the meat at the very end of his meal. Me, I ate the sweet succulent meat as I went along, licking my fingers to get the Old Bay seasoning to mingle with the crab. As night grew near, the latern took us into darkness as we continued to eat until our appetites were satisfied. Mom had the bedcovers turned down, and out cold we were under the starry night.
First thing of a morning, the smell of bacon would waft through the tent: it worked better than any alarm clock. Mom would have pancakes and bacon cooking on the Coleman propane stove. After breakfast came clean-up at the site, then packing up for the day at the beach. Off we went for another adventure. Dad, Jon-Jon and I rode the waves with our bodies, Mom mainly stayed on the beach, watching and protecting her brood. As lunchtime grew near, we needed no clock to tell us the time, the days activities had worn us out. Lunch always consisted of Fig Newtons, Sardines in Mustard and crackers, cold-cuts and cheese. In later years we added Spaghetti-O's out-of-the-can and Oreos. For Dad there was always beer, Schlitz of course.
Weeks were spent on the beach, playing in the sand and surf. Our bodies would first burn, then bronze under the Maryland sun. (Sun block was yet to be invented.) Every evening when the sun went down we wondered at the amazing sky, finding the big dipper, catching falling stars and pondering the great vastness. Our tired bodies slept the peace you find after having had another glorious day.
I grew up owning the ocean for I was part fish my Dad used to tell me. It was a part of me. A lot of people I have met in life have never know the simple pleasure of spending three weeks in a tent, nestled between sand dunes, riding the waves without a surfboard, eating a Fig Newton while trying to keep the sand off it, taking a shower outdoors with your bathing suit on, and maybe even catching a glimpse of the wild ponies or a falling star. I feel priviledged. Thanks Mom and Dad for sharing your gift.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Being an ANGEL
I love my job! There are two factors that keep me from moving to Florida. The first is I could not leave my Grandchildren. Granted, today, I only have one. But I am very optimistic and hope for many more in the next five years. Two, I actually love my job. I plan on staying with it and retiring from what I do today.
I work at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences (UAMS) in Little Rock, AR. I work in the ANGELS program - The Antenatal and Neonatal Guidelines, Education and Learning Systems. The department I work in is the Call Center. We take and make calls all day. First let me tell you a little about the benefits of my job and then I will attempt to explain what I actually do.
Probably the best benefit in my opinion is their retirement plan. The University matches up to 10% of my contribution each year. So naturally, I put the whole 10% in to the plan. That is 20% of my salary going into my TIAA-CREF account every year. And it adds up FAST! The next best benefit is we get some 10 or 11 holidays a year - WOW! Unheard of these days. Then there is the vacation and sick time that adds up quickly.
The next benefit is unquantifiable. I work with a wonderful group of nurses. Sure, there is at least one stinker in the bunch , but that is true anywhere you go. I have a special place in my heart for the weekend crew that I work with; they are the tops. We get along so well, we climb over top of each other to help one another out. We are a true team.
The Call Center is split into 2 main organizations - the Physicians Call Center (PCC) and ANGELS Call Center. When I work PCC, I take calls from physicians wanting to transfer a patient or consult with a physician. If it is a transfer, you have to figure out which department to contact, who can admit the patient, and connect the two doctors. We record all this information in a computer program designed to capture this type of info. Yeah, me typing!! Next a survey is filled out and sent to the transfer team that facilitates the actual transfer. Sounds simple, NOT! The surgeon you are needing to connect with is in surgery and won't call you back. GI can't admit so internal medicine is called upon to admit a patient and they feel like they are getting dumped on. And then there are the special programs like the Aortic Pathway, which is a true emergency and needs to be handled efficiently and as quick as can be. Problem is you can't get proficient at it if you haven't even done one! No one's fault, just the way it happens. Sometimes a PCC call will stay active for days with multiple nurses handling something kind of complicated. It can get rather intense at times.
ANGELS is primarily taking calls from pregnant and non-pregnant women who have problems or questions. We triage the women based on a set of standard guidelines built into the computer program we document everything in. An example would be a pregnant woman calls thinking she is in labor, having contractions every 12 minutes apart. It is her first baby and she is full term. We would tell her it is not time to come in yet, and give her instructions on what to look for and when to come in/ call back later. We also do call backs, checking on how women who have been in the hospital are doing once they go home. In ANGELS we also facilitate OB transfers, and physician consults. Quite frankly, we get our far share of strange calls on a daily basis. I won't speak of any to protect the innocent and the ignorant.
Another program we do is called ARSAVES. It is a stroke intervention program where we hook up our neurologist with the outlying smaller hospital that does not have a neurologist on staff. Our neurologist goes through many questions with the patient and does a physical assessment over the Tandberg, a telemedicine connection much like Skype. He looks at the head CT scan and along with his assessment, determines if the patient has had a stroke. If he has, then a powerful drug is given to break up the blood clot in the head. We then facilitate getting the patient to UAMS or another spoke hospital. It's all pretty exciting really.
We also participate in some dozen or so smaller pieces of the pie, like taking call for various OB/GYN offices throughout the state, and taking part in a special project in using the Tandberg in the women's prison for their pregnant inmates. When things are busy, you have to be very good at multitasking. You may be in the middle of a PCC call with a physician paged out, then get an OB transport call placed on your desk, then the ARSAVES phone rings. Keeping your wits about you is a must, constantly prioritizing, and staying in touch with all parties is a must. I love it!! Wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
I work at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences (UAMS) in Little Rock, AR. I work in the ANGELS program - The Antenatal and Neonatal Guidelines, Education and Learning Systems. The department I work in is the Call Center. We take and make calls all day. First let me tell you a little about the benefits of my job and then I will attempt to explain what I actually do.
Probably the best benefit in my opinion is their retirement plan. The University matches up to 10% of my contribution each year. So naturally, I put the whole 10% in to the plan. That is 20% of my salary going into my TIAA-CREF account every year. And it adds up FAST! The next best benefit is we get some 10 or 11 holidays a year - WOW! Unheard of these days. Then there is the vacation and sick time that adds up quickly.
The next benefit is unquantifiable. I work with a wonderful group of nurses. Sure, there is at least one stinker in the bunch , but that is true anywhere you go. I have a special place in my heart for the weekend crew that I work with; they are the tops. We get along so well, we climb over top of each other to help one another out. We are a true team.
The Call Center is split into 2 main organizations - the Physicians Call Center (PCC) and ANGELS Call Center. When I work PCC, I take calls from physicians wanting to transfer a patient or consult with a physician. If it is a transfer, you have to figure out which department to contact, who can admit the patient, and connect the two doctors. We record all this information in a computer program designed to capture this type of info. Yeah, me typing!! Next a survey is filled out and sent to the transfer team that facilitates the actual transfer. Sounds simple, NOT! The surgeon you are needing to connect with is in surgery and won't call you back. GI can't admit so internal medicine is called upon to admit a patient and they feel like they are getting dumped on. And then there are the special programs like the Aortic Pathway, which is a true emergency and needs to be handled efficiently and as quick as can be. Problem is you can't get proficient at it if you haven't even done one! No one's fault, just the way it happens. Sometimes a PCC call will stay active for days with multiple nurses handling something kind of complicated. It can get rather intense at times.
ANGELS is primarily taking calls from pregnant and non-pregnant women who have problems or questions. We triage the women based on a set of standard guidelines built into the computer program we document everything in. An example would be a pregnant woman calls thinking she is in labor, having contractions every 12 minutes apart. It is her first baby and she is full term. We would tell her it is not time to come in yet, and give her instructions on what to look for and when to come in/ call back later. We also do call backs, checking on how women who have been in the hospital are doing once they go home. In ANGELS we also facilitate OB transfers, and physician consults. Quite frankly, we get our far share of strange calls on a daily basis. I won't speak of any to protect the innocent and the ignorant.
Another program we do is called ARSAVES. It is a stroke intervention program where we hook up our neurologist with the outlying smaller hospital that does not have a neurologist on staff. Our neurologist goes through many questions with the patient and does a physical assessment over the Tandberg, a telemedicine connection much like Skype. He looks at the head CT scan and along with his assessment, determines if the patient has had a stroke. If he has, then a powerful drug is given to break up the blood clot in the head. We then facilitate getting the patient to UAMS or another spoke hospital. It's all pretty exciting really.
We also participate in some dozen or so smaller pieces of the pie, like taking call for various OB/GYN offices throughout the state, and taking part in a special project in using the Tandberg in the women's prison for their pregnant inmates. When things are busy, you have to be very good at multitasking. You may be in the middle of a PCC call with a physician paged out, then get an OB transport call placed on your desk, then the ARSAVES phone rings. Keeping your wits about you is a must, constantly prioritizing, and staying in touch with all parties is a must. I love it!! Wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
Recovery and a Short-Lived Retirement
The 2 or 3 months after ECT are very scetchy for me. These are the details as I remember them.
I really couldn't tell you how my depression was doing after the treatments. I don't think there was a huge success that eveyone had hoped for. I was no longer struggling to stay alive, but I do not think I bounced out of total depression. The kids were still a source of problems, Chuck and I were having troubles with our marriage, and we had just lost my income.
With Alex and Linda now living outside the home, Andrew moving in with his father in Mississippi, and Chuck and I could no longer afford the house and all its expenses on his salary alone, we made the move to the farm in Kentucky. Mom and Dad soon joined us at the farm, which made for some rocky goings.
We were there for maybe 2 months. Mom and Dad were going back to their Florida home, and it was decided that I would go with them to recover while Chuck would return to Arkansas. I think we had "broken up" but not officially, not yet anyways. So off to Florida I went, to recover in the bosom of my parents love.
For the first few months, I was still down. I was also on the cocktail of drugs that my idiotic psychiatrist in Little Rock had me on. I even started cutting to help with the pain. I had never done that type of thing before but found it to be a glorious expression of releasing the hurt. When you see the beads of blood come to the surface, it releases some type of endorphines I believe. I don't know that to be fact, but it sure did feel that way. It's kinda like when you have a good cry and feel better afterwards.
Then we found Dr Rankunpali, a godsend. He basically turned the applecart upside down, started from scratch and changed all of my medications. He also started me seeing a wonderful therapist, Debra. A good therapist is hard to find! I prefer a physiologist to a social worker because I get more out of the old fashioned "talk" therapy than I do out of the 6 or 12 week self recovery program.
I eventually started feeling better, stopped cutting, then actually started feeling really good. I became less reclusive and joined in on activities. Before I knew it, Mom and Dad's friends were my friends too. I went to Friday night do-drop-in potlucks, to the swimming pool, to parties, and played games. I had come out of my cocoon and became a social butterfly.
Meanwhile, I had applied for disability, thinking there was no way I could ever work again. And like most people, I was turned down that first time around. That meant a 2+ year wait and a hearing.
Chuck was back in Arkansas, with me telling him I was not going to return. He continued to pay my medical expenses and give me a little spending money every now and again. He had got a good job, one that paid well, had good benefits, the whole package. Why he didn't do that when we were together, I do not know. Things might have gone down differently. He still held out hope that we would get back together. I, on the other hand, did not think we would.
I continued to get stronger, get my tan on, and loving life to the fullest extent. I have never been as happy and carefree as I was that year and half I spent at Spanish Oaks. It was like being on vacation everyday. Someone told me that once you get that Florida sand between your toes, you can never get rid of it. I know exactly what that means. What a wonderful recovery. I don't believe I would be who I am today if it had not been for that precious time I had spent with my parents in Florida.
Eventually, I moved back to Arkansas and Chuck and I resumed our marriage. After a few months I decided it was time- that I could do this. I would go back to work. I chose to do what I knew best, labor and delivery, but at a slower pace. So I went to work at our local county hospital. How quickly I found out the pace was slower but the responsibilities were ginormous compared to that at UAMS. No doctor or anesthesia in house 24/7!?!?!? Give me the fast pace at UAMS any day. I didn't like having to call a doctor every 15 minutes telling him his patient was tanking and him doing essentially nothing about it. I was used to quick and prudent intervention.
Then, one day, I became aware of ANGELS! And that story is for a different day.
I really couldn't tell you how my depression was doing after the treatments. I don't think there was a huge success that eveyone had hoped for. I was no longer struggling to stay alive, but I do not think I bounced out of total depression. The kids were still a source of problems, Chuck and I were having troubles with our marriage, and we had just lost my income.
With Alex and Linda now living outside the home, Andrew moving in with his father in Mississippi, and Chuck and I could no longer afford the house and all its expenses on his salary alone, we made the move to the farm in Kentucky. Mom and Dad soon joined us at the farm, which made for some rocky goings.
We were there for maybe 2 months. Mom and Dad were going back to their Florida home, and it was decided that I would go with them to recover while Chuck would return to Arkansas. I think we had "broken up" but not officially, not yet anyways. So off to Florida I went, to recover in the bosom of my parents love.
For the first few months, I was still down. I was also on the cocktail of drugs that my idiotic psychiatrist in Little Rock had me on. I even started cutting to help with the pain. I had never done that type of thing before but found it to be a glorious expression of releasing the hurt. When you see the beads of blood come to the surface, it releases some type of endorphines I believe. I don't know that to be fact, but it sure did feel that way. It's kinda like when you have a good cry and feel better afterwards.
Then we found Dr Rankunpali, a godsend. He basically turned the applecart upside down, started from scratch and changed all of my medications. He also started me seeing a wonderful therapist, Debra. A good therapist is hard to find! I prefer a physiologist to a social worker because I get more out of the old fashioned "talk" therapy than I do out of the 6 or 12 week self recovery program.
I eventually started feeling better, stopped cutting, then actually started feeling really good. I became less reclusive and joined in on activities. Before I knew it, Mom and Dad's friends were my friends too. I went to Friday night do-drop-in potlucks, to the swimming pool, to parties, and played games. I had come out of my cocoon and became a social butterfly.
Meanwhile, I had applied for disability, thinking there was no way I could ever work again. And like most people, I was turned down that first time around. That meant a 2+ year wait and a hearing.
Chuck was back in Arkansas, with me telling him I was not going to return. He continued to pay my medical expenses and give me a little spending money every now and again. He had got a good job, one that paid well, had good benefits, the whole package. Why he didn't do that when we were together, I do not know. Things might have gone down differently. He still held out hope that we would get back together. I, on the other hand, did not think we would.
I continued to get stronger, get my tan on, and loving life to the fullest extent. I have never been as happy and carefree as I was that year and half I spent at Spanish Oaks. It was like being on vacation everyday. Someone told me that once you get that Florida sand between your toes, you can never get rid of it. I know exactly what that means. What a wonderful recovery. I don't believe I would be who I am today if it had not been for that precious time I had spent with my parents in Florida.
Eventually, I moved back to Arkansas and Chuck and I resumed our marriage. After a few months I decided it was time- that I could do this. I would go back to work. I chose to do what I knew best, labor and delivery, but at a slower pace. So I went to work at our local county hospital. How quickly I found out the pace was slower but the responsibilities were ginormous compared to that at UAMS. No doctor or anesthesia in house 24/7!?!?!? Give me the fast pace at UAMS any day. I didn't like having to call a doctor every 15 minutes telling him his patient was tanking and him doing essentially nothing about it. I was used to quick and prudent intervention.
Then, one day, I became aware of ANGELS! And that story is for a different day.
Happenings
Thought I would just catch up on this past weeks happenings.
I haven't written for several days as you may have noticed. My head has been in a swirl of muscle relaxers and pain pills. I've also been spending a lot of time on the heating pad. I strained some muscles in my upper back, which in turn, caused a cascade of painful muscles around them; my left neck and arm muscles are as tight as piano strings. The medications are beginning to work as the pain is beginning to subside. It has been years since my back has been the reason I have called off work, but I had to Wednesday. I always feel so guilty when I can't go to work.
I went Tuesday and saw my psychiatrist. We decided to go ahead and add another 75 mg of Effexor, my anti-depressant, to my regime. He seemed to feel with all that has been going and the episode of "rabbit sickness" last week warrants the change. I agree. A preemptive strike plan. I go back in 6 weeks.
I was remiss in letting everyone know that Andrew is back in rehab. He went in last Wednesday. They took him back under a behaviour contract. Basically, he can't screw up again, or he is out for good. Don't have any idea how long he will stay, that will be up to his counselor based on the progress he makes.
Jonas has been sick this week with an ear infection. It's so sad to see a little one sick. Linda took him to Children's and he had a temp of 104.0. His ear bled after the doctor examined him (he has tubes in his ears). You can tell even his eyes hurt, the way they look, and he keeps rubbing them. This week, we have had an infirmary going on up in here. Me with my back and Jonas with his ear. Luckily, he sleeps most of the day so I don't have to do too much. Every now and then, I give him some good Gigi lovin' while we watch Buzz in the recliner.
Hopefully I can get back to my "regular" posts very soon. I miss you guys and sharing my stories. So stay in touch, I will be back in the saddle very soon.
I haven't written for several days as you may have noticed. My head has been in a swirl of muscle relaxers and pain pills. I've also been spending a lot of time on the heating pad. I strained some muscles in my upper back, which in turn, caused a cascade of painful muscles around them; my left neck and arm muscles are as tight as piano strings. The medications are beginning to work as the pain is beginning to subside. It has been years since my back has been the reason I have called off work, but I had to Wednesday. I always feel so guilty when I can't go to work.
I went Tuesday and saw my psychiatrist. We decided to go ahead and add another 75 mg of Effexor, my anti-depressant, to my regime. He seemed to feel with all that has been going and the episode of "rabbit sickness" last week warrants the change. I agree. A preemptive strike plan. I go back in 6 weeks.
I was remiss in letting everyone know that Andrew is back in rehab. He went in last Wednesday. They took him back under a behaviour contract. Basically, he can't screw up again, or he is out for good. Don't have any idea how long he will stay, that will be up to his counselor based on the progress he makes.
Jonas has been sick this week with an ear infection. It's so sad to see a little one sick. Linda took him to Children's and he had a temp of 104.0. His ear bled after the doctor examined him (he has tubes in his ears). You can tell even his eyes hurt, the way they look, and he keeps rubbing them. This week, we have had an infirmary going on up in here. Me with my back and Jonas with his ear. Luckily, he sleeps most of the day so I don't have to do too much. Every now and then, I give him some good Gigi lovin' while we watch Buzz in the recliner.
Hopefully I can get back to my "regular" posts very soon. I miss you guys and sharing my stories. So stay in touch, I will be back in the saddle very soon.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
A New Laminate Floor - A Love Story, Part I
Mom and Dad (John and Linda) live the sweet life. They experience the joys of retirement at Spanish Oaks, a retirement community in Florida. They participate in all one would thing a retirement community would have to offer; Friday night potlucks, holiday parties, bingo, sometimes swimming in the winter in the heated pool, happy hour, private parties on the patio, and most importantly, spending time with all their many friends that just stop by to chat for no reason at all. They also take on special projects.
In December, John chose a play, scouted for the perfect actors, and directed his second play. It was put on to a sell out crowd that eagerly look forward to the next play production. While John was the Director, Linda was the Producer. You see, they always do everything together. She fed the actors as they studied their parts when they came to the house. She copied all 25+ scripts for the actors. She helped in the costume department. She listened for hours as he pondered over many decisions. It may appear to outsiders as if this was John's play, but it was their play.
Over the last several weeks, John and Linda ripped up the carpet in the dining room and started the huge project of putting in laminate flooring. They have always tackle home remodeling projects. In the earlier years, together they built rooms on to the house and even went as far to build a two story garage. The jobs go a little slower these days. Linda has multiple sclerosis and John has a bad back from an injury many, many years ago. But together, the job still gets done. John lays the floor while Linda is there at his side, his charming assistant. She totes the tools, brings the next piece of laminate to the job, and makes the lunch to sustain her husband's taste for delicious food. They take breaks together and get out of the house after a day or two of hard work, going to Sam's for provisions or a consignment store to discover the latest bargain. You see, John and Linda have ALWAYS done everything together.
Over the years, some things have changed. John was a peddler of aluminum by trade. He could get anywhere by practically his sense of smell. Seriously, he knew the streets of any major city east of the Mississippi. Over the past few years, his compass has begun to fail him. Ever so gently, Linda began to assist in directing the traveling, something that was new for both of them. Along came the global positioning system for the car and the world was right again.
Linda can't go shopping all day like she used to- her right foot and leg won't allow it. The MS has curtailed many activities, some she dearly enjoyed and others that were a part of everyday life. Like walking up and down steps, getting out of a bathtub, dancing the night away with John, and helping down on the floor putting in laminate flooring. John takes care of Linda in the sweetest of ways. He goes to car shows by himself without saying a word about missing her presence. He always walks on her right side holding her arm to strengthen her stature, all the while holding her purse in his left hand. He always saves the last slow dance of the evening for Linda, even if it isn't quite the two-step it was before.
Mom and Dad, your love lights the world on fire. It is a gift you share with all those you have known. Your children thank you for the love story you have shared with us for a lifetime.
In December, John chose a play, scouted for the perfect actors, and directed his second play. It was put on to a sell out crowd that eagerly look forward to the next play production. While John was the Director, Linda was the Producer. You see, they always do everything together. She fed the actors as they studied their parts when they came to the house. She copied all 25+ scripts for the actors. She helped in the costume department. She listened for hours as he pondered over many decisions. It may appear to outsiders as if this was John's play, but it was their play.
Over the last several weeks, John and Linda ripped up the carpet in the dining room and started the huge project of putting in laminate flooring. They have always tackle home remodeling projects. In the earlier years, together they built rooms on to the house and even went as far to build a two story garage. The jobs go a little slower these days. Linda has multiple sclerosis and John has a bad back from an injury many, many years ago. But together, the job still gets done. John lays the floor while Linda is there at his side, his charming assistant. She totes the tools, brings the next piece of laminate to the job, and makes the lunch to sustain her husband's taste for delicious food. They take breaks together and get out of the house after a day or two of hard work, going to Sam's for provisions or a consignment store to discover the latest bargain. You see, John and Linda have ALWAYS done everything together.
Over the years, some things have changed. John was a peddler of aluminum by trade. He could get anywhere by practically his sense of smell. Seriously, he knew the streets of any major city east of the Mississippi. Over the past few years, his compass has begun to fail him. Ever so gently, Linda began to assist in directing the traveling, something that was new for both of them. Along came the global positioning system for the car and the world was right again.
Linda can't go shopping all day like she used to- her right foot and leg won't allow it. The MS has curtailed many activities, some she dearly enjoyed and others that were a part of everyday life. Like walking up and down steps, getting out of a bathtub, dancing the night away with John, and helping down on the floor putting in laminate flooring. John takes care of Linda in the sweetest of ways. He goes to car shows by himself without saying a word about missing her presence. He always walks on her right side holding her arm to strengthen her stature, all the while holding her purse in his left hand. He always saves the last slow dance of the evening for Linda, even if it isn't quite the two-step it was before.
Mom and Dad, your love lights the world on fire. It is a gift you share with all those you have known. Your children thank you for the love story you have shared with us for a lifetime.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Recliners
Recliners are not made for the old anymore. You see, I love my recliner! After work, I hit the door, pour a tall glass of sweet tea, then rest my weary bones in my recliner. I watch a bit of TV, chat with Chuck about the days events....... and deflate. The recliner is perfect for unwinding. You can rock gently, or stretch out and put your feet up to take the ache out.
During the week, my recliner is the perfect place for waking up. With my between roast Community coffee, I find an old movie on TV and begin the gentle journey into daybreak. You see, I often get up at 4 AM on my off days because I like the early morning time alone. Time before the alarm clocks go off and Jonas is wild with wonderment. Soon, I find myself with my netbook in my lap, thinking and tapping away at my next entry in my blog.
During the day, my recliner is THE best place to accidentally take a little nappypoo! See, I curl up with my favorite throw, and next thing I know, it is an hour later! Oh, how sweet it is.
The other night, Chuck and I were kicked back, he in one recliner, I in the other. We both had our laptops going and we were playing The Price is Right online with each other. It was fun. A lot of fun. My wise ass kid comes through the house and makes some crack about us being old. If he only knew the simple pleasures of being the owner of a recliner.
During the week, my recliner is the perfect place for waking up. With my between roast Community coffee, I find an old movie on TV and begin the gentle journey into daybreak. You see, I often get up at 4 AM on my off days because I like the early morning time alone. Time before the alarm clocks go off and Jonas is wild with wonderment. Soon, I find myself with my netbook in my lap, thinking and tapping away at my next entry in my blog.
During the day, my recliner is THE best place to accidentally take a little nappypoo! See, I curl up with my favorite throw, and next thing I know, it is an hour later! Oh, how sweet it is.
The other night, Chuck and I were kicked back, he in one recliner, I in the other. We both had our laptops going and we were playing The Price is Right online with each other. It was fun. A lot of fun. My wise ass kid comes through the house and makes some crack about us being old. If he only knew the simple pleasures of being the owner of a recliner.
Let me tell you about Sweet Pea
Sweet Pea was living with her boyfriend when she discovered she was to become a mother. Her good-for-nothing boyfriend did not take the news well. As a matter of fact, he wanted the entire situation to just go away, permanently. Linda persevered and eventually left him and moved in with a dear friend of hers. She was not quite ready to move home; she was adamant about continuing to make it on her own. As time drew near to her due date, she did finally seek out the comforts of home, and most willingly moved in with her Momma.
On the 6th of January, 2009, a baby boy was born, Jonas Oliver Riser. Linda came through labor like it was a walk in the park. As a mother and a labor and delivery nurse, I was never so proud of her as she gave birth.
Jonas was five weeks premature and weighed only 4 pounds, 12 ounces. His pediatrician let him come home because he was eating so well. Due to the efforts of Linda feeding him around the clock every three hours, his weight flourished. She had come from a place of total self absorption to one of motherhood, caring for another being.
Less than six months later, Linda enrolled in RN school; another milestone. She juggled books and classes and friends and raising her baby. Sometimes her priorities became a little mixed up, but she was growing into her position in life.
As Linda continued to flourish, she met a man she would come to love and be loved in return. He became such a positive influence in her life, providing her with stability and soundness she had never knew before. See, my sweet pea is like a little butterfly, wisping on the wind, easily distracted by the colors of so many flowers. So easily distracted, she becomes quickly rattled. With a few calming words and the right intervention, all is right with world again.
Sweet Pea is now quite the loving and caring mother. She has grown into her own. The joy she feels for her child is infectuous. All the while she successfully juggles school, working, motherhood, and a very special relationship. From a teenager to a maturing woman Sweet Pea is the sweetest flower of them all!!!
Friday, January 21, 2011
TGIF
TGIF and my work week begins! This week that is a good thing! Sometimes, when things have been rough, one of the best things I can do is throw myself into work. And a rough week it has been. You see, I have been a bit discombobulated. With all that Andrew has pulled and being ill prepared for how it would affect me, I have gotten down this past week. I found it hard to stay awake and do my daily errands. I get what I call "sleeping sickness". When I was about 5 years old, I believed that if I were to get bit by a rabbit, I would get the sleeping sickness. If you were unlucky enough to get this disease, you would sleep for at least 20 years. Nothing can wake you up. Kind of like Rip Van Winkle. THAT is what I have had this week. Rabbit sickness. And not too far behind rabbit sickness comes depression. TGIF.
So far, I have signed up for two extra days to work next week and made two people very happy. And earlier, my boss sent me an e-mail that said "come see me when you have a second". These e-mails scare the shit out of me. I can't fiqure out what I have done, but just sure I have screwed up somewhere. Turns out it was no such thing, just a quick chat of things to come.
I actually look forward to work this week, I know it will help me shake the rabbit sickness. When you get up every morning, shower, and get ready to face the day, it sure beats getting up and staying in your pj's all day, watching TV, and trying to write on the computer.
I am just now able to begin looking back and see how I let dealing with Andrew throw me for a loop with all the stupidity he pulled. I just wasn't prepared. He was doing so well. I had let myself feel a false sense of security. I did not fathom there would be yet another stumble, another fall. Somehow I thought he was on the path to freedom from drugs and alcohol. Little did I remember he will have this ongoing battle the rest of his life. And he is far from strong enough to have it under some faxcimile of control. No matter how well things may go in his future, I shall always have in my mind that Andrew can stumble at anytime. I won't make that mistake twice. I abhor what drugs and alcohol do to relationships. It is just not the same, never will be. It is sad.
So far, I have signed up for two extra days to work next week and made two people very happy. And earlier, my boss sent me an e-mail that said "come see me when you have a second". These e-mails scare the shit out of me. I can't fiqure out what I have done, but just sure I have screwed up somewhere. Turns out it was no such thing, just a quick chat of things to come.
I actually look forward to work this week, I know it will help me shake the rabbit sickness. When you get up every morning, shower, and get ready to face the day, it sure beats getting up and staying in your pj's all day, watching TV, and trying to write on the computer.
I am just now able to begin looking back and see how I let dealing with Andrew throw me for a loop with all the stupidity he pulled. I just wasn't prepared. He was doing so well. I had let myself feel a false sense of security. I did not fathom there would be yet another stumble, another fall. Somehow I thought he was on the path to freedom from drugs and alcohol. Little did I remember he will have this ongoing battle the rest of his life. And he is far from strong enough to have it under some faxcimile of control. No matter how well things may go in his future, I shall always have in my mind that Andrew can stumble at anytime. I won't make that mistake twice. I abhor what drugs and alcohol do to relationships. It is just not the same, never will be. It is sad.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I might have lost Tuesday forever, but all is not Lost
Monday, January 17, 2011
Three Teenagers make for the Perfect Storm
The teenage years did not come easy in our house.
During their prime destructive years, the kids were 15, 17 and 19. Now to set the stage for the brewing of the perfect storm.
Alex had graduated high school, but was very unhappy with the move from Kentucky to Arkansas, so he promptly moved back to Beaver Dam. He returned to work at Voyages, a computer store he had worked at all through high school. My first born, unhappy with the choices his Mom had made, was making his first bold adult decision and striking out on his own. Not to go to college, but going back to the environment I was trying to get the kids out of. Unknown to me (luckily) he became heavily involved with drugs during his 6 month stint in Kentucky. I have no idea what prompted the move, but he came back home to clean out and to choose an alternative lifestyle- one without the use of meth. By the grace of God, he was home!
Andrew was not without struggles. He felt as though he always had to be in a relationship. Taking a page from his mother's playbook, most of those relationships were destructive. This cause him great internal conflict. His external conflict came from school! He hated it. Andrew has ADHD. School had become difficult for him somewhere about the fifth grade. By his senior year it was unsure he would graduate. Then the great calamity happened. He had a rather unusual emergency surgery and was prescribed pain meds for afterwards. Being an enterprising young man, he decided to take the schedule 3 narcotics to school and sell them for 5 bucks a pop. Ingenious! Until he sold a pill to an undercover agent. Within two hours he was in jail. Three days, many, many tears and a lawyer later he was out on probation for a year, and suspended from school for the rest of his senior year. He filled the next year with peyote, mushrooms, Robitussin, benzodiazipine, anti-psychotics; anything that proved to be a psychotropic. Next ensued the never-ending confrontations between Chuck and Andrew, with me placed smack dab in the middle. Andrew's behavior had become so destructive that he ignored every house rule. It was nothing to find him in bed with a female, naked, smoking pot, oblivious to their surroundings. One night he was locked out of the house because he ignored curfew, so he threw a log through his window to get in the house.
Next but not least is my Sweet Pea, Linda. She was my straight "A" student; involved in French club, photography club, on the newspaper staff, in this and that club, you name it, she did it! The only things she didn't do was sports and cheering. Linda was totally self propelled, she had a drive from within to excel at everything she did. Then, it seemed as if one day I woke up and Linda had dropped out of her clubs, was skipping classes, and smoking pot. For the first three months of this behavior I was in total denial. I couldn't believe what was going on, or that my precious little baby girl would become so wreckless overnight. By the time I started to come around and laying down new rules (she previously needed no rules, she governed herself), Linda promptly moved out of my house and in with her boyfriend. I was devastated. Linda eventually smoked so much pot that she quit going to school all together, dropping out her junior year. She quit coming around, with our friendship dissolved into a puddle of my tears.
It was more than I could deal with. A nervous breakdown does not happen in a day, a week or even a month. It takes years of trying to restore balance in chaos. And I eventually lost the battle.
During their prime destructive years, the kids were 15, 17 and 19. Now to set the stage for the brewing of the perfect storm.
Alex had graduated high school, but was very unhappy with the move from Kentucky to Arkansas, so he promptly moved back to Beaver Dam. He returned to work at Voyages, a computer store he had worked at all through high school. My first born, unhappy with the choices his Mom had made, was making his first bold adult decision and striking out on his own. Not to go to college, but going back to the environment I was trying to get the kids out of. Unknown to me (luckily) he became heavily involved with drugs during his 6 month stint in Kentucky. I have no idea what prompted the move, but he came back home to clean out and to choose an alternative lifestyle- one without the use of meth. By the grace of God, he was home!
Andrew was not without struggles. He felt as though he always had to be in a relationship. Taking a page from his mother's playbook, most of those relationships were destructive. This cause him great internal conflict. His external conflict came from school! He hated it. Andrew has ADHD. School had become difficult for him somewhere about the fifth grade. By his senior year it was unsure he would graduate. Then the great calamity happened. He had a rather unusual emergency surgery and was prescribed pain meds for afterwards. Being an enterprising young man, he decided to take the schedule 3 narcotics to school and sell them for 5 bucks a pop. Ingenious! Until he sold a pill to an undercover agent. Within two hours he was in jail. Three days, many, many tears and a lawyer later he was out on probation for a year, and suspended from school for the rest of his senior year. He filled the next year with peyote, mushrooms, Robitussin, benzodiazipine, anti-psychotics; anything that proved to be a psychotropic. Next ensued the never-ending confrontations between Chuck and Andrew, with me placed smack dab in the middle. Andrew's behavior had become so destructive that he ignored every house rule. It was nothing to find him in bed with a female, naked, smoking pot, oblivious to their surroundings. One night he was locked out of the house because he ignored curfew, so he threw a log through his window to get in the house.
Next but not least is my Sweet Pea, Linda. She was my straight "A" student; involved in French club, photography club, on the newspaper staff, in this and that club, you name it, she did it! The only things she didn't do was sports and cheering. Linda was totally self propelled, she had a drive from within to excel at everything she did. Then, it seemed as if one day I woke up and Linda had dropped out of her clubs, was skipping classes, and smoking pot. For the first three months of this behavior I was in total denial. I couldn't believe what was going on, or that my precious little baby girl would become so wreckless overnight. By the time I started to come around and laying down new rules (she previously needed no rules, she governed herself), Linda promptly moved out of my house and in with her boyfriend. I was devastated. Linda eventually smoked so much pot that she quit going to school all together, dropping out her junior year. She quit coming around, with our friendship dissolved into a puddle of my tears.
It was more than I could deal with. A nervous breakdown does not happen in a day, a week or even a month. It takes years of trying to restore balance in chaos. And I eventually lost the battle.
Andrew Returns, and I'm not Happy
Andrew went into rehab a mere 4 days ago, last Friday. Rather,the screws were turned and he was pressured into going,
I am sure his reasons for not wanting to go were many. I know of two. First and foremost was that he would once again be away from his girlfriend Tracey. In rehab, you can only have visitors on Saturday for 2 hours- and she works Saturdays. Phone calls are made only 2-3 times a week and are on a speakerphone with your counselor. You see, their overwhelming burning loving and desire for each other cannot be expected to endure such a separation.
Second, Andrew is under the impression that "the crime does not fit the punishment". The way he tells it, he absent-mindly had one beer with lunch and was caught. That one beer got him kicked out of the chem-free house and sent back to rehab. He feels as if he is entitled- above the rules, the rules were made for the people who are meaning to screw up.
Last night, as I was getting ready to go to bed, I get a phone call from Andrew, and of all things, on his cellphone. In rehab you are not allowed to have cellphones. He has been kicked out. He, being above the rules, snuck in his cellphone. Why you ask??? Do you really have to ask? So late at night he can talk with his girlfriend and tell her goodnight was his reasoning. See, the rules are for the guys who really screwed up and belong there, not him. He was just putting in time to get back to the chem-free house. Once again he feels entitled.
He said that Rocky. the admissions counselor will talk with him on Tuesday. Maybe he will be allowed back in the program after 30 days? And another $400.00?
I won't put up with him putting in time here for 30 days. He will have exactly what he wanted all along- time with his girlfriend. I can't watch or condone this destructive relationship.
Andrew, where are you? What happened to the man who came out of RCA and went to Williamsburg? The man who had a good head on his shoulders and was making something of himself. The Andrew I know is possible.
I'm not happy.
I am sure his reasons for not wanting to go were many. I know of two. First and foremost was that he would once again be away from his girlfriend Tracey. In rehab, you can only have visitors on Saturday for 2 hours- and she works Saturdays. Phone calls are made only 2-3 times a week and are on a speakerphone with your counselor. You see, their overwhelming burning loving and desire for each other cannot be expected to endure such a separation.
Second, Andrew is under the impression that "the crime does not fit the punishment". The way he tells it, he absent-mindly had one beer with lunch and was caught. That one beer got him kicked out of the chem-free house and sent back to rehab. He feels as if he is entitled- above the rules, the rules were made for the people who are meaning to screw up.
Last night, as I was getting ready to go to bed, I get a phone call from Andrew, and of all things, on his cellphone. In rehab you are not allowed to have cellphones. He has been kicked out. He, being above the rules, snuck in his cellphone. Why you ask??? Do you really have to ask? So late at night he can talk with his girlfriend and tell her goodnight was his reasoning. See, the rules are for the guys who really screwed up and belong there, not him. He was just putting in time to get back to the chem-free house. Once again he feels entitled.
He said that Rocky. the admissions counselor will talk with him on Tuesday. Maybe he will be allowed back in the program after 30 days? And another $400.00?
I won't put up with him putting in time here for 30 days. He will have exactly what he wanted all along- time with his girlfriend. I can't watch or condone this destructive relationship.
Andrew, where are you? What happened to the man who came out of RCA and went to Williamsburg? The man who had a good head on his shoulders and was making something of himself. The Andrew I know is possible.
I'm not happy.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
ECT - What did I Forget?? A LOT!!!!
What exactly constitutes a nervous breakdown? For me, it was when I became so deeply depressed that ECT, Electroconvulsive therapy, seemed the only option left. It is hard to remember just how long or how severe I was depressed. When a person is that depressed, your memory is not intact. I know I had been sliding down and battling with the miseries for months. You just can't look back and "see" clearly where you were, what your life consisted of, the details of day to day are not only gone but so are the BIG events too. For example, I can't remember going to my son's high school graduation. My memory of the months before and after the ECT is very sketchy. And a weird part of not remembering is that you don't know what you do not remember. Does that make sense? An example - When I came back to work at UAMS there was a nurse who "friended" me on Facebook. I did not have the foggiest idea who she was, only that she worked in labor and delivery. Turns out she began working there shortly before I left. I have no recollection of her. We worked together for two months.
I had six ECT treatments over a two week period. I remember broken fragments of those days- getting to Bridgeway early in the morning when it was still dark outside. Sitting outside the nurses station with half a dozen or so other patients, like cows going to slaughter. Getting our IVs started, then just waiting. Next thing I remember was being wheeled into the little room and the mad hatter there to do his evil deed.
The next thing I remember is sitting in a plastic recliner, IV out, and my head was in a vice grip, on fire and pounding unrelentlessly. Eventually, after a specified time had elapsed, either Chuck or his parents would take me home. I would sleep the rest of the day because of the excruciating headache. The whole process took at least four hours and they had to wait in this small glass room, with nothing to do but wait. And wait they did. I can't express how thankful I am to Clara and Charles for taking care of me.
I was working weekends at that time in my life. My last ECT was on a Thursday (I think). Out of some absurd sense of duty and also an overwhelming need to get back to work so I could keep our family afloat, I wanted to get back to work that first weekend. Immediately after ECT, I couldn't tell you what I had for breakfast by 9 o'clock. But damnit, I didn't know any better, because I didn't know I couldn't remember anything. I WAS GOING TO WORK! Chuck finally relented and said if my psychiatrist would give me a release to work statement, then I could go back. Of course, no doctor would do such an idiotic thing. Wrong, mine did. So the fight was on. Right or wrong, I have won just about every fight we have had.
I can remember some bits and pieces of that horrible Saturday. A doctor would give me an order and I wouldn't remember to do it. The other nurses must of figured out something was wrong with me pretty quick. The ADON was called in. I talked to her like nothing was wrong (for all I knew, nothing was wrong, I COULD NOT REMEMBER ANYTHING, even that there really was something REALLY wrong with me!) Somehow I managed to make it through the day. When the shift was over, and it was time to go home, I had a slight problem. I couldn't remember where I parked my car. And it was parked on a five level parking deck. A very dear nurse, Kristine, took my hand, found my car for me and had me follow her home to my door (because I forgot how to get home). That was my last day to work for a year and a half.
I had six ECT treatments over a two week period. I remember broken fragments of those days- getting to Bridgeway early in the morning when it was still dark outside. Sitting outside the nurses station with half a dozen or so other patients, like cows going to slaughter. Getting our IVs started, then just waiting. Next thing I remember was being wheeled into the little room and the mad hatter there to do his evil deed.
The next thing I remember is sitting in a plastic recliner, IV out, and my head was in a vice grip, on fire and pounding unrelentlessly. Eventually, after a specified time had elapsed, either Chuck or his parents would take me home. I would sleep the rest of the day because of the excruciating headache. The whole process took at least four hours and they had to wait in this small glass room, with nothing to do but wait. And wait they did. I can't express how thankful I am to Clara and Charles for taking care of me.
I was working weekends at that time in my life. My last ECT was on a Thursday (I think). Out of some absurd sense of duty and also an overwhelming need to get back to work so I could keep our family afloat, I wanted to get back to work that first weekend. Immediately after ECT, I couldn't tell you what I had for breakfast by 9 o'clock. But damnit, I didn't know any better, because I didn't know I couldn't remember anything. I WAS GOING TO WORK! Chuck finally relented and said if my psychiatrist would give me a release to work statement, then I could go back. Of course, no doctor would do such an idiotic thing. Wrong, mine did. So the fight was on. Right or wrong, I have won just about every fight we have had.
I can remember some bits and pieces of that horrible Saturday. A doctor would give me an order and I wouldn't remember to do it. The other nurses must of figured out something was wrong with me pretty quick. The ADON was called in. I talked to her like nothing was wrong (for all I knew, nothing was wrong, I COULD NOT REMEMBER ANYTHING, even that there really was something REALLY wrong with me!) Somehow I managed to make it through the day. When the shift was over, and it was time to go home, I had a slight problem. I couldn't remember where I parked my car. And it was parked on a five level parking deck. A very dear nurse, Kristine, took my hand, found my car for me and had me follow her home to my door (because I forgot how to get home). That was my last day to work for a year and a half.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Being Bipolar in a Working World
Most, if not all my co workers know I am Bipolar. If you tell one woman you work with "in confidence", practically every woman you work with will know within 24 hours. I talked with my work buddies about "my situation" and in not so short a time I started hearing little rumors here and there. Malicious ones too. "Do you know she takes a handful of meds?" "You know she had a nervous breakdown?" How does something so innocent get twisted into something so hurtful? Women can be such bitches. It's a hard decision whether to speak of your disease with your co-workers or not. I kinda wish that I never had. Most understand, but I think a few hold it against me.
But if you never speak up, you are faced with "staying in the closet" much like being Gay was 15 years ago. It still isn't socially acceptable to have a mental illness and work in a high functioning job. Hopefully someday soon it will be, IF we begin to talk about ourselves. We can be plant supervisors, nurses, CEOs, lawyers, mechanics ...... whatever we damn well please.
Now I did purposefully share with my boss that I am Bipolar. My boss and I used to work together on labor and delivery. The very first day I came in for my interview, she asks about a lapse of time in my work history. Well I had already made the decision to be upfront and tell her that I had a breakdown, and that I had spent a year and a half recooperating. I also told her that I was perfectly well and fit for work now. We also discussed that if I got in a "bad way" I would come and talk with her and let her know that I need to be off work. In the two years I have been here, there have been two days that I took off due to stressors at home that had just become too overwhelming. And she very much understood. It wasn't convenient, but she knew it was just as important as if I had a fever of 102.5. I am so grateful that I have a boss that is understanding and compassionate. Thanks Donna!
But if you never speak up, you are faced with "staying in the closet" much like being Gay was 15 years ago. It still isn't socially acceptable to have a mental illness and work in a high functioning job. Hopefully someday soon it will be, IF we begin to talk about ourselves. We can be plant supervisors, nurses, CEOs, lawyers, mechanics ...... whatever we damn well please.
Now I did purposefully share with my boss that I am Bipolar. My boss and I used to work together on labor and delivery. The very first day I came in for my interview, she asks about a lapse of time in my work history. Well I had already made the decision to be upfront and tell her that I had a breakdown, and that I had spent a year and a half recooperating. I also told her that I was perfectly well and fit for work now. We also discussed that if I got in a "bad way" I would come and talk with her and let her know that I need to be off work. In the two years I have been here, there have been two days that I took off due to stressors at home that had just become too overwhelming. And she very much understood. It wasn't convenient, but she knew it was just as important as if I had a fever of 102.5. I am so grateful that I have a boss that is understanding and compassionate. Thanks Donna!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Medication Cocktails
Living with Bipolar Disorder today is no different than say living with diabetes. First, it is very important to me to take my medication. It's not as if I become depressed in one day if I miss a dose, but like a diabetic that misses a dose of insulin, I'm playing catch up. Without a days meds, I can just "feel" it. If I do notice anything, it is usually anxiety and an unfounded kinda paranoia. I'm afraid I have left something undone, left the flat iron plugged in, left the oven turned on, or forgot to lock the door before going to bed: those types of things that you just can't shake. So, I DON'T MISS TAKING MY MEDS. Fortunately, I have never wrestled with not wanting to take medication as many Bipolars have- my meds are a huge part of my sanity. :)
It has taken many years and many psychiatrists to get to the right formula. The doctors had labeled me as drug resistant due to it seemed as nothing worked for more than 3-4 months. For years, down and depressed I would go. Changing the meds would come next, sometimes not for the better. During the worst of times, I slurred my speech, or was so drowsy I seemed drunk, or even had double vision so bad I had to patch one eye so I could function.
Thank you Dr Babu Rankunpali!!!! He found the cocktail that I have been on for 3 years now. Yes, I take a handful, but they work. Lamictal, Klonopin, Effexor, Topamax, and Abilify. My current doctor has stuck to Babu's theory. Make med changes VERY sparingly and slowly. Thank you too Dr Davis.
I can't say that being on meds is without its pitfalls. I literally can't read a book anymore. It puts me to sleep. And if I haven't had enough sleep the night before, I am so sleepy the next day, I can't stand it! Whenever I do a job that requires me to just sit and watch, I need toothpicks to keep my eyes open! Do you see a theme here......... the meds make me sleepy if I am not actively involved in doing something. The cure- sleep atleast 7 hours a night and stay busy!
It has taken many years and many psychiatrists to get to the right formula. The doctors had labeled me as drug resistant due to it seemed as nothing worked for more than 3-4 months. For years, down and depressed I would go. Changing the meds would come next, sometimes not for the better. During the worst of times, I slurred my speech, or was so drowsy I seemed drunk, or even had double vision so bad I had to patch one eye so I could function.
Thank you Dr Babu Rankunpali!!!! He found the cocktail that I have been on for 3 years now. Yes, I take a handful, but they work. Lamictal, Klonopin, Effexor, Topamax, and Abilify. My current doctor has stuck to Babu's theory. Make med changes VERY sparingly and slowly. Thank you too Dr Davis.
I can't say that being on meds is without its pitfalls. I literally can't read a book anymore. It puts me to sleep. And if I haven't had enough sleep the night before, I am so sleepy the next day, I can't stand it! Whenever I do a job that requires me to just sit and watch, I need toothpicks to keep my eyes open! Do you see a theme here......... the meds make me sleepy if I am not actively involved in doing something. The cure- sleep atleast 7 hours a night and stay busy!
Andrew, my Dear Son Andrew
Andrew is an addict. Of the worst kind. He was once labeled as a "garbage can junky" - it doesn't matter what the drug is, he will do it. He will use whatever is available. But benzos are his favorites. Alcohol and Robitussin run a close second. Right now, alcohol has been his downfall. A mere week ago, Andrew was living in a Chemical-free house; the first time he has lived on his own. He loved it and was excelling at it. He was working at Cantina Laredo, a prominent restaurant and making great money. Then he was caught with alcohol on his breath, failed a breathalyzer and was promptly kicked out. The program he is in is set-up so that he would go back to rehab for X number of days and then would be able to come back to the chem-free house. Instead, Andrew felt he was wrongly done and came home. He felt it was unfair to have only had "one" beer and lose everything he had worked so hard for.
He came home with grand schemes to get his license back, continue his job, and go to outpatient treatment for a few weeks until he satisfied the requirements of the chem-free house and could go back. There were some major flaws in his plan, one major flaw being that transportation to and from work and outpatient treatment is simply unavailable. Another is that he is not able to live at home anymore. This has been discussed time and time again, but is ignored at Andrews whim.
All week I have tried and tried to get Andrew to face the reality that he is not an elitist, that he is not above the rules, and that he has even pushed aside the principles he has worked and strived to live by. I have tried to push him into going back to rehab. It is much like pushing a rope uphill. Eerytime I gain an inch, in steps his girlfriend and all is lost.
Unfortunately, his girlfriend wants a party companion instead of supporting Andrew in any efforts to clean up and stay straight and sober. I could say so much more about this destructive relationship, instead I will sum it up by the accounts of a movie "The Days of Wine and Roses".
It has been a very difficult week, I have been down, but not out. At first I was confused and did not know what to do. All I knew was that I could not go through a repeat of the past. He has to leave, one way or the other. Rehab, his girlfriends', a homeless shelter, whatever he chooses....just not here. I have yet to set a date. That is extremely hard to do, because one has to follow through. Shall it be Friday at five??
I love my son dearly, we have a very special bond. It is hard to describe. He is my emotional child. Our hearts are linked by some udescribable force. Please Andy, find your light again so that you can find the path all the while being in the darkness. Don't toss aside your principles you have come to embrace that have given you comfort in the storm. Please Andy, don't forsake God's grace and guidance.
He came home with grand schemes to get his license back, continue his job, and go to outpatient treatment for a few weeks until he satisfied the requirements of the chem-free house and could go back. There were some major flaws in his plan, one major flaw being that transportation to and from work and outpatient treatment is simply unavailable. Another is that he is not able to live at home anymore. This has been discussed time and time again, but is ignored at Andrews whim.
All week I have tried and tried to get Andrew to face the reality that he is not an elitist, that he is not above the rules, and that he has even pushed aside the principles he has worked and strived to live by. I have tried to push him into going back to rehab. It is much like pushing a rope uphill. Eerytime I gain an inch, in steps his girlfriend and all is lost.
Unfortunately, his girlfriend wants a party companion instead of supporting Andrew in any efforts to clean up and stay straight and sober. I could say so much more about this destructive relationship, instead I will sum it up by the accounts of a movie "The Days of Wine and Roses".
It has been a very difficult week, I have been down, but not out. At first I was confused and did not know what to do. All I knew was that I could not go through a repeat of the past. He has to leave, one way or the other. Rehab, his girlfriends', a homeless shelter, whatever he chooses....just not here. I have yet to set a date. That is extremely hard to do, because one has to follow through. Shall it be Friday at five??
I love my son dearly, we have a very special bond. It is hard to describe. He is my emotional child. Our hearts are linked by some udescribable force. Please Andy, find your light again so that you can find the path all the while being in the darkness. Don't toss aside your principles you have come to embrace that have given you comfort in the storm. Please Andy, don't forsake God's grace and guidance.
In the Beginning..............
I have always wanted to share my life's experiences - especially so that that others can understand Bipolar Disorder a little bit better. Today, there is someone in your family, a co-worker, a friend or at the very least, the people that we deal with day in a day out that has some form of Bipolar Disorder.
To give you a little background, I was finally diagnosed as Bipolar Type II approximately 10 years ago after many years years of being incorrectly treated for Major Depressive Disorder. Taking only SSRIs during those initial treatment years only exacerbated the disease. With each medication dosage increase or change I would get better for several months only to inevititably plummit in to deep depression time and time again. Finally, one day, I went to see Dr Wong and he said to me, "I thought you might be Bipolar the last time I saw you but this time I am for sure." He started me on Depakote and it was the first time I felt NORMAL in 20 years!
Alot has happen in the past 10 years as far as the disease and my progression, but that is for another day. Today, I am a "healthy" Biploar woman, dealing with the ups and downs of life just like you do. Maybe even a little better than most. I have developed some pretty healthy management and coping skills. Hopefully this blog has peaked your interest and you might like to follow along as I share my life................................
To give you a little background, I was finally diagnosed as Bipolar Type II approximately 10 years ago after many years years of being incorrectly treated for Major Depressive Disorder. Taking only SSRIs during those initial treatment years only exacerbated the disease. With each medication dosage increase or change I would get better for several months only to inevititably plummit in to deep depression time and time again. Finally, one day, I went to see Dr Wong and he said to me, "I thought you might be Bipolar the last time I saw you but this time I am for sure." He started me on Depakote and it was the first time I felt NORMAL in 20 years!
Alot has happen in the past 10 years as far as the disease and my progression, but that is for another day. Today, I am a "healthy" Biploar woman, dealing with the ups and downs of life just like you do. Maybe even a little better than most. I have developed some pretty healthy management and coping skills. Hopefully this blog has peaked your interest and you might like to follow along as I share my life................................
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