random stupid things i have done # 1

The current inexplicable sore back muscles bit has reminded me of one of the forever embarrassing things from the past. You know, the ones that make you wonder what in hell planet you were on at the time....

So this one dates back to about 1993 or so. Long term relationship had ended, I was living on my own for basically the first time, seeing as I had gone from home to college to fiance. I was in my mid 20's, as hot as I have ever been, fit and tanned and sexy. And wild...I had a whole bunch of teenage stuff to catch up with!

One of the guys I was dating wanted me to go to a party with him, which I wasn't keen on, seeing as it would be a bunch of total strangers. He begged, I resisted. He begged some more, I agreed on condition that the very second I said I wanted to leave, we would go. So off we went to the party, armed with a couple of bottles of wine. For some strange (and to this day, unknown) reason, the hosts had suspended a coconut in the front door, at about 5' 10" from the floor.

Needless to say, it turned into a good party - especially the bit where this one guy was trying to get my date out of the room so he could get my number...'nother story!
And at about 23h00, with a fair bit of wine in me, I was standing in a group in the entrance hall. Someone came down the stairs and jumped at the coconut on the way past. Someone else speculated on whether it would be possible to kick the coconut - I think they were envisaging a running start down the stairs and across the hall, which was about 8' across.

I squinted at the coconut, handed my glass of wine to the man next to me, and propelled myself horizontally upwards from a standing start. OK, I didn't get to kick the damn thing, but I managed to get my entire body about 5'4" in the air, parallel to the floor.....after which I descended rapidly, still horizontal, landed on the tiled floor, thought in passing that my elbow was going to be damn sore the next day, stood up, retrieved my glass of wine, and said that I thought it was probably impossible.

And continued partying for another few hours.....

The following day my parents had come to my house, so that my Dad could help me with building a box for the pool filter motor. We were halfway through this when I turned to reach for a nail.

And froze. In complete agony. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I wondered whether this was a pre-death thing. After a few moments of eternity, whatever it was stopped, and I could breathe. Of course, doing this sort of thing in front of parents is not good - I was immediately bundled into the car and taken to the closest ER. Where about halfway through the exam, the doctor asks whether I have had a car accident or any major trauma in the past few days. The coconut appears before my eyes.....my mother is standing next to me....I have a second-splitting decision on what to say....doctor says 'well?'...I have to confess to the coconut levitation attempt. He laughs hysterically at the mental picture. My mother doesn't. Not at all. Doc tells me that I have pulled the muscles joining my ribs to my spine, and that it's quite a common post-trauma thing. Gives me some meds, laughs a bit more, and shows us out.

It's one thing doing stupid tricks like that, it's a whole different animal trying to explain to your parents why...

friday night

So : what, if anything, has been accomplished in the last three days.

Back is still sore, but p-doc gave me some anti-inflammatories and pain-killers. And he dropped the morning Risperdal, and tonight is last 25mg Leponex. Start a new TCA (trimipramine) on Sunday, and Nardil on Monday. Quilonum, Zopimed, Tertroxin stay the same. He won't prescribe any Zopimed though - says if I want them, I can take them from my collection, which currently includes 73 plus 20 Stilnox.

He asked for collection, I declined. I wish I could walk in and say here, don't need them anymore. Guess that's a thought to work on.

Big dog's biopsies were all good - just normal little bumps. Expensive little bumps, but he's worth it. Zac-zac the collie is a bit upset that Whiz got to go out for the day, and has been doing his closer than a shadow trick since then - gets way too close to sending me flying every time I go anywhere. Needless to say, privacy in the bathroom is nonexistant. Small bathroom - big me, medium Zac and big Whiz.

One of the little finches died - it shouldn't have. So did a pigeon and a bulbul. On the other hand, the mynah that I was worried about is doing well, and the two teeny weeny mousebirds (guess is 2 days and 3 respectively) are doing ok. Touch wood. They eat between 0.1 and 0.2 ml of formula every half hour or so. I put formula plus pellet mix in for the finches, sparrow and thrush, and it appears as if little boy finch and the sparrow swam in it. Will have to give them a bath tomorrow.

Collected a pigeon with a fractured humerus, will need to take him to vet to get it strapped, as he is too feisty for me to do it by myself.

Squirmed out of afternoon shift at the rehab centre, not that I achieved anything constructive instead.

Finished the first two CD's of the best songs to die to. At this rate it's going to be about 10 hours worth - guess at least I won't run out of accompaniment.

Saw t-doc today, talked about friendships ending and other cheerful subjects. Gave her copies of the first 2 volumes. She's a bit dubious about the inclusion of a few Afrikaans songs - some of them are really beautiful though. Just not really translatable without losing the poetry.

I am sore and sad and - although normally I am alone, but not lonely - tonight is as lonely as I can ever be. All my fault. I am such a total f**kwit loser. I can't blame my Duckbuddy for dumping me - if I was her I'd have done that long ago, and for better reasons. Her reasons now were fallacy and overflow from her paranoia, but if she'd done it before when there were good reasons, it wouldn't have ended up being over nothing now.

Some of Springsteen's Nothing Man :

"You can call me joe
Buy me a drink and shake my hand
You want courage
Ill show you courage you can understand
The pearl and silver
Restin on my night table
Its just me lord, pray Im able

Darlin, with this kiss
Say you understand
I am, the nothing man
I am, the nothing man"

sore day

I woke up last night at about midnight feeling a lot of pain. Once I'd worked out that it wasn't in any way kitty related, I tried rolling over. Ouch. Seemed to be somewhere around the middle of my back, but extending around to the front in a couple of places. I was totally out of it on the risperdal/leponex combo, plus I'd taken a sleeping tab. Unfortunately none of those were enough to stop me waking up every 40 mins in agony. I eventually ended up in the bath at 05h00, in the hope that warmth and floating would help. Not much.

Reluctantly, it was off to the doc after I'd taken big dog to the vet to have his lumps removed. Doc was just a totally horrible, upsetting experience, from the time I got there and asked for an appointment. Ended up eventually standing in the main street crying because the whole thing just made me feel like such a useless piece of scum. Not what I really needed. Came home and spent the rest of the day trying to find a position that I could stay in for longer than 30 secs without hurting. Doc had basically told me that with current p-meds he could do just about nothing for the pain.

Forgetting that it was Weds, and p-doc was off for the afternoon, I called at about 16h00 to see if he could suggest anything. When he called back, he said there were all sorts of things that I could have taken. The only painkillers I have in the house were 6 paracetamol tabs from I don't know when - an hour after taking 2, I could sit without crying. So one more tonight, one more in the morning if needed, and then I get to see p-doc. Somehow though, I don't think he is going to feel too kindly about prescribing pain meds when he sees what I did to my arm without them.

Big dog, by the way, seems to show no ill effects from his day in surgery. Will have to wait for the lab reports, but touch wood all three lumps are benign. He's a very special dog, and like to have him here and happy for many years to come. He was doing one of his tricks this morning that contributed towards him failing puppy-training. He doesn't mind the collar and lead at all, in fact he loves them. But the question of who holds the end of the lead is - in his opinion - non-negotiable. He does. I'm allowed to hold the middle of the lead, but it kind of ruins the neat and orderly walk that one needs in training. Actually, on the farm, when he came with me to do the early morning vegetable stuff, I gave up on the conventional way of walking. I used to give him the handle bit, and clip the other end to my belt. And in about 3 years of doing that, he never once dropped the lead and ran off, as he could have done at any time. Sweet, soppy big guy...a very special dog.

Ok, so a quick not all birdy one as well

Now bear in mind I don't bear grudges, and I normally don't notice them being borne against me. And I am 100% so not paranoid or delusional. Ok, the bit where I slept on the couch for two weeks after a burglary while I was in hospital last year might quality as slightly paranoid, but the reason for it was because the lounge is more central, and I could hear noises from all around. Eventually, I had to go back to sleeping in bed 'cos 4 kitties piled on top of me on the couch was not helping any of us to sleep well.

But I could start feeding a bit delusional, and it's all Bloggers fault. Posted comments on two of my favourites. The one was there for a few minutes, but when I went back an hour or two later, it was gone! And the second went off to the moderation dungeons, and never reappeared. Not as if they were bad comments. Boring is probably their worst characteristic, but they weren't that bad, I don't think. And they were short too.

So: Blogger hates me. Bummer.

Been doing all the helpful things, and they aren't doing anything. So after about a 3 week hiatus, left bicep and a few inches around have the 'torture of a thousand cuts'. Left forearm has the 3 single stripes. Sick, sick, sick. But letting the tension out along with the blood somehow helps me not to do more.

time for a birdies only post

Nothing in my life has changed for the better in any way. So instead of telling you about crying on t-doc's shoulder for an hour, or ripping up my entire left arm with the blades, or being even more of a f%%kwit loser.....let's talk about birds.

First good story is that I caught all my aviary pigeons this morning, and took them through to mynah man who had said he was keen to have them. They include a bunch of hand-raised babies (picture a huge fat pigeon climbing up the side of the aviary while begging...pigeons don't climb. They don't hang on fencing. I am failing these children in terms of educating them...) as well as a few who have come in with wing damage, and who might come right with some R&R. I do stick to the rehab centre rules (except for finchy mentor-girl, and all of us broke the rules for her...just somehow no-one wanted to be the one to sentence her to death), and if something is obviously never going to be releasable, or be viable in the wild, they are euthanased. But because it's my home aviary, and I am only dealing with about 800 birds a year ( as opposed to the centre's 8000 plus), I have the time and the space to give them a longer rehab session. So there were about 6 that might fly properly eventually. Mynah man has a well secured garden, and no predators, so they can potter around his home safely. He called me this afternoon, deliriously happy about the beauty of some of them (FYI feral pigeons are basically escaped racing pigeons mixed with the indigenous species, so they come in some truly gorgeous stripes and bars, and iridescent necks and heads in purple and green and blue mixed with grey are quite common), and I can see that these pigeons ain't never gonna leave there! They will be too fat and lazy to even think of it, while they amble from the seed tray to the bath to the newly built perches.

Finchy mentor-girl came in to meet her new friends, and judging by the way she was disciplining them, they must be quite cheeky boys.

I left two birds at the centre, but came home with another 4 as well as a little snake. Snake disappeared in the car on the way home, and I can't find him. Not good, as he needs special food while he is injured. Also not good as I would rather not find him by sitting or standing on him.

And best of all, the barbet story. Quick summary - he came to me on Fri with a broken femur, saw Girlvet on Sat, and she taped it, but said he needed a pin put in on Mon. So yesterday, I took him through to the practice (2 bird vets, the Boss and a newish but great Girlvet), handed him in for surgery, and did other things for a while. Phoned them before I headed home, receptionist asked Boss, and he said it could be picked up, so I collected him. As I got home, I get a call to say he hadn't been pinned yet, and must be brought back. Turns out Boss had seen Girlvet prepping everything, and had assumed the surgery was done, but she just hadn't had time to do it. So this morning I take him back, see Boss briefly, and leave Barbet there. 30 mins later I get a call from receptionist to say that I have brought the wrong bird. I say 'but I only have one BC barbet at the moment...' and go back to vet to sort it out. Girlvet wasn't there, and for some strange reason, Boss had assumed it needed wing surgery, so he had a quick feel, and could find nothing wrong with either wing. Not surprising, seeing as they were both in perfect nick. Once the leg was mentioned, the break was obvious to him immediately, and BCB had his surgery this afternoon.

I think its going to be a long time before he stops being teased about this one. My rehab bosslady wants to buy him a toy ducky and label the basic bits - wing, leg, head etc - but I can't see that being too appreciated!

And now I guess I should head for the medicine chest followed by bed, as there will be early feeds for 8 birds, and extra-early for the new baby...another Barbet. His eyes only came through yesterday, so best guess is he is about 6 days old. Being a barbet, he already knows that he has to bite, but hasn't quite grasped the mechanics of pinch and twist and dig the pointy bit in, so his bites mainly consist of half an inch of finger being swallowed, while he tries to work out why that isn't satisfying.

loser either way

DB thinks I talk too much.

P-doc thinks I talk too little.

T-doc had about two years of writing. She started it, soon after I began seeing her, by asking me to keep a log of what was happening in my life and give it to her. Don't think she realised how long it would carry on for. Last year I made a huge effort to talk instead. Sometimes I manage. Sometimes I just sit and cry.

Almost everyone I know probably wishes I'd just shut up sometimes. 'Cos when I am faking being a normal person, it's a skin I slip on. I can talk crap about almost anything, for hours. It's only the important things that I can't articulate.

P-doc and t-doc are the only people I enforce the no-faking rule for. Used to be with Duckbuddy as well. When someone who knows almost all of you tells you to f-off ... hurts, really hurts.

And today, my other cyber-buddy from the online shrink site I sometimes hang out at, is also pissed off with me. About talking. Says I don't do it about myself, that I seem to slide the conversation across to her all the time. I hadn't noticed that. I was thinking that we weren't ever going to be best buddies, but that we had a reasonably friendly and supportive relationship. Guess I was wrong.

Twice in a week. At least the week is over.

So the most intimate and meaningful relationships in my life are both with people who get paid to put up with me. I do have family and other friends, but mostly, I try to keep it so that they don't know what a loser I am. They get to just presume it, as my sociability level drops to below zero.

Only useful thing i have done all day is feeding birds, and then going to fetch two mynahs. Am expecting the littler one to be dead by morning - don't know who had him, or for how long, but I suspect that he has food in his lungs. And littlest finch-baby died today, also expected as she has not been wanting to eat since Friday. Her brothers are making up for it though. It's awesome watching them. 5 days ago they were babies. Suddenly their legs have become useful, and their wing feathers have sprouted. However, they still believe in 30-min feeds of baby food - and if it doesn't happen fast enough, they start climbing out of the nest. Tomorrow I will bring little finch mentor girl inside, to start teaching them finchy lessons. Hopefully that will include sweet little whistling noises instead of the chainsaw sounds they currently emit.

Have to be up early, not only for feeds, but also to take Black-collared Barbet from Friday back to bird-vet for his leg to be pinned. The break is too high up to be splinted. I was kind of pleased that my assessment wasn't too far off. Now if I could only train myself to stop calling the last joint in the leg the shoulder, I'd be getting somewhere. For some reason, it just comes out wrong. I keep confusing Bosslady, by asking her to check a bird for me because I think it's shoulder is fractured. And I only realise it when she is palpating the wings and saying all OK. And then I say 'but it can't walk' and she gives me one of her sweet but amazed looks, and you can see her wondering if I have learned any anatomy in the last 2 1/2 years...

Promised I'd come to the centre first, and collect anyone else who needs to see the vet. So needs to be an early move - at least I only have 8 birds that have to come with.

Think it is going to be a swimming pool bath again in the morning. Hey, better take advantage of the weather while it is still so warm.....

catching up on technology...

Just a little bit. For some reason, having spent my youth exploring the boundaries of new stuff, I have now become so retro that it's scary. I mean, my mother is WAY more advanced than I am!

To put the 'boundaries' into perspective, I remember going to research lectures on what hardly existed then - the web, as it was, was a small number of sites accessing each other under the auspices of the US Defence. It was called Darpanet or something similar. We laughed at the concept of world wide - I mean no-one was going to let other unknowns into their system!

I remember seeing a demo of 'dial up' - where you put your home phone's receiver into two little ear-muffs, and at about 4.6 Kb/s, you could 'talk' to another computer. Analog, of course, and you could go make coffee in between each line of green text. Oh yeah..that was in the days of one colour only screens. Mostly white text, but the newer, more exciting ones were in green.

I had a home PC. I was the first person in the whole school to have one. The entire memory was 48Kb, before you loaded the operating system (Basic), after that it dropped to 36Kb. Programs had to be written in really tight code, so as not to overrun memory. I had a chess game that was pretty good. I learned to write some machine-code, where you PEEKed at memory, and then POKEd it with hex characters to display things - the most I ever managed was to write a race-car game that you steered by using the ASDF keys. My favorite was Eliza, a good version of the standard analysis game. Eliza started by asking 'how are you', you responded, it then asked you a question based on picking various bits of your reply. Example. Eliza : how are you? Jcat : I am miserable. Eliza : Why are you miserable? Jcat : I am a banana. Eliza : Why does being a banana make you miserable? Jcat : Because a banana is a squishy fruit. Eliza : I see that being a squishy fruit makes you uncomfortable. Would you like to tell me more? etc etc.

Another talk was on the Japanese ideas of cell phones. We laughed at that, it was just inconceivable that it could ever work properly. Maybe in the middle of a big town... but all over the country? Get real! That talk was in about 1991....

So now, I am the only person I know whose cell phone can't even take photos, never mind videos. I don't have a DVD player (although I think that the replacement PC I got after mine was stolen last year can play them...I haven't tried yet). I still have a working VHS VCR. My microwave has just celebrated its 21st birthday, and my fridge was born in 1992. I treasure things that belonged to my parents, and to my grandmother. My printer could be a fax machine/scanner if I really wanted it to be, but I haven't done all the connecty bits to allow it. I finally unwrapped the portable CD player (that my folks bought me about 4 years ago) when I was in hospital for three weeks last October. And that was primarily so that I didn't have to talk to anyone.

Yesterday's great leap was when I got tired of finding free songs to download, because they never had the ones I wanted. Now ordering CDs is cool, I do that quite often. But the big break was....buying an album of downloads! That worked well, so I bought a few more, of songs that I really wanted. And then this little voice said 'your own compilations...' and the thought was awesome! So have spent about the past 8 hours selectively uploading all my CDs. Not all - I'd guess that I've done about one eighth so far. And I bought blank CDs. So by next week I will have a whole bunch of perfect CDs, with nothing but the perfect mix. However I think the 'last CD' is going to be 3 or 4 volumes - that's ok, they will all be perfect to drift away to.

Guess it is only the thought of dying that has motivated the techno-jump. I want to have the background music, while I sit in the bush downing pills with vodka/Coke lite, and breathing CO. I keep telling myself that preparation is ok, in return for holding off on action for another day.

That the one day that I hang on for might be the one where the meds work. The one where I see t-doc and a huge revelation appears and I am filled with insight and hope for tomorrow. The one where I go see a numerologist that t-doc has recommended, who is supposed to have had good results with treating sad fuckwit losers. The one where I meet Mr Perfect - and he is not only available, but is interested in me just as much. The one where I get hijacked or caught in the middle of a shopping mall robbery - and the whole situation is no longer my choice.

And as you can see by the time, the super night combo (including the Zopimed) has not done much towards throwing me into the arms of sleep. But had better go try it out, because the little finches, the robin and the thrush will all be wanting brekkies by 07h30 or earlier....

Every time my phone bleeps, I have this wistful though that it might be DB. I'd like it to be. I'd like it not to be. I am scared that if we did go on, it would be with all the stress fractures unhealed, and that soon it would end even more painfully. Painfully for me. I don't think it hurts her at all, based on some of the things she said - her pain is behind a whole wedge of psychotic delusions, and maybe she will see it sometime long in the future and wonder why on earth she acted the way she has.

sleep and meds and sleep some more

Still need to get the times for the current meds right so that if I wanted to actually have a life I'd be able to. At the moment most of the day is spent either asleep or wanting to be.

The Leponex are supposed to be sedating, but don't do anything to me for about 4 hours at least, so I've been taking them as early in the evening as possible, once I don't have to go out again. Mostly at about 17h00. Taking the Quilonum and Risperdal at about 20h00. Then I wake up, and spend the next couple of hours wanting to sleep but not being able to. Eventually crash out. I know that dreams are waking me up a few times, but by morning they are gone. Morning is gone too, mostly. Can barely keep myself conscious till somewhere around ten, and after that, the rest of the day is sleepy but managable as long as I don't get anywhere near a comfy couch or bed. Taking morning meds just after I get out of bed, normally before 08h00 - I try for about 07h00, for the babies first feeds.

I don't have a shower in the house, and the idea of actually running a cold bath is just too offputting. The leap into the pool though is becoming a good alternative for the days when I know that lying in warmish water is going to be a guaranteed nap. My back garden is private, so the only ones who see me heading for the pool armed with shampoo and soap are the dogs. And the visiting pigeons, who line up on the roof to watch the spectacle! Actually, I guess they are just waiting for me to throw out the seed leftovers from the day before when I change the towels of the indoor cages.

No word from DB since her ending of the friendship on Weds night. I grieve for what we had. I'm not sure that I grieve much for what the relationship had become. In some ways I am relieved to not be permanently on the knife blade that I balanced on for the last couple of months, always having to worry about what I said in case it upset her, always having to worry about replying to dozens of text messages soon enough so that she didn't start the 'are you cross with me? what have I done? please talk to me?' bombardment.

But I miss my friend. The one I knew before her current disappearance into paranoia and delusions. The one who I spent hours talking shit with. The one with a genius IQ and an almost photographic memory, who can virtually recite the MIMS/PDR. The sweet, sexy girl with the infectious smile, and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. The one who cared about what I was doing or feeling, apart from only when it concerned her. The one who was my friend.

In one way, it doesn't surprise me that it happened, but the reasons are completely opposite from what I'd have expected. I am 41, fat, ugly, depressed, suicidal, insular, unfit, single, etc etc. She is 30, tiny and sexy, well-muscled from gym, pretty, married, health-conscious. And way sicker than she used to be. Or maybe it was just that I wasn't part of the delusions before, because she has had them in the past. This has been an unequal relationship, weighted on her side of the scale. Kind of like when the most popular girl in the school wants to be friends... there is always part of you that knows you are not entitled to this, and that sooner or later, you'll get dumped. Guess that has happened. The last few weeks were not really good ones for me, 'cos whatever I said or did wasn't the right thing. But when I envisage her, it's the elfin smile and the things we laughed at together that I see. Even in the worst moments of the past year, we have been able to find something to laugh at together.

I miss my friend.....

risper'd out...

Feel like I have been taking some illegal drug - unfortunately not one of the fun ones! Sticking at 100mg Leponex, 11.25mg Zopimed, 20mg Tertroxin. But the lithium goes from 450mg at night to 450mg at night and 225mg in the morning. And Risperdal comes in at 0.25mg BID. Apart from being absolutely flaked out for most of the day, I also feel like I'm not all here, slow thoughts, just a general feeling that I am about 10 steps behind where I should be. Mild tremor, mild soreness in muscles. Mild hypotension. Major sweating, but I've had that all along with the TCAs. And seeing as it's about 32 degrees (C) at the moment and I am an absolute fatball - can't blame Risperdal for that. Not going to take the sedative tonight - think that's fairly well covered by the Leponex/Quilonum/Risperdal combo.

Wow...what a life. Friday night and I'm in bed by 22h30. I guess having to get up early for the little finches is a good excuse. They are now used to me being mommy, so as I walk into the room the buzzing starts.

Bad day from the bird side though. The little grey baby died this morning. I had to fetch two pigeons, and have them both euthanased because of old and bad fractures. A Black-collared Barbet came in with a broken leg, so will need to take him thru to the bird vet tomorrow morning - it's too high for me to be able to splint/strap it. And another pigeon with probable paramyxo virus.

This was all from home, I chickened out of doing the afternoon shift at the rehab centre. Spent the day buying music online - all sorts of sad songs, mostly in Afrikaans, and doing and redoing the playlist for the 'last CD'. As a good JAP (or kugel, in SA) would say "music to die for, doll". This was in between going to fetch birds from all over, and taking my big dog to the vet. He has a couple of small bumps on his face, and as he has already been operated on for mast cell cancer, I'd prefer to have them whipped off and biopsied.

So to bed, with Harry Potter (#4), am rereading the whole series. If you want something to perve at, look for pics of Daniel Radcliffe in his Equus role. Yo. There should be laws about letting 17 year olds look so ...ummm...hot! Makes fat old cows like me feel positively pedophiliac. Apparently the show is almost porno in places, but it's playing to packed houses, and I'd hazard a guess that a good chunk of the audience is there purely for Daniel's strip scenes. Oh well...let me take the clean-cut and innocent version off to read in bed.

raw

So after last weeks blow-up, things were a bit tense with the Duckbuddy, but I had thought we'd gotten through the bad patch. Especially since - ignoring everything I had said - she twisted my arm into coffee at her house. Her house as opposed to anywhere in the universe that I actually wanted to go.

The early evening conversation started with telling me that her husband had yelled at her for not eating supper, and she'd lied about having a big lunch. Last time she saw p-doc, he was threatening her with either dropping her as a patient, or sending her to a closed anorexia ward, which would also be dropping her, as she would be seeing the staff p-doc. He said basically the same things the time before. And the time before that.

I know these things because she told me. In detail. Not because of any other source.

Last night I said that she has to eat if she doesn't want to end up with those options. First reply was the "don't shout at me, I'm already stressed because of husband". Second was "how do you know what he thinks, have you been discussing me". A couple more messages getting really bitchy about me presuming to have any idea of either what is good for her, or specifically, me presuming to tell her what p-doc has/will said.

I know these things because she told me. In detail. Not because of any other source.

Last sms started off with "I want to end this friendship". followed by a few other choice remarks. I didn't reply.

I can fight many things to save a relationship. But I can't fight paranoia, and I can't fight self-centredness that results in whatever I say being ignored or dissected for evil intentions. And I can't fight those when they are coupled with the in between moments of complete dependence which is normally indicated by statements such as 'please don't hate me, everyone hates me, I am so unloved...' etc.

I am so lost and hurting at the moment already, and I don't have the resources to be strong for someone else instead of for myself. DB is a wonderful friend when she wants to be. But lately it doesn't seem as if she ever does want to be wonderful with me. Maybe I should try to be strong and wonderful to me instead.

Needless to say, I cried with p-doc for the whole appt, without mentioning the duckbuddy issue. Bit of a med shuffle around, finished with Cipralex. And now starting on Risperdal. He didn't mention ECT, and neither did I. BP is too high to start Nardil, but that is only possible next week after the SSRI washout is finished.

Saw t-doc a bit later, walked in crying, continued through whole session, walked out still crying. Told her about the messages and disagreements. She tried to help. Only problem is that if my reactions were reasonable, it then means that it is not what I've done that is to blame, it is what I am. A fat, ugly, horrible loser.

Achievement for the day: not killing any little birds, and dropping some of them back at the centre. Down to 9 needing hand-feeding, and the man who homed my mynahs is willing to have the feral pigeons as well. Will do a soft release there, where we gradually let them out more, and keep feeding. Gives them the choice of leaving when they feel ready to, and if not...I still have a couple of very recognisable birds that I released at home almost 5 months ago. Don't know where they sleep, but they come for afternoon tea every day.

it really is the empty nest syndrome...

Today was the day. I took all 14 of my still-inside mynahs to their new home. All of them have homes within this man's immediate family. Apparently there has been great debate over who gets, and how many.

The house seems so quiet without them in the clinic room, having their loud and raucous discussions. Not that it's empty - I have 3 doves, 3 pigeons, 1 sparrow, 1 thrush, 3 finches, 1 mousebird and a nestling of unknown parentage. I think it is a hadeda ibis, but not completely convinced of that. It would get the same food whatever it is, so not too critical tonight.

But I hand-raised almost all of them, and they are so sweet and funny. I know they have gone to excellent homes - they will all be handled enough so that they become completely tame, and new-dad firmly believes in not caging them or clipping wings. He says they will stay inside for a week to be fussed over, then have one small wing clip so that they can explore outside safely - after that they won't be restrained at all, and will hopefully all stay because they want to.

I don't take any money for them, although one can apparently sell them quite easily. I want my babies to go to the right kind of homes, rather than just to someone who has money and won't love them they way they deserve. And this way, I keep the final say on each home.

P-doc tomorrow. I am scared of seeing him, because I still don't know whether I want to try another round of ECT. 50/50 odds on it working, based on prior experiences. But I'm clutching at straws now, just need something to work. I am even beginning to feel that I just can't wait till p-doc comes up with something that works. At 6 weeks a pop for each tryout, it's just too many miserable weeks. And I am just too tired to keep on doing it. Current med hoard is 320 good psych drugs, including 171 TCAs, 50 SSRIs and a nice mix of anti-psychotics, ritalin, and other stuff. There are also 4 serious anti-nausea tabs, and 82 good sleeping pills. I wish I could give them to p-doc, or turf them, but whenever I think of doing that, the little shoulder-devil reminds me that if I give these up, it will be a long cold spell before p-doc ever gives me enough extra to make it as guaranteed as any attempt can be. It's not that I am not trying to be positive and I do believe that he will find a solution. Someday. Maybe this week. Maybe next week. Maybe next year. If it gets down to the over and out, I have to succeed, and until I stop waking up every morning feeling like this, I need my backstop bottle.

Last time I felt good, in May '06 for 4 days, I immediately gave him my 111 Parnate back. Ha bloody ha - that was the 3rd day, and 24 hours later I hit the wall face first. In some strange way though, knowing that I have the way out in my cupboard seems to help with trying to hang on. Guess I am part alien, as p-doc reckons. Meds don't work, my body works backwards, and so does my mind....

too tired to blog

Now being THAT tired doesn't happen often! Goes without saying though that it wasn't tired enough to go to sleep early. Spent this morning sleeping in the bath. With a basket of little birds next to me, so when they screamed lots I could half wake up, feed them, lie back saying to myself that I must wash and get out now. Repeat last sentence every half hour.

Lack of desire to get up has been around for a while, but the Leponex is definitely contributing. Haven't had to sleep in the morning like this since we tried the Prothiaden, which made me sleep all night, all morning (after a location shift to the bath), and all afternoon (location shift to the couch). Before we gave up on it having any a/d effect at all, I worked out that most days I was asleep for at least 18 hours.

Busy day at the centre yesterday - more than half the shift (all new people) just failed to rock up. Left me with an absolute full house in the clinic, and one person to do the outside feeds. To give her due credit, she worked her ass off, and between us, we got almost up to date by 13h00. Hadn't been able to take birds to the vet in the morning, so instead of going home, I did the vet runs. Back to the centre in time to sort out a few more waifs and strays, and do handover on the vet cases that I'd brought back. Got home eventually at 17h30 - for a half day shift! Brought lots of little ones, including 3 red-headed finch nestlings. Too sweet. The skin in their mouths is black dots on a white background, so that when mommy brings food she has a very visible target to aim for in the dark nest. They are still adapting to mommy not looking quite the same as she did two days ago, but once they do, there is a never ending, low-pitched hum from them, broken only by a ten-fold increase in volume when the nest is touched. Just in case the food giver is in doubt about where to deliver...

I don't know if I can actually do the whole wild-care thing anymore. I am becoming obsessed with the ones that I can't save again. Last Jan it was so bad that I eventually stopped doing shifts at all, and then ended up in hospital for 3 weeks, when we started the Parnate. Which did nothing. Up till then I'd been doing 5 shifts at least every week, and I've never gotten back to that. Now I'm mostly doing one or two, but making up for it by doing more and more of the pickups and catches. And I have my own huge collection of mynahs and pigeons, and the babies that I bring home from the clinic. But I am looking at them with this little devil on my shoulder the whole time that says 'don't love them, they are all going to die anyway because you are so crap at caring for them'. Statistically, depending on the species and the age, I know that some of them will definitely die - amongst the species that I chose to take, and the little, pink, eyeball-less ones, I know that it's likely that at least 1 third will die, some of them up to 2 thirds. I tell myself not to take these ones, but then I feel the guilt anyway, if they stay in the clinic, because when we are so busy they end up missing out on some of the feeds they should ideally have.
Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

Sometimes I am sure that I have the best possible job in the world. Other times, like now, it's probably going to be the cherry on top of the suicide cake...

aching muscles

Well... going to bed early, taking Leponex very early, phone call from t-doc, alarm and two reminders on phone all failed to get me up and awake at 06h30. Not a total disaster, because I did leap up at 07h30, made coffee, fed the cats, slung all the birdies into baskets feeding as I went, put food out for stay-at-homes, and leaped into the swimming pool instead of having a bath. That confused hell out of the dogs... mommy washing her hair in somewhat chilly water while cursing fluently. Out the pool, into denims and rehab tee-shirt, birds in car as I delivered food to aviary birds, coffee as I ran back and forward past it, a gulp at a time. Probably a new record for me : wake up to closing gate in only twenty three minutes. So only about 15 minutes late - although it will probably result in a few more speeding fines. Last month I distinguished myself by getting 7 separate fines (these devious little cameras that they hide on the side of the road, and move every day or so. So by the time you find there was one there, it's gone elsewhere, and you can't go beat it to smithereens. Although, I have to confess that the same intersection got me three times in four days, twice going south, and then one going north.). None of them are really really fast - it's all things like doing 119 in a 100 km/h zone, or 91 in an 80 km/h zone. But they have recently increased the fines substantially, as well as lowering the limits for which they can haul you to court without the option of paying the fine. So I really need to work on leaving to go places with enough time so that I don't have to speed. Haha. With my current abysmal failing at doing anything when it should be done, I seem to permanently disorganised and late for things. Guess if there is nothing you want to do, and nowhere you want to go.....

So apart from working my way from one end of the clinic to the other, and then going back to the beginning because it was already time for the next feed, at least one of the other good volunteers came in unexpectedly. She is a 4th year vet student, so we could just divide the clinic in half and just do our bits without either of us having to check on the other. And it also means having someone to hold the birds when medicating. Especially the Gymnogene (African Harrier Hawk), which is a raptor about 24 inches long - and has lots of sharp, pointy bits that need to be restrained while a gastric tube is inserted and food and meds are tubed. It can be done singlehandedly, but much easier with someone to hold the bird. None of the afternoon shift turned up, so there will be crap about that next week, but luckily the morning shift were very generous with time, and prepared all the afternoon feeds for the cases that are in outside aviaries. That helped enormously.

Worst bit : finding a dead Barn Owl in one of the outside aviaries when I did a round to check on all the cases. I hate it when owls die. And Barnies have such sweet, lovable little faces. I don't think anyone at the centre doesn't have a really soft spot for them.

Best part : getting a call for a large lizardy thing that needed catching and relocation from a suburban garden. Info - a metre long, up a tree, very angry. No idea of what exactly it was. Our indigenous monitors and iguanas are normally very aggressive. They can take a finger off with a bite, and have been known to break ribs and fingers with a lash of the tail. No-one else willing and able to take the call. Most of the calls like this one are done by either Bosslady or me, and there are about another 4 people who could do it, but no-one around today. So I went to catch the beastie, armed with gloves, nets, large dustbin to transport him in, and my fingers crossed that I wouldn't screw it up and lose him. It was also the first time I had been able to sit for longer than a minute all day (time was 12h50). With lots of help from the home owners who'd called us, I eventually netted and binned one very unhappy Green Iguana - after I'd been balancing on a 4m ladder and sawing off branches so that I could get my net around to where he was sitting. Needless to say, all this was done with sweat dripping and adrenalin pumping.

Longest part : trying to be friendly and polite to everyone, when all I wanted to do was just run for home and cry.

What I would like most right now : someone to hold and love and who would be very generous and massage my neck and shoulders into some semblance of pain-free movement. Wishful thinking...


And I'd better move my fat butt into the bed and get some sleep before another shift in the morning.

a feather-full house

Birds for the day:

12 pigeons and a finch - outside
4 mynahs - outside
6 mynahs - inside, feeding on own
4 mynahs - inside not eating on own
3 thrush pinkies - ""
3 pigeons - ""
2 doves - ""
1 mousebird - ""
3 sparrows - ""
1 crested barbet - ""
1 olive thrush - ""

Tomorrow I am working fullday at the centre. T-doc offered to call me at 06h30 to try get my lazy fat ass out of bed, so I can get to the centre on time. Not going to be fun - me and a bunch of newbies, so most of the day will be spent doing the feeds and medication that they can't do yet, and in between, explaining a million times how to prepare food items, and how much, and where things are. And the same again on Monday morning. I am tired already, just thinking about it.

And of course, all the babies who aren't feeding themselves have to come with me.

Took Leponex at about 16h30, so hopefully I won't feel so dead in the morning. P-doc reckons go to 3 without waiting, seeing as 2 did nothing.

Just stuffed my obese and ugly face with barbecued ribs. Bad thing about current meds is that I am pretty much not hungry at all until about 15h00, so I end up not eating all day. And then when it gets to evening, I suddenly start wanting food, and then I eat too much.

US readers...anyone know much about Optifast personally? The web site looks encouraging, but then it would, seeing as it is written by the manufacturer. Was reading about a woman who lost huge amounts of weight in the current book - "Love's Executioner" by Irvin D. Yalom. Very good book - cases of psychotherapy from his practice. And the Optifast sounds very effective too.

Meanwhile, let me take myself off to bed with the furballs and the fervent hope that tomorrow is bloody marvelous rather than just bloody Sunday.

friday can join thursday in the naughty corner

Translation : today was just as crap as yesterday. Disorganised and chaotic. Traffic on way to t-doc was so snafu'd that I got there almost half an hour late, and cried most of the way there cos I was so frustrated. Didn't do much at FM except for leaving some birds, picking up a whole bunch more, and leaving late enough so that I got caught in rush hour. Feel guilty as hell for not doing my shift. Would have been worse if I'd stayed though - even now, my eyes are still red and sore.

Needless to say, cried at t-doc for the full hour. Even literally cried on her shoulder when she hugged me.

Have only killed 3 birds today, but am worried that at least 2 of the current ones will die overnight.

Two Leponex give me a tired neck. I know. It doesn't make sense, and it's not a normal kind of side effect.

Can't even sleep late tomorrow 'cos of babies and painter coming to do the cottage.
And on Sunday, it's the rehab centre all day as stand-in manager, and then again on Monday morning - seeing as I stuffed up today's shift(and lied about having to go to the office). I am such a nasty dishonest piece of shit.

I wouldn't want to be friends with a fat, ugly, loser like me either...

bad thursday....... naughty thursday! go to your room immediately! and no dessert either

Poor p-doc. I was crying before I even got to his rooms. And the whole way through the appointment. He's a medical only p-doc, by preference, but he usually does 30 min appts so that there's some talking and assessment. Even though he is always nice, I can still see that he's not that comfortable with howling witches in his office. And I've pretty much cried the whole day. P-doc reckons it might be from cutting down on the Cipralex, having taken out Ludiomil last week. What sucks is that if that's the case, then I really wish that either of them had shown a positive effect while I was taking lots of the stuff.

Meds... for the week. I'm tempted to add a 'meds for the day' sidebar, because they keep changing so often. I do take all of them for at least 3 weeks, but they generally overlap each other. So if I am stopping one, he'll taper it off at the same time as he starts something else. Sometimes he will put in one that he refers to as a holding drug, while he does a partial washout. So from tonight:
Cipralex : 3 for 4 days, then 2 for 2 days, then 1 for 2 days and then stop.
Leponex : up to 2 for 3 days, then 3 for 3 days, then 4.
Tertroxin : still 1 a day, but planning on it being in for at least a month.(How do I know these things, you ask? Easy. 'Cos he gave me a script for 30. which also gives me a clue about not taking those for the great escape - if he gives me that many, they can't be useful in OD...)
Quilonum : lithium. He reckons it will maybe kick the others up a bit.
Zopimed : sleeping tab. Up to 1.5 because I whinged so much about not being able to get to sleep at night, even with the Leponex. This is a sore point for him because he doesn't want to give me any at all until I have used up my stash, but he also knows that I can't/won't make myself use those on a daily basis, and he can see that I look and feel like shit, and I'm tired all day, and I am only getting my 9 hours or so if I sleep through the alarm.

And then in the middle of the howling bit, I said that I was so tired of existing like this that I would even consider ECT again. Same as with meds, sometimes it has worked, sometimes not. I don't like it because of the complete memory loss of 3 or 4 weeks after that. I'm fine in realtime, can remember everything from any other time, but what happens seems to just not get filed in memory. He looked very pleased with that, and have a strange feeling that he is going to schedule it for as soon as he can after he gets back from next weeks conference. Oh..and of course the other reason for not wanting it is that I don't particularly want him to see me in that charming hospital gown and cap. Which is really stupid of me. Especially if I've already been sitting in his office crying my heart out. And I cry really really ugly. Really. It's always been one of the reasons why I hate being upset in front of anyone. Not that I'm vain at all...no really, not vain!

Rest of day...I paid my R2000 in speeding fines, and got my car's licence renewed, only 2 months late. Chased a goose with fishing line knotted around his legs but couldn't catch him. Tried to tell DB why I am annoyed without fighting, but failed. Selective interpretation. Annoyed her by what I said yesterday, so will delete that. If anyone ever reads this crap, please forget what you read yesterday. Came home and cried in between feeds. Only 17 birdlets tonight, as I dropped some off at the centre today. Would dearly love to go out for pizza and lots and lots of vodka, but no can do. Promised p-doc not to drink at all while on the Leponex, and standing BP was a bit high today. How ass backwards is this; my BP goes up by 10/20 when I stand up. Postural hypotension is supposed to work the other way. P-doc said he wasn't surprised by that...he still doubts that I'm actually human, not some alien life form sent to plague him.

So now that the Leponex are kicking in a bit, think I will declare today over. Only 20h45, but enough is enough already. Standard goodnight wish for myself - that the morning is either better or dead. Sleep tight for all us southern hemisphere types, and the rest of y'all (tx GG) have a good day.

at least something good happened today

Archie the meerkat has won a reprieve!

Last night, apparently, an anonymous phone call (hehehe) was made to Archie's former owner, to let him know what his idiot tenant had done, and that because of the rehab centre's legal standing with nature conservation authorities, we would be unable to defy the confiscation by the State Vet. Some advice was given on possible action that could be taken by him, even if we couldn't act openly.

This morning, the owner contacted all parties, and then spent the day with Archie before the State Vet came to the centre to assess Archie. He passed the inspection with honours...the Vet said that it was absolutely impossible for him to be rabid. He decided that just to err on the side of caution, Archie should spend ten days at the centre being monitored, as we have the knowledge to judge whether his behaviour is normal for a meerkat. And after that, he will go back to his owner. Because he had a shattered pelvis as a youngster which was pinned surgically by an expert vet, we were hesitant about his release potential - generally, nothing is released with any kind of implant that could migrate and cause further problems for the animal. I'm not sure what plans have been made in terms of the bitee and Archie meeting again. But I think all of us involved with the centre are very relieved tonight.

Our policy involves euthanasia for animals that are not releasable, but as far as I know, we have never been put in a position of having to euthanase a healthy animal without everything in our power being done to find a solution. The only other meerkat incident that was similar was Twiggy, whose captivity (as a pet) had resulted in semi-psychosis. She was integrated into a group, where she became alpha female, and while still in our care, where food was provided daily, she coped reasonably. Although she did manage to bite almost everyone who went in the enclosure except for Bosslady - Twiggy regarded Bosslady as dominant, and obeyed her. When the group was being hacked out in the desert though, and the survival of the whole tribe depended on them functioning as a team, Twiggy became rampantly psychotic and paranoid, and her behaviour prevented the group from foraging properly. Eventually, she had to be removed from the group, and Bosslady had the unenviable task of driving 13 hours to get to the site just to euthanase what (on her own again with people) was by then a submissive and affectionate meerkat.

That was the best bit of the day.

The worst is that Duckbuddy and I are having a kind of fight. Has to be labelled "kind of" because she doesn't talk on the phone, so daily conversations are carried out by sms. I know... it's weird, but she has a whole lot more hangups than that as well. Makes me look like the life and soul of the party. So today's bit started when she nagged about when we are going to have coffee, and I just figured that I am tired of always being the one who has to go out of my way to meet her at one of two places, both within a kilometre of her house.

She has previously told me that she hates it when I bring baby birds with, and that "other people" are upset by it. Nobody has ever even hinted to me that they don't like it - quite the reverse. Especially if they have kids, most people want to have a closer look, to hold a baby, and to show their kids what baby birds look like.
So when she wanted me to make time tomorrow, I explained that I couldn't because of birds. I see p-doc tomorrow at 11h00, just down the road from her house, but it will take me 30 mins to get there, 30 mins back, 30 mins with him, and more time if he is running late. So it's at least 90 mins to go see him, which means that I have to take 3 thrushes, 1 bulbul, 2 sparrows, 1 mynah and a wagtail. These have to be caged in at least 2 different baskets (minimum), and if I can't get covered parking, they all have to go with me to p-doc. He likes birds, and doesn't mind if they come with me, as long as they behave while I am seeing him. If I allow for extra time to have coffee, I would also have to take another 2 mynahs, 3 crested barbets and a pigeon. Means at least 4 baskets, and some very noisy birds. Can't manage that.

So Duckbuddy started doing the don't hate me and you don't understand all my social phobias and anxiety issues and and and. I DO understand them, I've been f**king making allowances for them for a year now, since I've known her. But today was just too much. When I can't go all the way there to see her because of bird-feeding schedules, I keep suggesting that we meet halfway. Or that she comes to my house. In over a year of being friends she has never come here. I only went to her house for the first time about 3 months ago. Ok, I don't like bringing people here that much either. She invokes having to fetch her daughter from play group at 12 as a reason why she can't come anywhere closer to where I live. I'm not expecting miracles, but every now and then it would be nice if she would make some compromises. She IS socially phobic, but she manages to do a whole bunch of other things that involve her going out and seeing people. Just not for me.

Tried to tell her some of that in response to her moans today. Just got told that p-doc understands all about her problems, and I don't. We see same p-doc, by the way. One of the other things she is paranoid about is him finding out that we are friends. Admittedly, we do talk about him, which we probably shouldn't, but I don't think he'd give a toss if he knew that we know each other. Besides, we were in hospital together last year anyway, and (I sneaked a peek at my chart once. OK, more than once...) and the notes from my hourly suicide watch bit kept saying that 'patient was talking to patient DB', so he probably knows from then anyway.

Actually make that 'knew' - his memory is kind of spotty, probably because there are three million thoughts in his mind at any time and unimportant factoids get turfed quite fast. Sort of relevant ones too, sometimes. Last week he looked at his notes from the previous week, muttered to himself a bit, and then asked me what he had been thinking of doing i.r.o. meds when he wrote notes, because he couldn't remember what his cryptic messages were about!

So now DB tells me that I hate her. I said let's rather leave off talking about this for tonight. She says that I'll still hate her tomorrow and that I don't understand her anxiety. I don't hate her. Maybe I don't understand, because she manages to cope with it well enough to do everything she wants to do, from what she tells me. Maybe I am just a miserable old bitch anyway. I am so apathetic and devoid of energy that to me, any activity that requires that I leave the house, even if it is for half an hour, is a complete mission. I move so slowly getting ready, then rush to whatever it is, and am exhausted by the time I get home. Mostly I don't do half of what I am planning on doing, because I am just wiped out by being places and having to talk and be the happy walking-talking-jcat-doll. All smiley and capable on the outside. Lost and drowning within.

lots of little stars where my description of yesterdays crappy day used to be. Deleted on request.
Lots of bits put back, and little stars deleted. It's my life, my blog, no-one I know personally except DB actually knows the blogname. Not even t-doc. Reason I primarily didn't want to give DB the address when she first started asking for it was so that I could write freely. T-doc says that's cool for me to not want anyone in realtime to connect jcat the real life asshole and jcat the online version.
(2 March)

rabid beasties and other animals

The meerkat free zone at the rehab centre was breached again over the weekend, with the arrival of Archie, a 15 month old neutered male with a pin in his pelvis after it was fractured. And it has rapidly become a war zone. Archie's history - rightly or wrongly - is that of a very spoiled house pet. Slept in the house, never left alone etc. Very sociable, well behaved....until a few days ago. That's when he bit someone who (apparently) he had always disliked. Just a scratch, but it broke the skin. Bitten dude raises all hell, owner eventually decides that he had better hand Archie over to us before the idiot bitee (??) kills Archie. So he is brought to the rehab centre, along with his vaccination papers for rabies - although he has been an urban house pet, and has never come into contact with any possible carrier. Idiot rushes straight to hospital in absolute hysteria, and insists on having all the rabies treatment possible post-exposure. Owner offers to pay for all this (refused), owner offers to release idiot from remainder of lease (idiot rents accommodation from owner on owners property (refused). Idiot insists that meerkat is rabid and must be euthanased. Much back and forward debate. Until 16h30 this afternoon when we are advised that the State Vet has been called in by idiot, and that we are to isolate and secure said meerkat until the State Vet can collect him. Vets hands are tied, rehab centres hands are tied. We all know that this animal is in no possible way rabid. Unfortunately, the only way to prove this is either a post-mortem brain study, or 6 months isolation. Which is worse than a death sentence for Archie. All the knowledge in the country can do nothing faced with a hysterical whining fool.

If you ever hear of a JHB-based pianist named Thomas, ask if he was the ignorant asshole who condemned a small animal to death because of his stupidity. And then...from me, please spit in his face.

P.S. Tell him, BTW that I'm not rabid either, although I have been bitten 4 times by non-rabid meerkats, and fully expect to be bitten again in future. Meerkats bite. No, it's not pleasant, but most predators do, sooner or later.

The rest of the animals are all OK, except for me - the miserable one. I tried really hard at the centre today to be sociable and friendly to all the new volunteers, but it was a battle. I need to find something that works. Anything. Just can't keep on like this - miserable, exhausted, apathetic, futureless....

traditional coloured monday

Started off with only waking up at 08h10. Should have fed babies by 07h00, should have been at rehab centre by 07h30. Got there too late to be very useful, so mostly stuffed around feeding my babies. Then - idiot that I am - ended up taking another 4 from the centre, one mousebird and three (day-old) thrushes (?). As if I didn't have enough already to neglect. It's so dumb, because I stress about doing a good job myself if I take them, and stress that they wouldn't get enough care at the centre because the clinic is so full and boss-lady is away.

Heard as well that Timone, the meerkat who lived with one of our vets, had died suddenly, probably of a heart attack. He was the first meerkat to come into the centre as an unwanted pet, and at the time, it was decided that the vet should keep him - she knew what she was taking on, and had all the expertise and permits etc. Very sudden, and unexpected. We'll miss him at all the fund-raisers and events, as - even with all we know about how unsuited they are to being pets - Tim was kept stimulated and with enough attention, so that he remained a sweet and affectionate animal. RIP, Timone...

Rush to get to t-doc via a pick up of two doves, then spent an hour sitting there crying over nothing. She probably really wishes that I would fall over the nearest convenient cliff because it just seems to be the same stupid stuff for so long now. There IS nothing wrong that can be changed - except me. Everything else in and around my life is good. Not that t-doc is ever anything but nice, and supportive, but if I think 'enough already' every day, it must be even more so for her.

Bought some fresh veg for the centre because we didn't get our normal weekend donation, took it there, got talked into fetching a bird a few km's away that was "lying on the lawn not looking too good, and not flying away". Well yes...normally birds that are dead do find it hard to fly away when you approach. Hit rush hour traffic all the way across town to fetch another three little doves.
So the slightly less populated stabilisation area at home is now fully populated again. And because I stuffed up my morning shift today, I got my arm twisted into coming in tomorrow as early as possible, and for the whole afternoon.

No coffee with my Duckbuddy today, and probably none tomorrow either.

My nose hurts, and the last couple of stitches are pulling, and there's still a scab the size of my thumbnail. And having assessed my profile over the weekend (took 3 mirrors artfully arranged before I could see it side on without rolling my eyes and looking even dumber) - I can't think of anyone well known who has a dildo-nose like this. It starts off straight and strong, then has a little bump, followed by a noticible change of slope followed by a blob on the end. Actually, now that I'm trying to describe it - looks a lot like one of the slopes at Arrowhead, Co. One that normally has a few unexpected moguls, and a strange ending. Coooooool bananas...
my nose and a weird ski slope. Except that half my nose is red and the rest is mottled shades.

And there's a whole bunch of other things that I'd moan about, but I think they probably all fall under the TMI label.

If I'm honest - so does the whole blog. TMI applies just as much to boring as it does to intimate. (But I'll promise to tell you anyway if I ever ever get laid again....)

klutz comes to town

My parents are in JHB for the weekend. The good news is I got through the loud and raucous evening without drinking anything other then Coke Lite. The bad news is that (stonecold sober) I walked around the table, kicked the edge of the paving, knocked over the ice-bucket for the wine, swore loudly, and ended up flat out on the ground. Mortifying, very mortifying. I think maybe drinking alcohol is good for me - I never make an ass of myself like this when I've had a few.

Have been having a huge 'find free downloads of all the really esoteric SA music from the last 20 years' surf. Managed to find a few, but now I'm going on a mission -tomorrow, cos it's way past bedtime. What started this was trying to find 'Delaray', a storm in a huge teacup at the moment. It's a reasonably ok, rousing singalong kind of song - the sort that you have to listen to 300 times in a week, and then never want to hear again. General Delaray was a Boer leader in the Anglo-Boer war, and from the sounds of it, one of the good guys. But everyone is leaping up and down saying that this a call to arms for the far right Boere - hell even the guy who wrote it and sings it says its not. It's just a catchy song about the Boer War, and a bit of historical culture. I see even the loony dudes in the States are commenting on and linking to it. Pity they can't understand the words as they are; a translation loses all the poetry and meaning of many of the phrases.

Rehab in the morning, so better try get some sleep.

bipolar bitch from hell

Very disgruntled today. Quarter Leponex did so NOT make me sleep last night. P-doc said don't take sedative for an hour afterwards, I eventually took it at 23h00, and then still couldn't sleep until 01h30. My babiest mynah died this morning. I didn't do 5 out of the 6 chores I should have done, because they involved leaving the house. I pleaded illness to the rehab centre and didn't do my shift this afternoon, for the same reason. (They did have enough people, I made sure of that, and in return I agreed to doing the whole day next Sat). I didn't eat breakfast or lunch, and supper consisted of a steak, which I overcooked even tho' I was standing right there. No vegetables, because all the ones in the house looked like they needed too much thought to cook. Have just started 3rd book for the day and don't feel like reading any of them. Finished nice book by Greg Iles - Blood Memory - this morning, wish it had lasted longer. Half Leponex earlier is not doing anything noticeable. It's Friday night and my almost-date dumped me before we even got to the date bit. No mail, e- or snail, except for my overdue tv licence letter. Family dinner tomorrow, and I just don't know if I can endure being alive and sociable for at least 3 hours, even though I love my family and want to see them. No alcohol, firstly cos of new year's reduction vow, and secondly cos Lep and alcohol apparently really don't mix well - which will make sitting through dinner while everyone else has at least two glasses of wine seem even longer. No coffee with Duckbuddy till at least tues.

No real problems. Nothing wrong with anything in my life except me. Not only am I a total loser a$$hole, but I am a whining, stupid self-pitying one. If SHP hadn't already used the label, I'd appropriate it - jcat 'the miserable git'. P-doc asked for my med stash on Thu. We have a stalemate - he asks, I say no, he says 'didn't you promise to give it to me', I say no, and that the way things are dragging I still feel like I need it. Should have told him that it was perfectly safe with me at the moment, because I am so apathetic that I couldn't even organise myself into using it.

Ah hell, think I should take sleeping pill and boring book to bed. Maybe cuddling, purring cats will lull me to sleep.

kitty valentines

One of the monster-boys celebrated his version of Valentine's Day just after I went to sleep last night. No idea why, but I woke up to feel little sniffling whiskers. Followed by little fangs in the earlobe. I screamed. All 4 cats leapt from the bed and ran away. Personally, I thought screaming was a very controlled reaction to unexpected pain in a sensitive area.

Full morning today. Feed and clean all home birds. Pack all that I could divert to the centre into carrying cases. Deliver them before early appt with t-doc (accompanied by 6 babies that I was keeping, but who couldn't stay home on their own) where I just cried and got miserable. Funniest thing for the session was telling her that I could dumped by the online dating guy from the weekend. Before we even got to the dating bit. We exchanged more than 80 emails and text messages between Sat afternoon when he contacted me the first time, and Tues afternoon. Provisional date for tomorrow. On Tue he asked for a picture. Haven't heard from him since. Only reason I'm not miserable about it is that I am so miserable anyway that I figure its probably a good thing. BTW, the faking bit is something i'm very good at doing for other people, including even my friends and family, never mind strange men on the net.

Then it was off to p-doc, where I started crying before I even said hello. So it's new med plan again - phase out Cipralex, start on Leponex, keep others the same, don't do too much more until after he gets back from national shrink-congress. Then start planning Nardil. Of course, all of this changes if anything actually ever works.

After that it was vet visit, to get little broken legs splinted properly. That's an art form all on it's own, bending paperclips and toothpicks to the right angles to support the leg, and then bandaging them so that they are secure without being tight. Mynah boy, of course, screamed as if he was being tortured by fire, and did his best to bite the vets fingers. Seeing as it's mostly a bird practice though, and they are used to hearing screaming parrots and macaws, nobody even blinks at loud shrieks. And being bitten by a mynah is negligible after an owl has dug the pointy bit of his beak into the side of your nail and held on for 3 minutes. (That particular incident, as the owl bit me, the vet said 'great, now hold still in that position...', and ignored my semi-audible moans and swearing).

And by then it was lunchtime and I was so exhausted that I came home and vegetated. As if I had done something constructive. Ha ha..

Uuuuggghh

is enough to sum up today. So not good. Although I haven't killed any birds. Yet.

wish it would snow

I am very definitely a winter person by choice. Probably because I'm fat, but I have never really felt the cold much. Look at it this way - the Eskimos use whale blubber for insulation, and I'm carrying lots of it subcutaneously. And while you can always put extra clothes on...

It has been a very hot summer. Which makes it ironic that at the moment I am hauling all the heating sources out for the birdlings. The little featherless mynah that I picked up today was shivering earlier, so he is now ensconced on the heating pad. The sparrows and the pigeons are on the hot box. The mousebirds have the hotlamp, as fruit-eaters need an indirect heat source, otherwise the contents of their little tummies can ferment. Could do with an extra spot for the other mynahs to go, especially as the one poor baby has a fractured femur, so his leg is splinted and he can't huddle into himself properly. Hmmm- perhaps they can share with the littlest mynah, if I keep them in seperate cages and give each one a half of the hotpad.

It always seems weird somehow that all the heaters are out for the birds while the dogs are sprawled out on the floor tiles for a bit of coolness, and the cats won't sleep closer to me than the far side of the bed. Another thing I enjoy about winter, is the little furry hot spots in the bed.

Tomorrow is the next appt with nose-dude. Hopefully he looks happy and takes the stitches out, although it's still a bit swollen and sore across the top. P-doc can't pull his next medicinal rabbit out the hat until the antibiotics are done with, but meantime he is preparing for it. I'm off the Ludiomil already, and although it didn't do any good - maybe it was stopping a bit of bad. This week is very flat and tearful. And fractious. Enough already, I need something to work properly now. Just so tired of feeling crap, and I want my life back. Any life, cos this ain't one at the moment...

ten little ball and chains

Was awake for early feeds, only to find red-faced mousie and little swallow dead. Guess swallow was partly expected, as he was very flat yesterday.

The rest of the day until about an hour ago was basically feeding, short break, feed again. Good thing about having lots of sparrows on the list was that I don't have to time their feeds - the noise level does that for me. If I can hear them, they're hungry. And while I'm there, the others get fed as well.

It's bad because it shows that they are imprinted (which is why they are home with me, for a longer hacking out period), but the sweetest feeders today were the adult red-faced mousebird and the glossy starling. I have limited space in which to put the cages while still ensuring that they all get the right mixture of heat and light, so I ended up with the starling on the left, sparrows in the middle, and mousebirds on the right. And every time that I fed the babies, there were shrieks from the starling and wide open beak from the red-face, hoping that they'd be offered a syringe full of baby food. The inside mynahs, BTW, are hulking great juveniles, and are fiercely resisting the switch from baby puree to adult food. Not quite passive resistance, more along the lines of a food riot in jail - food everywhere except down their gullets. Mind you, the worst weaner I've known (also a mynah) was still eating baby puree from a spoon every 30 mins when she was more than 6 months old (i.e. very adult, and about 4 months at least after she should have been feeding herself. And 30 minute feeds are what the babies who are so young they don't even have eyeballs yet are given). Shows you what weak-willed mothering can do to a kid..

As FD said yesterday, 'fake it til you make it'. Might not be a relaxing w/end, but I guess it keeps me out of self-endangerment.

oh yay, it's nearly bedtime!

A sure sign of being a real loser.......is when the most exciting thing that happens on a Friday night is that you can go to bed early. Guess that part of it is working a long, hot shift at the rehab centre, which is full of little babies of all kinds.

Ended up that the biggest group of meerkats didn't go, because 3 of them were still in hiding this morning when Boss collected the rest. They came out a bit later though, and hopefully we have now dug up all the tunnels so that they can't repeat that trick. (don't you love the way I can say 'we', when this one of the group noun has not touched a shovel? Although I did pull out humungous numbers of giant weeds and tomato bushes in the enclosure yesterday). So instead of zero, we still have seven. And just so that even if that tribe had gone, we wouldn't be able to celebrate a suricate-free day, a baby arrived yesterday afternoon. Hand-raised as a pet. Only about a month old - HELL! HE SHOULDN'T EVEN BE WEANED YET!!! - ripped away from his real family, now discarded by his abductors. (And it is THEIR fault, whether they took him from his family themselves, or paid someone else to do the dirty work.) They probably didn't think that a pup this young would cry constantly for reassurance and company, that he would normally be with his siblings, mom and a babysitter 24/7, that he will try desperately to claim his territory by scent-marking and urinating everywhere. And now he is on his own, and we have to walk the difficult line between giving him the physical contact that he absolutely has to have and not wanting to reinforce his imprintedness any more. We might be able to introduce him into the tribe that stayed behind, but not until their juveniles are a bit older, and not until he is at least a month older. And even then, there is no guarantee that they won't just kill him outright because he is regarded as a threat to their bloodlines. Then again...it could be his fate with any other meerkat he ever meets. And a meerkat on his own in the wild would be lucky to make it to the end of his first day alone.

GGGRRR....how to piss off a wildlife rehabilitator in one easy move!

However, between the long afternoon, the soreness of nose and the oh so delicious combo of TCA, SSRI, T3, sedative and antibiotic, this tired rehabber is heading for bed. Oh - don't forget the stomach stuffed full of fresh sushi that I picked up on the way home. There is a lovely Afrikaans saying, 'Maagie vol, oe toe'. Translation is 'stomach full, eyes closed' but it doesn't sound as quaint in English.

And I need to be up early, given the following house guests :
9 mynahs (eat on their own but need food given to them)
12 pigeons (ditto)
1 red-headed finch (ditto)
1 glossy starling (ditto, but has to go into aviary here as he is too imprinted)
3 sub-adult mousebirds (ditto # 2)
1 bulbul (also ditto # 2)
2 fledgling mousebirds (need hand-feeding every hour)
8 sparrows, ranging from a pinky without eyes yet to a fledgling that is almost ready to go, as soon as he can feed himself (all need feeding every hour)
1 swallow (ditto # 3)

Breakfast should preferably be delivered at sunrise - unless the screams wake me up, it will probably arrive 90 mins later. Rule of first feeds says that one should never tube a bird until you can keep your eyes open properly...!

busy, busy, busy

- well, busy for me at least. Standard wake up late, standard stuff around feeding cats and birds, cleaning up bird cages etc.

Then off to see p-doc, who is very umimpressed with nose and its current state, because it interferes with his drugs. So for this week, all we do is increase Cipralex/Lexapro to 60mg, cut the Ludiomil down to nothing, and then, nose permitting, start a real dog of a med next week - Leponex/Clozaril. Not only is it a fat drug (or cuddly...as J so sweetly euphemises it), but it is likely to make you drool and wet the bed, as well as a whole bunch of other stuff. But : as always, if that is what it takes to lift this whale-shit feeling off the sea bed, I'll take it and hope.

We also talked a bit about Ketamine - a few months ago I was really interested in this, after some of the initial studies on its rapid, rapid mood elevation. I would still be keen to try it - imagine spiking a drug and waking up happy within a day! He has a new variation though, using ket and valium in a controlled theatre situation, followed by (and this is the exciting bit that he couldn't remember the link to....) an enhanced response to most a/d's. Cool,cool,cool bananas. If I can find the study to back it up - and it then becomes a theatre drug trip every few months with - dare I even hope - something like a standard 20mg dose of Prozac. Absolute heavenly choirs and angels on fluffy clouds etc!

But meantime it is just removing stuff, so there's the offchance of being cast deeper into the wallowing pits of despair. Which is deep enough already, I spent half the appt crying, and I really, really hate crying in front of him.
And then if nothing to date brings sunshine, it's on to the Nardil.

And after all the various p-delights on offer, I went to see t-doc. So first of all she got the remainder of p-docs tears. Then she got her own lot over the meerkat thing and what a failure I am there, and then we somehow managed to get in another 2 or 3 crying subjects.

Post t-doc, I went to drop off a dove at the rehab centre , a two minute in and out delivery. Bosslady figures I owe her for dropping out of the meerkat trip, and exacted retribution in the form of assisting with the catching and crating of the said devils spawn. Hometime stretched from 15h15 to 19h55, with lots of hard labour, resulting in a totally aching and sore jcat. I swear...no-one out there has any idea of what a non-existent body fitness indicator I have. I am the one the machines won't even start up for in case I expire while on them. Bad bad bad bad.

Just no more bad for tonight please, this inn is full - even the stables.

of noses and nothing

I saw nose surgeon this morning. Quite strange, when I arrived for last week's appointment, the whole reception was packed full, with a good mix of people who were early, people who were late, people who were emergency referrals....I ended up seeing him 2 hours later. Not a problem, it just gives me two hours of Sudoku with a good excuse as to why I am just sitting around doing puzzles.

Today, I was the only person there other than the reception staff, and I got to see him 5 mins earlier than scheduled. And out within 5 mins too. He wasn't particularly happy with the way the graft is healing, so now have a week of oral and cream antibiotics before he takes the stitches out.

When I asked his opinion of whether I should go spend two weeks chasing little meerkats around in the semi-desert all day, he thought I was joking at first - but wasn't quite sure why I thought that would be amusing. When he realised I was serious, he said no way. Not at all in the next two weeks, and after that only once he is satisfied with the scar.

I feel like an absolute jerk about this, cos I had to tell my rehab boss that I was pulling out - had warned her on Monday, but still...basically 2 days notice. At the same time I am relieved, that I won't have to go out there and fail a group of meerkats because of my stupidity and unfitness. I'm not sure which is worse now, doing it or not doing it.

I guess at least Nic won't die of disappointment, whereas my failings would have jeopardised the lives of the tribe.

little things dying all over

Started this morning with a dead mynah. Passed through a couple of euthanased birds (paramyxa and trichomoniasis), and another that will go that route tomorrow - spinal injury. Finished with a dead red-faced mousebird.

And in between...I had a dentist appointment which turned into a whole new crown, saw t-doc and just cried for an hour, and my nose looks/smells like it is either infected or just rejecting the graft.

And worst of all, what happened to my poor Duckbuddy. She lost her 20 year old cat a couple of months ago. After a while, her husband brought home (unexpectedly) two Burmese kittens of almost 3 months. Last week he was away on business, and the male kitten developed overnight signs of some really bad disease, which is apparently chronic in Burmese, and which, she discovered, is known to be congenital by the breeder. So h/b took him back to the breeder over the weekend. This morning, she put a load of laundry into the washing machine...and when the wash finished, they found that the little girl kitten had crawled into the machine, probably for a nice comfortable nap, and had drowned. DB is shattered, and nothing I can say is going to take that little corpse off her conscience. It's been a really bad couple of weeks for her already. I want to help, but I'm so close to sucking exhaust already, that there isn't very much I can offer. Just wish I could wave a wand...

Oh, and in between all the cr*p, there was one funny bit. I see an amazing dentist, who I was referred to by my rehab boss. In turn, I've sent him a couple of my closest friends. And discovered that another friend has been seeing him for 20 years or more. So this morning I'm lying there with my mouth half numb, and he checked to see if my meds are still the same, to which I said yes, for at least the next 3 days. He tells me that all I really need is the right medication, and that he has just the right Dr for me. Sings his Dr's praises for the next few minutes - turns out he (dentist) has really bad panic attacks, but all is well now thanks to Dr putting him on the right meds. Tells me to see Dr J, who is frantically busy, but I might be able to get in with a referral from dentist. So the next time he took his fingers out of my mouth so that I could talk, I told him that yes, Dr J is amazing, and I've been seeing him for 18 months! Well, after that he kept me on short rations for the nitrous oxide...kept telling me that Dr J wouldn't want me floating around the place half-stoned...

may you live in interesting times

- that's supposed to be a reallly nasty thing to wish on anyone. And I'd be OK with the current times being a bit less interesting.

So after big-time wipeouts on Weds, Fri and Sat, today was done on auto-pilot. Wake up, feed babies, take tortoise to the best reptile vet in town - it came in on Sat with a massive depressed shell fracture, which was clearly not new, since there were maggots and flies deep in the wound. Going to be major surgery for her, just to see what's happening inside, and I suspect that it will be just too much internal damage and infection to fix. Then helped the new tenants in my cottage to move in. The previous tenant had been here for 3 years, the whole way through her university studies, and was an absolute angel. Only thing she didn't do was tell me that quite a few areas needed damp-proofing, so that now has to happen with the new tenants in residence.
For some really unknown reason, I signed up for an online dating thing - blame it on Guiness Girl, and her posts! So far I have had 3 indications of interest, one of which has done my mood a whole lot of good. He is 32 (9 years younger than me), very cute, student (but has just spent a tour of duty with the marines in Germany), did I mention cute? And seems to have a fascination with fatter, older ladies. And likes to give massages. Whoooohhhh! He came to JHB this weekend, but when I have a huge nose wound that is not looking to good - it's a bit grey and oozy, and don't think it's supposed to look quite like that - I figured I'd postpone a meeting for a drink or two until next time round.
Trying to think of positives about this meerkat trip. So far, all I have come up with is that I'm going to be doing way more excercise than normal, in great heat, so between sweating a lot and drinking water, I should flush my system out a bit, and maybe even lose a few kgs. Especially if I only take minimal amounts of food with, and no treats. Well, will have to get go-ahead from surgeon first.
Have cheated again, ended up having a few drinks last night, and again tonight. Not nearly as much as I had been, so I'm hoping my tolerance is dropping and that I'll get to falling over levels much sooner.
One of the bad things that we've discovered over the last year is that my liver seems to have way more efficiency than the rest of me. As in I can tolerate high dosages, with very minimal side-effects, and those I am willing to live with if only the damn meds would do their jobs. Went some for some genotyping tests earlier this year, but all that they showed was that I was within the normal and efficient parameters. The only funny liver bit so far was when Dr J sent me for - amongst other things - liver function testing, and he'd said in advance that with my alcohol abuse, I should expect some poor results. Well...they came back to show that I have an impressively active liver, that is actually just so, so healthy all round! I think J was a bit disappointed - not that he would wish anything bad on me, but that he was hoping to be able to say that there was noticable lifestyle damage. I did manage to refrain from more than a few seconds of smugness...
Seeing t-doc tomorrow. Good, I need a bit of hand-holding and kicking me back to a less destructive path.

even with nice times, saturday is still never-ending

Good things : comments/mail from FD and Peggy, releasing a whole bunch of tortoises, hedgehogs and a terrapin, my so sweet and cocky mynahs - the babies inside as well as the guys that are being hacked out, my desperate pigeon-lings - they are all eating well, but when they see me it's a frantic 'wheepwheepwheep' and shoving their heads into my hand on the off-chance that I might feed them, my boss - even if she crapped on me about the mynahs, and told me to keep them to myself, no picking them up from the centre etc.

But even with almost 6 hours of today being fetching and releasing critters....I still have to come home with big-time loser a**hole jcat. It is such a futile idiot thing to do, but I ended up cutting last night. Bicep with the whole neat checkerboard, and then the adidas stripes on the forearm. Followed by the normal Q's as to what bit me...and the standard answer of I fell out of a tree. And double triple idiot that I am...did both parts of the left arm again tonight.

Cutting...probably the most definitive borderline symptom. In 1992, the 2nd time I went skiing in Colorado with my folks, I was browsing in the local bookshop. Picking up about 15kg of books that I just couldn't resist - most of which I wore in a backpack under my jacket to take home with me. No idea of why I just beelined in on a book on the psych shelf. It just called me, skimmed through the first couple of chapters, thought 'thank f**k...it's not only me' as I read the 9 definitive BPD characteristics. Since then, I'm supposed to have grown out of a lot of it. There have always been a couple of things that have never really fitted. But there have always been a few of the total loser behaviours that have hung around, that come out of the woodwork when I'm bottoming out.

I cut the first time when I was at boarding school, when I was about 15. Couple of times where I lied, and got away with it, then the time I figured that I was going places I didn't really want to explore - and turned myself in. Got kicked out of the boarding house, saw the first of the p-docs...so so NOT a bond of any kind. And then I kind of kept it together for about 12 years. In hindsight?? Maybe if I'd owned up to how lost and screwed up I was then...maybe I'd not be drowning now. Maybe I'd have done a proper job of offing myself long ago. Maybe I'd have gotten to the other side of the dead places.

Biggest regret of my whole life? Shortcutting out of here seems to have become a constant undercurrent. But there has only been one attempt. And apparently it was close...1993...almost made it. There have been a whole lot of good things since. There have also been a whole lot of things that I just haven't even tried for - because I know what a stupid idiot loser asshole I really am, that I can't even fake being someone worthwhile. I really wish that I had succeeded then. And meanwhile.. as interim self-inflicted punishment....I cut. And contrary to standard BPD stuff that says you outgrow the ugly evidence - seems that the older I get, the more I end up taking out the cr*p on my epidermis. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Repeat X 10000000.
Such a total loser.

full-up friday

Today was one of the very few that I was actually useful to anyone. Started off with (as always) caring for my at-home birds, the ones no-one else will care for. Then spent the rest of the morning doing some IT work. Should have been only an hour or two, but as is usual for me nowdays, I screwed it up right at the beginning. Luckily I could fix it, and then get the new work done, but it is so humiliating, even if nobody else is aware of it. I used to be so so hot at my job, I was always the first/youngest/best at it...and now I am barely coping with a few part-time hours. Sometimes I think that it is unfair of me to still contract to my employer, when I know what an absolutely useless wanker I am. If they find someone to replace me, I would understand it. Meantime at least I can lurch from one crisis to the next, and keep the system pretty much stable and available. Guess that's about all that rescues me - the fact that my bosses don't actually realise what a loser I am.
And then to one of my few shifts at the rehab centre. I used to do at least 5 or 6 shifts a week, but since last year Jan it's about all I am capable of to just be there for one shift. In between, yeah, there's all sorts of pickups and catches etc, so I go there often anyway - just not as someone they can rely on to either staff the centre, or, when the manager is away, to run it, as I did a couple of times before this downer took hold.
What is really scaring me now, is that my boss has asked me to be one of three 'pack leaders' for troupes of meerkats (suricata suricatta) that are going to be released.
It means going away to the almost-desert for at least 10 days, probably two weeks, to get them acclimatised, take them foraging, monitor their progress etc. Just about every other volunteer would be better at it, but the number of people who can take the time away limits the choices. I can't say no, because it really has to be done, but I am so terrified of this. I don't have the bush skills needed, I am way too fat and unfit to go hiking through the desert all day, I really don't think I can do it properly. But I can't not agree to doing it. And at the same time, it's also an indication that my boss still thinks I am even halfway useful. It means finding lodgings for my birds, I have someone who will take care of the dogs, cats and house, doing all sorts of organisational things that are just going to end up being inadequately done. And most of all, it scares me that my failings are going to compromise the release of my troupe, and that they will probably end up dying in the desert because of me.

About the only thing that might save them is that at least one of the other group leaders is really capable, and will maybe help me enough to get them through the rehab. I hope so - I have enough bad things to account for already, without adding a whole bunch of cute, little dead creatures.

special song

...in my opinion. Paul Simon, from 1964. Best rendition of it is by South African folk singers Ian & Ritchie, in mid-60's. Only ever found one recording - the Wits University Folk Concert 1965, and about half the audience had bronchitis...


Who will love a little sparrow
Who's traveled far and cries for rest?
"Not I," said the Oak Tree
"I won't share my branches with no sparrow's nest
And my blanket of leaves won't warm her cold breast"

Who will love a little sparrow
And who will speak a kindly word?
"Not I," said the Swan
"The entire idea is utterly absurd
I'd be laughed at and scorned if the other swans heard."

Who will take pity in his heart
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
"Not I," said the Golden Wheat
"I would if I could but I cannot I know
I need all my grain to prosper and grow"

Who will love a little sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
"I will," said the Earth
"For all I've created returns unto me
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be"

Paul Simon 1964


- would be the perfect eulogy for me too, if could change sparrow to feral pigeon...the truly unloved bird is the one closest to my heart.