best thing about today...

...was getting the last appt with p-doc before he goes away for 10 days. I needed meds as well, but seeing him also grounds me in some way, stops me from going overboard. Weird appt though, in that he is normally not really into therapy, more of a medical doctor. He asks the standard Q's, as an opener, but after that it's usually 'how's t-doc?', as in 'have you seen her this week?'. Tonight though, he kind of pushed me to tell him what exactly was crap about the week, and when I eventually did, he gave a lot more feedback than he generally does on non-biological stuff. Strange, but I liked it. I admire him so much, that having him tell me what he thinks I should do is kinda nice. Less nice when he crapped on me for drinking too much, but then he did once tell me that no-one should drink more than half a beer every six months - any more than that is too much. And I drink way more, although I figure that a bottle in 5 nights is not only a lot less than I was drinking before him, but also within the range of 'normal'.

The (have to have at least one) funny bit was when he asked what I'd brought him - a prelude to most scripts - and I hauled out the Nardil bottle. He did a kind of double-take at getting anything, says 'whats this', looks at the bottle and says 'Nardil. Oh great, my birthday present', and it's so obvious that he's completely forgotten the whole devious bit from last week, so I reminded him that he'd conned me into giving them to him based on having someone who needed them. 'Oh I do!', he says, and then gets the very confused look, and says 'I know it was someone I saw today....but who?'. I think the rule is that he will remember forever the things I'd rather he forgot, and vice verse.

I guess not killing any of my little birds also ranks up there with good things.

On the downside though, my team leader - and good friend - phoned me at 12h10, to tell me that I was supposed to be at the office for a 12h00 meeting. Subject : my performance appraisal. Bummer! I had totally forgotten...after boss had shifted it twice, so at least I had a bit of a let-out. And he would have had to leave after about 15 mins anyway, for another unplanned meeting in the centre of town - at least 35 mins away. Sometimes it's not so good not having my diary synced to the work server.

And now, given that my 17h30 appt with p-doc only happened about 18h30, and we talked (well, he did, at least. He still gave me a hard time as well about not being talkative. Doesn't believe me that most people think I talk too much. But then, I don't fake it with him, which is kind of normal opmode for me with almost everyone except him and t-doc) a lot, so only left there at almost 19h30......I'm cold and tired, and it's late. Bed seems like a good option. I slept so badly last night, awake at least 5 times that I remember. More that I don't. At the time, I'm awake for long enough to know that I am, but not long enough to get up or smoke. By the morning those mostly blur together. The countable ones are longer and distinct, and normally involve getting up either to drink water (has to be cold, from the tap), pee because of all the water I've drunk, and smoke. And wait for the cats to rearrange themselves on me afterwards....good thing I really love them, damn furballs!

around town. and again. and again.

- the circuitous path being a result of heading from one side of town to the other to fetch pigeons, heading back again for another one, etc.... Current brood consists of baby doveling, 5 baby pigeons, 1 adult dove with a broken wing, 1 fledgling dove and a fledgling Rock pigeon. Will try to take all but the babies to the centre tomorrow - after I've picked up another one in the morning....

So apart from seeing t-doc, didn't do much else. Went to the centre to collect a pigeon, and as I arrived, talking to a vet on the cellphone, one of the senior volunteers came running. She stood by the car looking as if she was jumping from one foot to the other mentally. When I eventually got off the phone, she tells me that bosslady is out at a vet with an injured buck, and there are meerkats escaped - that got me hopping too. Towel and net, no shoes available so flip-flops it is, and off we go. I caught two of the four, and then got them back into the cage where the rest were by now really aggro. And then, chicken that I am, I looked at the tunnel that needed to be blocked from within the cage, looked at my vulnerable toes - and sent a newer, braver volunteer who'd already been bitten twice by the one she was bunging back. Working on the theory that she already needed an anti-tetanus shot anyway. Nothing like a bit of nasty little mammal-chasing to get the adrenalin pumping for the day.

DB sent an sms yesterday, saying she wanted to return 2 CDs that I'd lent her, and that she'd made something that she wanted to give me. Refrained from sending the 1st two replies that came to mind, namely to toss the CDs (they are compilations that I burnt to use in the car), and to ask whether whatever she had made contained arsenic or not. Ended up not replying. She sent another this morning while I was with t-doc asking whether I'd received her msg yesterday and saying she really wanted to give me whatever she has made whenever I see p-doc. Resisted the immediate thought to tell her to bin that too, and ended up not saying anything. No point in being nasty. Won't help anything. Won't make the things she said on Sunday go away - guess it won't take away the things I retaliated with either - and it won't change anything. I know that eventually I will think of her, think about the nicer side of things. At the moment though, when my phone beeps to signal a message, I flinch, and look at it reluctantly. Kind of waiting for the next shot to be fired. And as evidenced 3 days out of 4 since Sunday, I am still dumb enough to read them anyway.

Yawning lots, and have an early morning bird pickup, so to bed I guess.

what a highly constructive day

OK, so I fed baby doveling every hour roughly, and the four screaming pigeon babies every three hours. Apart from that I.....umm, I did what all day? Umm. Virtually nothing. Started an oxtail stew cooking for tomorrow night - about 20 mins. Scanned in 5 cards, changed sizes and printed them out again to use as CD covers - hours and hours (must have been). Cut one CD, ran out of disks because other 4 all got errors. Note to the universe - don't buy Sony recordable CDs ever again. Even on slowest most error-free speed, they all bombed. Have never had a problem with TDK. Read fave blogs, read Cybershrink and Cybervet postings for the day - must also have been hours. Updated med calendar for Friday - a spreadsheet that shows what meds I'm taking, how many days I have on hand, how many days I have repeats for at the pharmacy. Currently I'm taking 6 meds at 4 times, for a total of 12 lots for the day. And every single one of them runs out on a different day. And on 4 of the meds, we've changed dose at least 3 times. No wonder the pharmacist gets confused. And I use a spreadsheet to keep track, and recount pills often.

Feeling guilty about meds, because at the same time as I took 120 Nardil out of my collection to give to p-doc on Friday, I weaseled 9 15mg midazolam - benzo - tabs and one or two Inderal, Remeron, Pexola/Mirapex and Neurontin. All except the midazolam are tail ends, where I don't have enough for another dose - the midazolam is a deliberate squirrel. Which is why I feel guilty. I whine about not sleeping if I don't have a sedative, I whine about waking up 4 to 6 times a night, I whine about too-vivid nightmares - all of which is true, and all of which I've had for about the length of this down. What isn't is that the previous med wasn't working (just about all of them seem to have the same limited effect), and he's forgotten that I have 20 Stilnox/Ambien and 46 Zopimed/Imovane from previous scripts anyway. So he gave me two weeks of the benzo at 30mg, of which I have stashed 15 tabs. The sedatives are the only ones I don't take as prescribed, normally only taking half the dose. In this case 15mg is the top end of the range anyway. Even if I take 30mg (along with the Remeron, Neurontin and Inderal...Pexola 3rd dose is at 16h00), I still have the same sleep profile. It's not enough to stop me from saving them, but it does make me feel guilty. I've given him the entire collection twice so far. And shit - within a week I start it again. Only thing I don't hand over are the Zofran, for severe nausea. Only have 4, but am holding those just in case it ever gets to using the collection. Even though CO poisoning would be the primary method. Know how, know where, keep hoping I never find out when.

Cannot believe that I've been awake for about 14 hours, and can only account for about 6 of them, and most of that can't be classified as constructive anyway. At least though, work isn't expecting anything from me this week. And have to be moving early tomorrow for t-doc appointment, so hopefully will do some of things that I should have done today. So guess I should head for bed now.

trying to think of good things for the day...

...to stop me thinking about DB, the fact that I have gotten through a somewhat large amount of vodka, that rehab boss was very cross with me, DB....So :

1. Saw t-doc today, who reckons even allowing for her being partisan in her opinion, she still thinks that DB was unnecessarily vicious without provocation. Even though I got vicious too, after that. And also found the whole 'none of this is true' bit really weird.
2. Rehab boss has now said that feral pigeons will all be seen in the clinic first, tested for trich, and breaks and things will be assessed by her before I get called for them. And euthanased if she makes that call. Which is good, because it means that it will all be open and aboveboard. And she's happy that they be headed off before they get to the clinic, but if they come onto the property - as yesterday's pair did - they will also come into the clinic. Seeing as she can tell when I'm hiding something even if I don't feel at all guilty (and I don't feel the least guilty about saving pigeons, even if the world has enough), I much prefer it this way.
3. I signed off my timesheet at 272 hours for last month. And until various other people do things, I have just about no work. Which means I will probably do just about zero this week. Think I need a break anyway.
4. P-doc's receptionist phoned, and I have appt for Friday, before he goes away.
5. All my babies are alive, and little dove almost has eyes! Well, working ones at least, I know they have been there all along, just not accessible to the outside world.
6. Linked to a blog by a Canadian lady, Aqua, who apart from sounding uncannily the way I feel often, also has about the same list of bad habits, and writes really well.
7. Got to laugh at something - GG's latest post over at Red, Red Whine. Read it!
8. I have drunk an awesome amount of vodka. I know it's not a good idea, and I'm going to have to justify it to p-doc who will be totally unamused, but for the moment it works. I am blurred, I don't hurt, I haven't given in to the temptation to use the blades, and I'm going to take meds and sleep. Probably snore like an irate volcano too, but the cats don't normally complain - a warm body to lie all over seems to count more to them than silence in bed.
9. Oh, and I finally finished James Frey's 'a million little pieces' in spite of having been totally annoyed with him from about page 10. And that was before I found out that he'd lied about most of it anyway. Somehow I don't think I'll bother with the second one though.

from ugg to ugly....

....with a repeat of part of yesterday's afternoon. Namely, the part where I wanted a nap, was limited again to less than an hour at a time in order to feed baby dove, and ten minutes after I slept, the sms from Duckbuddy bit started again. This time I responded, to say that I was trying to sleep and was turning phone off. Which she knows I can't do, because of work. Got a nasty one back, ignored it for two hours, and then sent one saying timeout. Enough of friendship. Enough of nagging and whining. But ended off with a polite enjoy your life. Got back a blistering nasty referring to stuck pigs as more exciting company, and bringing in p-doc - as in only thing I have in my life is obsession with him. Which really got me annoyed, and after that it got really ugly. Until - out of the blue - after 3 more truly vicious msgs from her, I get the all-innocent 'Leave me alone. None of this is true. If you don't stop harassing me...'. Umm - harassment would imply that I was the only person sending msgs, leave me alone would imply the same (ignoring the fact that I'd already told her to piss off and stop sms-ing), none of this is true - nope, 50% is my opinion, 50% is what she herself has told me numerous times. Truth hurts, I guess. Both ways. I'm not denying most of it though - yes, I adore p-doc (but admiring his butt is as far as it goes), yes, I am way down and have been for longer than I've known her (but wallowing in a cesspool of terminal self-pity, while she is working at getting better? Don't think so..maybe the wallowing bit. But her working at anything? Not even in her dreams!), being a bolshie cow (almost definitely), etc etc. Just what I needed to make a crappy weekend even better.

Cool bananas, as my goose-catching buddy is known to say. The friendship has been adding stress since it was revived (at her instigation) after it was killed (at her instigation)....and with work creating even more, I've been battling with DB for the last month. It's just constant complaints about how anxious she is, how tense she is, how miserable she is - albeit she keeps asking how I am, what I'm doing, when I'm seeing p-doc or t-doc, every last detail of my appts with them. The last bit is mostly something I don't share. I don't want to. Will tell her med changes, and maybe one or two funny bits, but not much more. I don't need details of hers either, or of the rest of her weird behaviour. In between meeting for coffee bits, I often find myself almost hating her. Even more than me (and I berate myself for this often enough), she has just about everything. Young, beautiful, skinny, married to good looking, rich, hard working young excutive HB who insists that she doesn't have to work (not that she could hold any kind of a job for more than a day or two before weirdness would become obvious), small kid (who is in daycare for mornings and with full time maid in afternoons). But the downside is that she varies from severe social phobias all the way into full-on psychosis. HB, on 7th anniversary, when she asked him if he thought marriage was good, responded 'its OK'. Daughter is way behind developmentally and is showing all the signs of incipient OCD and social affective disorder - DB has said many things in the past about things that worry her about daughter's behaviour, but guess I'd be slaughtered if I repeated them back to her. Or I'd just be told 'none of it is true'. Well, if it isn't then why the f**k did you lie about it in the first place?

And yet, when I see her, even with all the complaints, I somehow like her all over again. She's smart and funny. And sweet, and oh so vulnerable.

Just can't handle the constant demands though - I grew up in an age where if you want to talk to someone, you meet them, or phone them, and you have a conversation. And after that you continue your life. Not this 20 or 30 (think the worst one was 37) text messages a day, so that there is constant interruption of whatever you're doing. I've been keeping it down since the reinstatement of friendship from her, by not responding immediately, which limits it to around 10 a day. But it's intrusive - even if, according to her I don't have a life anyway other than my 'obsession'.

This morning, as I should have expected but didn't, there was a horribly sad apology, saying she wishes she could take back everything she said, that she wishes it hadn't happened and she's sorry for hurting my feelings. I'm sorry too, Duck. I would have rather it didn't get as ugly as it did, and I didn't start it off like that. But it won't go away just because she is sorry, and even though I was equally vicious and regret that immensely, a lot of what she said is going to fester away for a long time still. Which I really don't need. At least I can talk to t-doc about it tomorrow, maybe pull some of the thorns....probably just cry about it. Have been crying most of today already. Guess the bit about no-one can hurt you like the ones you love is very true....

ugg day

starting off with having to leave the house before 08h00. On a Saturday. OK, I would have been up at about the same time to feed littlest bird, the 5 day old dove, but would have been able to veg into wakefulness at a more weekend-ish pace. And, of course, when I got to burns-charity buddy, nothing was anywhere near ready. It hadn't even been sorted yet. And then it was out to the deepest depths of a township known for it's poor safety and violence, and the number of hijackings in the area, to deliver blankets to 14 families whose shacks had burned down in a fire caused by someone leaving a stove on and going out. Delivering aid was good, but I can't help feeling that it is so frustrating to see people wilfully building unsafe structures to house themselves when our glorious government doesn't bother, and then having 3 or 4 kids apiece. Not that I generally have much good to say about our government, but in this case, I can see the problem they face. If they can't keep their promises of '94 to the then-population, how on earth can they ever catch up to a population that's in total explosion? Unfortunately, providing a "children's grant" that nowhere near covers what should be spent on a kid, has served only to create a whole child-popping industry, where if you have a few and then don't spend the grant money on clothing, feeding and schooling them, you have enough money to stay at home and still visit the local shebeen for a few beers every night. And then the government is in dwang for not being able to keep up with building classrooms, hospitals and houses for all. It's a lose-lose situation, made even worse by the number of families where one or both parents die of AIDS - and seeing as they won't use condoms for saving their own lives, contraception is even more irrelevant - leaving children of 8 or 10 to bring up a range of siblings from babies on.

And then this whole expanded population ends up in a situation where one person's carelessness destroys a dozen makeshift homes because they are built illegally in someone else's backyard - all adjoining, reached by a road where a fire engine couldn't fit, and a pathway between structures where even two skinny people can't pass each other without becoming very close friends....

Followed by handyman - whose planned workday had necessitated the earliness of the delivery mission - phoning to tell me he hadn't brought any of the tools needed to do any of the jobs planned. Now seeing as he had the list, and was quite able to tell me how much he wanted to be paid for the jobs on it, he can't tell me that he didn't know what was involved. Or what would be needed to do it. And to add to my ire, he then told my housekeeper that he was completely finished in the bathroom. Umm...no. I don't regard having underneath half the bath full of rubble and not closed in, taps sticking out of bare concrete, and a huge chunk of old lintel sticking out of the wall as completely finished. When/if he appears next weekend, I think it is time for a serious chat with young Gil about what is needed if he thinks he can run his own business, and that based on his performance over the last few weeks I can't recommend him to other people, especially not my friends.

After which the electricity went off. And stayed off from 13h30 till after 18h30. I can manage being caffeine-deprived and reading by candlelight, but I have an inch long doveling who almost died as I watched - baby birds need to be kept warm, and have a higher body temperature than we do, and without power none of my heating methods are usable for a small bird. I was almost ready to start phoning around for someone to take him and the two pigeons of about 9 days who were also chilling down, when I came up with a temporary method which entailed running the hot water till it reached max temp, and then surrounding the babies with small plastic containers of hot water, and changing them every 40 mins or so. TG the power came on before the geyser got too cold to do that, and birdlings were all still alive - won't know until the morning whether the cold impacted their body functions too much or not.

Couldn't have the afternoon nap I wanted because of the water changes, so was trying to manage little power-naps. Every single one of which was interrupted by a whining text message from DB because she was bored - her hubby was playing golf, and she is incapable of amusing herself for even half an hour. Bit my fingers to stop myself from rude replies like read a fricking book, or watch videos with your kid, but just do something that doesn't involve nagging me!

Guess it's clear that the meds haven't transformed my mood yet...

post between yawns...

....past my bedtime anyway, but for some reason I've been yawning all day. Maybe because yet again, the slow and leisurely start to my day that I've gotten to need was interrrupted. This time, to go and assess a rabbit catch. Yep, those wild and vicious feral bunnies are at it again. This lot have established residence in a stormwater drain, and produced 7 cute and fluffy offspring. And a whole bunch of people are really worried about what will happen when we start getting spring rains, as well as the probability of them getting run over when they sit in the road sunning themselves, or being turned into rabbit pie by vagrants who hang out in the park across the road. Conned cat-buddy into meeting me there this afternoon just before dusk to have a go at catching them. Only definite answer is that rabbit pie is unlikely - these babies know very well that safety is at least 6 ft into the pipes, and make themselves very scarce very fast. The rest of it they'll have to take their chances on. Best part was when cat-buddy started describing what we must look like - two fat middle-aged ladies lying in the road with their heads stuck into a drain, and how she could just picture the cartoon of us with a tyre track across all 4 of our legs. And when I phoned rehab boss to tell her of the notable lack of success, she started snickering as she told me that we had obviously failed because we weren't making proper carrotty-noises (which cat-buddy then told me was something she'd told boss earlier, that came from a Noddy book in her childhood, and which had had boss in convulsions for most of the afternoon).

After the morning's bunny-recon mission, it was out to the cat and dog welfare group with the lady who lives in the informal settlement up the road whose cat got me involved in the animals there when he was hurt over Easter. She wants to learn more, so that she can serve as a central contact point between the welfare group and the residents. So I took her through for a lesson in basic handling and initial assessment, which was really interesting for me too. And then back to not catch bunnies. After which cat-buddy and I convinced each other that going for a quick meal together was a good idea. It was, apart from the quick bit.

And to round off the evening, a phone-call from burns victim charity ex-neighbour, to tell me that there was a bad fire in one of the township areas, and to twist my arm into transporting her there tomorrow early with a load of blankets and other aid for the people who lost their homes. Which then means racing home again, because Gil the handyman will be here tomorrow, and I didn't get to buying the kitchen cupboards I was supposed to have bought this afternoon.

Shit....sometimes I remember how much I used to accomplish before I started feeling so down. And marvel that I regard a day in which I do (adding it all up except for supper) about 4 hours of stuff as being completely full and chaotic. I used to do a full shift at the rehab centre and still accomplish more than I do now. And still fit in some other work and going out. I want that back, soon. P-doc yesterday reckoned that we give current mix another week at different dosages, and then move on to plan # can't even remember what number this would be, if I was counting. His major achievement for the session though was conning me into giving up the unopened bottle of Nardil, which is 120 of the 274 - when I realised that he'd finally come up with a reason to give them to him that I couldn't ignore, I told him he was way too devious. Yes, he said happily, he's the most devious person I'll ever meet, but it's taken him years of practice and he only does it to achieve good things. Couldn't argue that either, so I guess next week he gets the bottle. Told him as well that he's the biggest giveaway as to whether something is worth keeping in the collection - the more he wants it handed over, the more likely it is to hurt, and the less likely he is to get it. On the other hand, if he doesn't nag, he's not going to get it either.
To bed, while it's still today.....

and again.....

...still sore, tired and stressed. At least I managed to put in a solid 9 hours or work, in spite of my satellite conn giving me glorious speeds of 3K on upload and (wow!) a whole 37K on download for most of the day. And having phoned their help desk on Monday to complain of similar bad performance...it's not worth even trying that route. Thick as pigshit? Nope, much much worse. It was like one of those jokes about support desk calls, only instead of the support desk dude having to be really patient with the user, it was the other way round. He had his list of questions, and oh boy, he was going to ask them all regardless of the answers I gave.

But managed to get a couple of things accomplished, anyway. No garden labour again, I am just too sore. After 3 days off, am beginning to think that maybe it's not all
self-induced by hard digging and hard typing. Am wondering whether some of it might be meds-related. I'll have to remember to ask p-doc tomorrow after I hobble down his long passage and yelp when I sit down.

One of the things I really dislike about his rooms is the long passage from the reception to his office. It's probably about 40ft or so, but he always waves patients ahead of him, so that he follows you all the way. And, thanks to DB, who pointed out that that's a long walk with nothing for him to look at except the patients fat ass wobbling ahead, I am so self-conscious about it! Not, of course, that I do anything different on the rare occasions where I take so long picking up birds that he goes ahead. Hell no, seeing as I think he has a pretty cute butt anyway, I take full advantage. Even though I know that I will automatically then blush when I sit down and look him in the face. Loser....

sore, tired, stressed...

- kind of a frustrating day. I took yesterday as garden timeout, because I hurt so much. And only spent 8 hours working at the PC. So today was supposed to include a good bit of garden labour and IT labour - I managed neither. This morning got interrupted by a call while still in the bath to go catch a genet. By the time that was done, I needed to go through to the rehab centre to drop him/her off, and then to see t-doc. Miserable appointment - all I wanted to do was just cry on her shoulder, but knew if I even started there was no ways I'd stop...just too low to go there at all. And then coffee with Duckbuddy. Which she insisted had to include a second cup, even though I really didn't want to - not because I didn't want to spend time with her, but because of timing. So ended up going straight into rush hour, and taking about 75 mins to get home. Feed cats, feed dogs, have a large drink. Give up on probability of anything constructive for work, and on gardening because it was already getting dark. Have another large drink, and cruise the net for nothing in particular.

I'd kick my butt for wasting an entire day on not having fun, not getting a physical workout and not doing any paid work either - but my knees hurt too much to get my foot that high, and my hands, shoulders and (I discovered today when DB and I were joking and I tried to flex biceps....)arms all hurt too much to find a way of getting my butt down to foor level!

So for today, signing off as an aching all ways loser....sleep well, y'all.

oh, my aching thumbs.....

....although it's my own fault, I guess. I knew I should have done typing at school instead of biology! Being a 4-finger and 2 thumbs typist is OK most of the time, but after a humongous number of 70-odd hour work-weeks, almost all of which is spent at the keyboard, my hands have now reached 'enough' status. My wrists, biceps and knees ache from digging in the garden and/or carrying rocks around for between 30 mins and two hours almost every day. My shoulders are a combination ache, from working and gardening. My thumbs though, are entirely due to too much keyboard time. Told my boss I was going to claim for whatever kind of massage included thumbs, but then told him as well that on second thoughts I couldn't bear for anyone else to even touch them... Even carrying four kitty-dinners through from the kitchen needed extra thought so as to hold the bowls without involving the thumbs. My most erotic fantasies now involve a massage before anything else - yeah, right. Not that anything else is that likely either.

I am sore, and tired, and should have a bath before bed 'cos I'm kind of sweaty from this evenings garden workout - how is this for practical? I managed to perfect the split today so that I spent two hours carrying rocks and paving stones from the front to the back garden, placing them all, and even doing some other small jobs, all at the same time as I worked. Just a question of leaving all the biggest systems re-compiles for the same time, so that while I my keyboard was locked running them, I could leap up and out and do 15 mins outside, and be back to catch the results, cut and paste them into reports, and start the next one running. Technically, they could be done in batch - if only someone could tell me the f-ing format for the commands! Can't log a call for it, because part of the motivation for the upgrades is that the product is about 6 years out of support. And when the office moved, no-one is too sure of where my manuals went. They definitely got packed, but haven't been seen since. So until they are found, and I know the right sequence for about 30 alternating 'x's and commas, I can only run them online. Tried about 15 different combo's in batch against a small system, but couldn't find the magic one.

It amazes me that work both makes me omnipotent and has me throwing up almost every day - sometimes both the same day. Goes back to my Jon-days...1992/93, when I perfected the facade. Not that management then or now know about the puking bits. It worked a lot better then, being a 27-year old, 58-kg toned and muscled, super-fit wearer of short suits, high heels and make-up. But even now, I have enough experience, and enough history to prove me right, and to get away with it. And in some ways, the fact that I am the only person in the office who gets away with wearing nothing but denims, t-shirts and slip-slops (and no make-up at all) - oh yeah, and carrying little birds into meetings, and stopping halfway to feed them - somehow reiterates the fact that I must be good at this. Otherwise they wouldn't tolerate me. Often, I wonder why they do.

Actually, I know why. They tried really hard, twice, to find someone to support my major client on an unpopular mainframe database, for a limited number of hours most months, with a limited future, at a fairly cheap rate. There are permanent people available, there are very expensive, highly skilled short-term people available, but there's no-one as flexible and as cheap as me, there's no-one who can provide this support as well as being backup/coverage on two other m/f database products across 6 other clients, there's no-one alive who actually wants my current job. The first time, the replacement stuffed up, and the client insisted that they see if I'd come back. The second time, they managed to get a higher-paid, much more knowledgeable guy in for this project, but he has set limits on what he does, and will do - which is why they are now paying him for half the upgrade, and me as well for vastly more hours. And this for a project I really tried not to be involved in... I am such a loser. Don't want to do the other coverage either. But I can't explain to my current boss why not - shit, if he had any idea of my emotional instability, I don't think I'd even touch ground on the way out........

wicked duck!

- met DuckBuddy for coffee....she begged, nagged and twisted rubber arms till it turned into a glass of wine. Then she did the same again, because she only had half an hour before having to be at home - until I went to see her new house. And split a bottle of wine with her. Which - entirely my fault - was followed up with another two glasses when I came home. And no work. And I can't handle wine anyway - numerous double vodkas do way less damage than one glass of wine. Something to do with sulphur and anti-oxidants and colourants....even the best of the best will nail me.

And then , adding insult to injury, she msg'd me to say she was listening to Tracy Chapman, so I did the same. Sore head, sore heart, mood to slit wrists by.

T-doc is away for the week after p-doc, and then again for a week at the end of Sept. She said today though that she will be specifically seeing me - and I guess a few others - in the interim. Phew. No long, long month.

What was strangely unsettling though was that she said she has another patient seeing my ex p-doc. And patient phoned her in a total state because she'd called his rooms to make an appointment - only they weren't his rooms anymore. He's gone. So t-doc phoned, didn't get any more detail except that he has left the country, presumably with practice/life partner, cos some doc no-one knows is taking over practice, and moving it halfway across town. No-one is saying where they went, but rumour has it he had a couple more bypass ops - and health is what was given as the reason why he wasn't emigrating to the Netherlands, a few months ago. Part of me wants to say yeah, cool, it wasn't something I did wrong that made him act so horribly after I called him. Most of me though, just feels sad. T-doc said she still has a number of patients seeing him, and none of them heard a word from him about going. And that, in similar circumstances, she has always had a phonecall, or an email, if not a formal notification of the departure. Weird, really weird.

sleepy day..

...reduced remeron or not, (and upped pex and neurontin too), today was soooo sluggish. Even my supposed-to-be-fast VPN to work was almost one line download at a time. So had a bath-nap, worked for a while, had an afternoon nap while I left jobs running, and now, after having semi-sane cat buddy over for supper, am about to sleep again. Mostly due to the very rich oxtail stew that we've been talking about for 3 weeks as the ideal winter supper. Finally made it yesterday, and it's been brewing away all day.....about 9 million calories per serving, of which at least 70% are pure fat - it's a tossup whether I get sick before bed, or have to leap up in an hour or two. Both from the richness, and because I feel guilty about not having done enough work this week.

One of the reasons for changing the pexola times and quantities was the puking thing. P-doc is so much the kind of guy who eats stress and thrives that when I told him last week that I'd been throwing up almost every day since I got hectically involved in the upgrade project, he gave me this really bewildered look. It is a stress thing - hey, you should see me and my Blonde workbuddy over actual upgrade implementation weekends. We literally take it in turns to go throw up out of nervousness. The best thing that happened when we worked together was that she married a very funny, very possessive guy with adult ADHD symptoms. Possessiveness meant that he couldn't bear to not see her over weekends so came with her to work whenever possible, the ADHD kept us distracted, and the funniness meant we relaxed a bit. P-doc found that hard to comprehend - that I could do a job that literally made me sick. Before I dropped out to go farming, I threw up at least twice a day for 18 months. I know IT professionals who have done that for 20 years - it's only when they reach management levels that it seems to stop. Go figure....there's more feeling of responsibility as a peon than when you are really in charge.

At least, one way or another, this can't carry on beyond the end of October - client has a change freeze over the year-end peak trading period, so if it hasn't happened by then, it won't happen until next Feb. Only 12 weeks of being sick almost every day. I'm drinking a stupendous amount less, eating at least once a day (aiming for twice, sometimes even three times) and eating healthy stuff - tonight excepted - and even getting some exercise in the garden. And I have knots in my stomach, nightmares, can't sleep properly at night but could nap out all day.....didn't feel this crap physically when I was casing 4 or 5 bottles of vodka a week! P-doc still mutters every week about excess, and that he's sure 17 doubles (once, only once!) would actually kill him.

up and down, down and up...

...with the meds, that is. I just get the straight down all the way bit. Last week we dropped the Pexola by 0.25mg, and upped the Remeron to (would be) 90mg from 60mg.
Except at 75mg, I still sleep badly at night, but fall asleep in the bath and could sleep all afternoon too if I allowed it.

This week, we go from 0.25mg Pex bid to 0.5mg am, and 0.25mg at 16h00, with that going to 0.5mg after 5 days. Drop the Remeron back to 60mg. Up the Neurontin, which I've got up to 300mg on to 800mg asap. Change sleeping tabs to Dormicum. Lendormin did zip - only interesting thing about it as that it's widely used for anorexic cattle. Nope. No idea why. And keep the Inderal at 20mg tid, and the NAC at 500mg tid.

Chemist is going to love this one - I have 2 weeks each of Inderal and Pexola not yet dispensed, but the Pex is at a different dose from the one I'm now taking. I have a new script for two weeks of Inderal (same), Remeron (less), Neurontin (double) and Dormicum (new), and for 15 days of Pexola split into 0.75mg for 5 days and 1mg for 10 days. Plus I have varying quantities left of each anyway.

I'm back to using a spreadsheet to calculate what I need to take when, what stock I have, whether I have any not dispensed at the chemist - 12 med columns, 3 colours, 9 different dates that I run out on...

If I wasn't a psych patient already, working it out would be enough to make me one. Oh, and somewhere in the middle of most of the dates, he goes away for a week, so I need to work out before then what script I need to cover me for everything from 23/8 - 06/9, given that he doesn't trust me with huge quantities (but I think he's lost track himself), that it's quite likely to change next week anyway and again the week after....

Feeling insecure about him going away. And somewhere around then t-doc gets married, so will also be away. Haven't even asked her about dates yet - even the thought of them maybe both being away simultaneously terrifies me. Been reading an interesting book that as a sideline covers quite a lot of the initial theories on transference. Mostly I don't feel that they apply - until I think about this. Except that then there's also the whole 'am I borderline or partially so' question - mostly not, in my opinion, but I do have some of the markers some of the time. And the fear of abandonment one sticks it's head up right here. Ah hell - all true Gemini's are both bipolar and borderline, I think. And probably a bit schizo as well.

Meds about two hours ago, and I'm starting to feel that maybe I could sleep now. Adios all. Although all seems to be confined at the moment to one lonely reader from somewhere in the top half of SA. So night-night, solitary reader...

just don't know anymore

...maybe it's just running out of energy, maybe it's the med change, maybe it's getting wasted last week on weds and fri, maybe it's PMT, maybe it's the solar calendar. Or the lunar one. Or the gregorian or julian or octavian calendars.

Maybe it's just being a born loser.

Maybe it's payback for every bad thing I have ever done.

Maybe it's that I've outlived any usefulness I've ever had.

Maybe it's just having been here too long, too alone, too dark.

Too much. Too scared. Too lost. Too sore.

And when it gets down to the line, too chickenshit....

What if I'm wrong? If there's a hell I think I might be there already. Heavenly life, if only I didn't have to be here with myself....

What if I'm right? And this is all there ever will be?

Wish there were answers to all the stupid questions.

good intention, but oh what a follow-thru....

my favourite local live music venue has me on their sms gig-guide list. So just after seeing p-doc on thu, they sent me a msg saying my fave local band was playing on friday night. Impulsively, I booked.

Safe to say no-one there has forgotten me, although I haven't been there for over a year. I'm just not sure it's that good a thing, to be remembered at a pub kind of place. The car guard hugged me, the manager hugged me, 3 of the waiters hugged me. By the time I got to my table there was already a drink there. A double,and before that one was 3/4 gone, the next one arrived. The band was excellent, I got nicely blurred, but not too trashed. Got to hear their new song all the way through for the first time. Got to cry in public listening to it. What fun.

It's just I've lost the ability to go out and have a good time on my own. It's not that there is anyone I could take with me either. Wish there was, wish there was someone to come home with. Really wish there was someone to hold at night. Yeah, right. Like anyone with half a brain would put up with a miserable fat loser. Stupidest thing is that it's entirely my own fault. All my life, I've lived in such a way as to put off the only kind of man who I'd be able to live with. Hard to explain that it's only because I don't have one in my life that I do things for myself, on my own. That I'd drop the pretence of self-sufficiency in an instant if I didn't have to fake it just to keep going.

Guess this is what they mean by older and wiser. Not that it helps - being able to see what you should have done twenty years ago, but didn't is just a way to hurt yourself even more. What you could have had, who you could have been. If only. Yeah, if only.....

work hard, play hard....

...which for me means other than a brief foray to the bank (I got paid, TG TG TG!) and the chemist, spend most of the day at my desk doing boring but necessary stuff for the upgrades, cause a moderate amount of kak while I do that. Outside at 15h30, dig my hole some more - which means use pick, shovel, trowel and repeat - until it was deep enough to plant out the potted palm it was meant for. Unpot palm, discover it has spiky bits, get bitten by them lots, eventually just cut pot off with clippers. Put compost in hole, go to get another bag from behind house, come back to discover collie dog eating compost like he'd never been fed before. Put dog-doo in with plant and more compost - some urban legend says that burying their own turds in holes stops them excavating to explore - buried plant deep enough that anyone who tries to eat it or dig it is going to get spiky bits in their nose. Yeah, like that would really deter the dog who has been waiting in vain to eat a cat for five and a half years. Can only hope that it was his turd that I planted, not one of the others that he then feels obligated to uproot. (I cheated, I put in about 6 of different colour, size and shape - in the hopes that I'd include one from everybody!!)

And then mad cat-buddy called - her invoice for the past month's work had just been accepted without quibble, negotiation or outright refusal, and in about 10 days she will get an income of more than she has ever earned in a month before. Same as I did.
She wanted to celebrate though, by going out for fish and chips. I didn't. I wanted to stay at home and die. I owe her one though, for being around when I need to celebrate something, so went out for f&c - and in my case a couple of double vodkas.

Home early, worked lots more, pushed my luck by asking the client IT manager who scares the shit out of almost everyone I work with - except me, cos he's always been nice to me, possibly because he has a similar quick and evil sense of humour, which most people find offensive, but which had me laughing out loud the first time I was exposed to it - for a 'client appraisal'. Either he sends a note to 10 levels up saying tell the upstart cow to piss off, or he gives it to me. If he does it, and its only two pages of select 1 to 4 where 1 is dead and 4 is superman type Q's, about 14 in all......my ass is toast - with beluga caviar! When the topic was mentioned briefly a couple of months ago, and I said that the only client employee I knew - everyone else works for outsourcing agencies - was H and I'd have to get it from him, my boss nearly choked. Just the idea of me mailing this hugely bad-tempered very senior customer to ask him for a favour was enough to make my boss, who came off worst in all their dealings in his previous job, feel weak. Hey, if nothing else, he was the one who ordered my company to hire me as the one and only DBA for their m/f work on his site - but that was about 2.5 years ago, and since then he hasn't spoken to me at all, mostly because my side of things has been problem free. Hope he remembers that night as vividly as I do....

And now, about 6 double vodka's down, and with a p-doc appt tomorrow, guess I should go to bed. It won't have any effect on anything except my BP, but I don't lie to him, so will admit it anyway. What can I say. It's been slow and steadyish, so I'm basically sober, but just a tad less wired. I didn't even throw up tonight, even after eating a whole supper. That's more than the meds do. Given that my personal rules say that after even sniffing an old cork, there's no SI or suicidality allowed anyway, even if it's a downer, it isn't hurting me more than being sober does. Way less so, I figure. Been quite a while since I felt like I didn't want more than anything to just....duck out of here. I'd still like to, it would be so sweet to just be gone, but it doesn't have the imperative drive that every sober night for the last two years (minus 6 weeks and 4 days for good moods) has had. And p-doc wonders why alcohol has so much appeal. How does one explain that even though it might be bad stuff overall, sometimes it's just so nice to not want to die?

rewind...play yesterday over again...

...cos today was just as bad. Spoke to most of the people who I couldn't get hold of yesterday, but not much satisfying in it. Will have to go to the bank tomorrow and see how deep in the mud I am, seeing as I'll probably only get paid on Thu or Fri. Good bit though is that my after-tax income is roughly twice what I ever earned working fulltime, and about 3.5 times my normal salary since. So, rose quartz will be available for me to put in garden, will be able to redo kitchen for housekeeper, as well as having given her a double check and another year of pension contributions, seeing as she started working part-time for me 10 years ago sometime in July. And I can afford vet bills for what is rapidly becoming my most expensive animal/kg - my rescue boy. He now weighs 14.15 kg - up from 12.3 when he came home with me. But half my debit orders will probably have bounced by the time I get this huge sum. Most of problem was that asshole boss only sent in timesheet yesterday, I think - more than a week late. He muttered very indistinctly about when he sent it off.

More fighting over who should be doing the work I'm asking to have done, and mud slinging and office politics. All in all, just such fun. Ex-boss once told me that the reason he didn't take me back as a contractor was because I was leaving for good cause, and he knew that if I contracted I'd be knee deep in it again. I've managed to avoid it until the last four months, and now I'm just getting dragged in. Problem is I have always been a solo player - my databases are MY databases - and I have to either stay right out, or my arrogance takes over again, and we're right back at it. The arrogance is semi-justified because I'm a really good DBA, but it's let down by my huge personality defects. And now by the fact that I can't handle ongoing tension. I've been sick every night this week, seems like it doesn't matter what I do or don't eat or drink - the knot in my stomach just keeps tightening up until I puke. Trying to wait on taking meds until after that - trainspotting is so not my idea of fun.

Sent p-doc a mail just now, saying please could he think of something else for us to try before thurs, cos this lot ain't doing it. He almost never replies to mail, so not expecting an answer, but maybe he'll come up with some magic by the appt.

Times like this are when I most miss a relationship. Would be so, so good to curl up against someone, know that he would hold me and warm me, and sleep that way. Ha ha. Even if there was a man around, it would take eternity before I could trust him to be there after a night of me fighting dragons and snoring, not to mention the way my hair stands out oh so beautifully after a night of wriggling around. I sleep ugly, really ugly. Reflection of the rest of me, I guess.

Ah shit, bed, before the lure of the megastash and the vodka bottle gets too great. I am listening to the mixes I made of all my sad and beautiful songs that I made from my CDs after I loaded them to the PC. As a group, they're 'the last cd's: jcat mix #1 -4', and it's all songs that would be ok to just drift out to - some harsher than others, so there's something for just about however it ends up being. Tonight is mostly some local Afrikaans music, and now onto Neil Young, especially 'Star of Bethlehem' and 'Old Man'. Also a good idea to hit bed before I get to the 'Hello darkness my old friend' and 'Dance me to the end of love', and the chunk of Fairport Convention songs that are coming up. Alexandra Denny's voice is enough to make you cry at its sheer beauty...never mind when the songs are sad to begin with.

enough already

ok, think I've run out of energy - whether it was meds-induced or not. Still haven't worked that out. Maybe it was just making up for 4 months of solid sleep on the Nardil-and-others. Whatever it was though, it's gone.

I'm tired, I'm grumpy, I feel like I'm working my ass off doing other people's work, and all I get is crapped on about something else that I haven't gotten to yet. And my rescue dog has a long-term bone problem. And I didn't go to the bank today so I don't know if I got paid or not for last month, but I suspect from the mail I got from my "contract manager" that the answer is no. She conveniently went out straight after that, and didn't return calls. I don't even know if my boss got round to signing off on my timesheet, and guess what...he didn't return calls either.

Don't even think of telling me I should have gone and checked. I know I should have.
I saw t-doc, then I came home to take dog to the vet. Then I worked because I was worrying about dog. Then I stopped work because I am so pissed off with new development team manager and the snotty email he sent me. And then I had 3 glasses of wine with too much mince on toast for supper, so I feel really crap - drinking and this meds-combo doesn't mix at all, especially with rich food. And achieved nothing all evening except working myself into a total twist.

I hate this. I hate being bipolar. I hate being depressed. I hate being a total loser. Almost as much as I hate being a fat, ugly, boring, miserable total loser. Sometimes I want to stand up and scream - I got given so, so much in the way of advantages, way more than I could ever deserve. But to finish them off I got the mentally interesting bit that has compelled me to waste every single one of them.

In a reincarnation kind of way, I wonder whether the gifts that I am holding would go to other people if I die. I'd kill myself now if that were so. Except I guess that would mean some poor newborn loser would get the bipolar cherry along with their slice of life. Typical me - whichever way it goes it's a stuffup. And it's all my own fault too....

yaaaaaawwwwnnn

- long day, long week. Long month too - did my timesheet for July, which covered from June 15 - July 22, and it totalled at just over 230 hours. That's more than a month for most people, it's more than I average in about 4 months! And this current one is probably the same, particularly seeing that there are only two developers who know the system I have to upgrade. One is just way too busy on his current projects, the other transfers out from this client at the end of July, and couldn't give the proverbial continental.

And as of today, I told # 2 exactly where to get off. As in, he's transferring within the company, and if this client really wants him back, he won't have much option other than to quit. I'm doing 90% of the work the developers should be doing, because I just want this upgrade over and done with, and if it is going to happen this year, then there are severe time pressures now. If kicking his ass 10 levels up is what it takes, and if I am going to put in 13 - 16 hour days to do his work, then he will do the f-ing bits that I can't do for him.

I didn't want to take this on because of the pressure. If my manager hadn't changed in the meantime, I'd go to him and remind him of that - unfortunately, new one knows nothing of why I was reluctant. And I don't feel like telling him all about how much of a stuff-up I am. He'll work it out for himself soon enough anyway.

And apart from anything else, I am so strung-out at the mo, having changed meds completely after the Ket farce. If I was still on the Nardil I couldn't be doing these hours, because I'd be asleep for half of them. Current combo is Remeron 60mg, Pexola 0.75mg, Inderal 60mg and sundry sleeping pills. Irritability is sky high. Don't know if it's meds causing mood, or mood negating meds. But if I go by the textbooks, this might be my first ever hypomanic episode. If one can be hypomanic when the pressure to achieve is all external...I couldn't care less. Only reason I'm doing it is to get it over with.

Oh yeah, and so that I can do things to my garden. It's a major part of the dead list - as in, having something other than a dust bowl can add R100K to selling price, which justifies doing it. But rock and big plants are expensive, hence the need for income.

I just can't see this one ending nicely. It's kind of tighter and tighter in circles, until I implode. And that's coming way sooner than I need.

busy week in blogland....

...for everyone except me it seems. I've spent an average of 14 hours/day doing work-work since my last post. Somehow I've fitted in an hour of gardening hard labour every day as well. And still managed some sleep, albeit bad sleep, and not quite enough. Until today - almost nothing accomplished. Other than a really sad bird/bunny catch. Thought it was good when I caught two bunnies that were loose in the neighbours garden. Thought it was good when I caught two fantail pigeons in the very large aviary. All went to hell when I looked in the first nesting box and found 3 dead finches huddled in the back corner. Literal featherweights. I was called by concerned lady across the street. Apparent discord, both people moved out, house on market. Neighbour-lady went to 1st show day 8 weeks ago, because daughter was possibly interested, and advised realtor that birds and bunnies had no food or water. Agent contacted owner, who was there at least once - issue passed out of neighbour's mind until she saw 2 of 4 bunnies in the street. She went to show house past Sunday, saw bunnies had dug out, and two were MIA, and only two fantails of large flock left in aviary. She didn't know there were finches or parakeets. She made agent on site help her give water and food, and then got hold of me indirectly. And I spent the afternoon catching live ones, and taking photos of little bodies. I called SPCA, they called agent and then owner - his only concern was how I'd gained access (over your 3'6" wall dickbrain...same as any self-respecting burglar would!) and whether I had touched his lock on the gate. And apparently there is some long story about how it all has nothing to do with him. This on the same day as the guy who cut his Husky puppy's head off with a chainsaw gets off with a token fine payable to the local SPCA, and a suspended sentence. And is allowed to continue owning any kind of dog except a Husky. The world sucks.

So...over at Shrink Rap, there's a whole bunch of posts on shrinks talking about patients and vice verse, and a huge number of angry comments. Blogging is going to remain controversial for a long time still, I reckon. I suppose the first newspapers probably were too. And still are, often. So why should a blog be different? Was going to comment there, but figured an "anonymous" would probably bite my head off, and then I couldn't decide where to comment either. Or worse, one of the other people who I mostly respect would be the biter, and right now I couldn't handle that.

Instead of commenting, I'll add my feelings here - if you blog it, it's public. Never say something you aren't prepared to stand up and say in person, be it nice or nasty. Medical blogs are even more complicated than real-life medical ethics, which have been stirring up chaos since old Hippo wrote the oath. Doctors are still people, and are just as much allowed to do what the rest of us do. Even, God forbid, have feelings! It doesn't matter whether you use your name or not, unless you make up everything about yourself, your friends, your family, your job and your entire life, sooner or later someone will associate you and your blog, and human nature being what it is, might use the info for maximum effect. So repeat the sentence about being willing to stick up for what you say. There are only 3 people in RL who know I blog - p-doc, t-doc and Duckbuddy. DB is the only one who knows the blogname. She asked me to take stuff out when we had the big bust-up a while back. I did, and then I put it back. My blog, my life, my thoughts. And I can stand by what I said about her. P-doc and t-doc know I have one, and I've referred them both to sites that I comment on and have linked to - but we've never talked much about it. If you know me from what I say about myself, you'll probably know them both by name, and you might know previous two p-docs as well. Anything unkind I've said about them is true, in my opinion, and I'd say it to them if asked. Well except that # 2 put the phone down on me when I called to say 'bon voyage' before he was supposed to emigrate. T-doc knows him via other patients too, and apparently he ended up not going. And after I told # 1 by email that, 6 years after I stopped seeing him professionally, I still believed that we're supposed to have had sex, and would he consider a quick fling.....and he replied very nicely, but said that seeing as his wife (who I know well) was using his computer at the time and had "accidentally" read my mail, she was a tad unimpressed with me. He himself was flattered that I asked but not planning on any extra-curricular activity with anyone, never mind ex-patients. At least he didn't say 'fat, psycho ex-patients'. We've spoken since then, and still get on well, and I still really admire him. So nothing I could ever say about him to anyone including blogworld could ever be dumber, or more embarrassing.

And the current docs? They know I blog, they know that they are very important to me, they know I am genuinely fond of them. And being in SA where things are a bit less litigious, and thus a bit more relaxed in general, I know an awful lot about both of them as people too. I've posted a lot of p-doc's more outrageous remarks, but always because they are so, so funny. Maybe some people would find below the belt humour from their p-doc intolerable - to me, it's part of what makes me like him. Which in turn is part of what makes me open up to him, and tell him the unflattering stuff. Which also helps me to trust him to help me, even if it is by prescribing meds that can really destroy me if we get it wrong. And it is a question of 'we' - he prescribes based on what I tell him about me, and he tunes the meds based on what I tell him about the results, and if I'm not completely honest, there will be stuff-ups, and I'm the one who will get hurt more. Ultimately, that has to be it - more so even than your spouse, if you don't and can't trust your psychologist and/or psychiatrist, you need to look for another one. Soon.

Bit of a digression there...

Guess what I'm saying is that if I learned that either of them blogged, and got to read the blogs, and thought I could recognise myself......I trust them both enough to accept that anything they would say about me there would probably be what they'd already said to me in person. And if it was something I didn't agree with, I would go to them and ask about it. In the same way as I believe that, although I don't use names (but realise that if you find me and you know me, everyone is identifiable eventually), and still believe that it's my life that I am writing about more than anyone else's, psychiatrists and psychologists have lives too. And they should be allowed to write about them, including about patients, their feelings about a particular patient, the things that either they or the patient have said to each other that resonated somehow. No-one is perfect, not patients (definitely...ask me, I am one!), and not doctors either, but in most countries we're still allowed opinions.

After all, would you want to be married to a person who said nasty things about you behind your back, would you accept that from your family and friends? The choice is simple : if the nasty thing is true, then fix it. If it isn't, then challenge it face to face. And if you can't do either, then stop interacting with people, be it in person or by blog.

So much for a quick and early entry before bed!

For anyone who's interested in the debate, check the original posts at
Dinah's Let me tell you about my patient,
Clink's Let me tell you about my doctor, and
Dinah's Let me make myself perfectly clear, as well as some of the links referred to. And the comments, ohhhh boy....the comments!!

So for the record : p-doc, I still love you. And trust you and respect you. And think you have the sexiest forearms known to humankind. Even though you are short.
T-doc, I still wish I could be like you when I grow up - the fact that you are 10 years younger than me just highlights that I was very grown-up at 20, and have been regressing ever since.
And p-doc # 2? While I used to really like you, and trusted you a lot, I don't think I ever really respected you. And I respect you a lot less since you started acting like (excuse me Sarebear while I borrow your word...) Dr Dorkhead. Enjoy the rest of your life. Not.
And if any of the 3 Shrinks were my p-doc - well sorry, Clink, but rather it not be you - I'd be telling everyone I knew how brilliant and how kind and funny my p-doc was.....

long day even though i didn't do much

- best bit as always, seeing p-doc this morning. Got him laughing twice - the first when he (as always) asked about gym, and I said no but lots of heavy garden work, and he was going to shake hands (normal thing) - I said can't, he says why, I show him multi-layered blister in palm of right hand from digging (which, in all honesty does look a lot like a wannabe stigmata), and he gets this look on his face that says oh shit, know she self-injures but neatly, and not like this one ever, what now...- I tell him it's a blister on a blister, he visibly relaxes and insists on shaking left hands instead.

And then, he tells me that his early-morning reading matter was an article that says that the human brain establishes 1 million new connections every second, and isn't that amazing. So I thought about it, and asked how many die off every second. I get the look, and he starts laughing, and says he's going to have to send that one to the author - how even in the most incredible fact, someone with depression can find the negative. (hey, I mean be fair, how many connections can your skull cater for before it starts looking like Boris Karloff? I wasn't only being negative!) And made little red squiggles on his sheet of little squiggles that only he can interpret, which theoretically tell him everything meaningful that he asked me about.

When I first started seeing him, he told me that his notes aren't encrypted, per se, but by default they are, because no-one else has a clue about what any of his symbols mean, never mind what he notes next to them, and the bits that he actually writes like 'increase Remeron' or list of current drugs etc are so bland that no-one would mind them being read - a lot easier than the electronic hospital notes and HIPAA stuff that the US shrinks talk about. His files are his only. Also, he said straight-faced, if it does end up that he and a patient file get dragged into court, his writing is so appalling anyway that a judge will quite likely believe him if he claims that he can't read it either!

Love the dude - he's brilliant, funny, and I really believe that he's about the only one who will ever fix the fuck-up I've become. Just wish it would happen faster.

And then quick stop at the rehab centre and make peace with bosslady, and off to meeting at IT job - make peace with software team (only 'cos asshole was deliberately not invited by me), and end up with a million extra tasks, all marked urgent. Home for an hour of hard labour in the garden before dark.

Decided just now that he (or she) who documents things publicly first gets to steer the conclusions in the right direction, so finished off my evening by writing a masterful (well, I think so...) email listing all the relevant stuff from the meeting and who is responsible for doing anything about it. Had to think hard, so that I could put boss's initials next to 3 out of 12 points - even though two of them were things that I put down as 'not discussed because we ran out of time', so he didn't even get to dive out of them personally. Besides, they are basically just running interference for me and telling other senior people that they have to have status meetings every 2 weeks if they ever want this project to stop sitting with it's bum in the mud. So much for a peaceful weekend - I have now committed myself to about 50 hours work before Monday morning, tomorrow morning is full up with non-work things already, my list of other stuff to be done asap has snuck across about 4 corners of other pieces of important paper. Fuck, I knew I deliberately turned doing this whole upgrade thing down last year because I can't handle the stress and the hours, and now I'm sticking my own stupid head right into it. I should have the sense to leave well enough alone. Guess at least I can count the number of bags of gravel that this pays for - even after tax, if I didn't have to pay medical stuff, household, domestic worker, car and animal stuff, Gil the builder, water and lights, and maybe food and cigarettes as well, I could buy about 1606 bags of purple gravel (actually grey with just a purply-pink hint) or 401 bags of rose-quartz ( the real thing, sooooo stunning, and so dog-proof!) or 480 bags of fist sized caramel-brown river rocks. All of which, at about 20kg a bag, albeit different coverage rates, would cover the entire garden and the house - I'm just using them in patches bordered by paving stones to theoretically create dog un-friendly bits, where I plant stuff, and then also use the rocks to make it eco-friendly by preventing evaporation and encouraging composty things to happen under there. And then the dogs can hurtle up and down in between.

I guess I have to confess though, that since I started in the right-hand corner with a patch of about 15 ft squarish of gravel and lots of little plants in it, from the three dogs, there hasn't been one turd anywhere else except smack in the middle of my lovely gravel - and in one case, dead centre in the middle of a plant, almost like a soft brown orchid. Go figure.

And go sleep. Long day starts in about 30 mins, and only 6 hours of it will contain sleep. Night-night....

sos-dd

...as ex BF used to say. Same old shit - different day. Boss hasn't replied to any of my emails, or done anything of use to me that I know of. Went sideways, and got the opposition to book the meeting as I don't have access to the calendar system because I don't use the company mail. Big-boss - I know it isn't really funny, but it is anyway - well, copied him on grouchy mail on Sunday night, and he went and had a heart attack and is now in ICU. Don't know whether he read my mail or not - hope not! All the stuff that didn't work still doesn't. Got some feedback from developers, so now I have work to do, but between being in the garden and having to go places, I haven't started on it. Great. When I needed it over the weekend, I couldn't have it. Now that I don't feel like it, it's here. Typical idiot me.

Apart from that, meds do nothing, dreams are crap, still sleep badly even though I am always tired, mood still way down, but with the irritability way up. Anxiety is better though, mostly. And I'm digging holes in solid shale in the garden, so I hurt physically. Still haven't spoken to rehab-boss either, but have to go there tomorrow - guess I have to see if she says anything first.

At least the animals are healthy. And Gilbert the builder will hopefully finish this weekend, which will end that open flow of money. And I see p-doc tomorrow. He was talking about adding Aurorix (Manerix), but says that is so unknown that he has to check with manufacturers first. I figure we could try it anyway, seeing as I'm just about immune to side-effects, the Inderal is lowering my BP, and I'm off TCAs. It's damn expensive though, so hopefully he doesn't want to try it just yet - I am soooo broke till the end of the month.

Bipolar sucks. Depression sucks. Being old and fat and ugly sucks. Everything sucks.

uh oh.....

- could be in trouble tomorrow! Have just sent my boss (and his boss) at the IT job as well as about 10 other people a mail titled 'update - regression this week', where I said that there had been no progress at all, and highlighted the teams who are preventing it. So a)my popularity with them will be sub-zero (it is with the one lot anyway), b)my boss will be in shit as well when he gets back from his training on Weds, c)if the client sees or hears of what I've said (which is all true), he will hit the roof because there are huge cost implications if the upgrades don't happen soon, and d)know what? I couldn't really care. Either it gets some action or I get fired. If I get fired, it's yet another reason for killing myself.

Paddles is turning into a puppy-monster of note. I'm not sure who is the naughtiest, him or CJ, but they are almost always together, and almost always either wrestling or doing something that they shouldn't be. It's quite amazing to see the change in his personality over the past 10 days, as he realises that he won't be beaten or starved or chained up, no matter what he does. At worst, I am now saying NO firmly, and he is accepting that - well, it works for about 5 minutes, before he tries again!
Zac just looks at them, and gives me the 'children...' kind of tolerant expression.
And goes off to wait for a cat to appear under the bedroom door....

By the way, Kong's don't float. And the automatic pool cleaner doesn't like having them stuck in it's throat. CJ just can't resist throwing everything he plays with in the pool though. They can all swim, and can all find the steps, but am starting to think a cover to protect the cleaner might be needed - CJ would probably eat that as well!

Gilbert is still building....

....in my domestic worker's rooms - basically putting a bath in and making the place look nice. But that entailed knocking down a wall and rebuilding it 3 feet away, and finding all kinds of stray and strange things. So the last 4 Saturdays have mostly been spent either making decisions with him, or going shopping for yet another thing he didn't know he would need. Been an expensive excercise, but it's basically a gift for having worked for me for ten years, first part-time, and then full-time. Next month we'll do some work on her kitchen.

Ended up sending bosslady an email last night about why I had stalked out. No reply, so don't know whether she just hasn't read it yet, or whether she read it and muttered something like oh stuff off asshole. And then IT boss sent a mail saying that he is going to be out of the office regularly while doing some management training for the next 5 months, including Mon and Tue. Still hasn't done any of the things that I need him to do for this upgrade project - like kicking ass with other managers about their lack of co-operation. I gather via the grapevine that his idea of conflict management is avoidance, but we have a project at a standstill that is going to cost the client huge amounts if it isn't done this year, and he's the one who has to sort it out. So while I was on a roll, I replied telling him that it was great that he was doing this course, but my weekly progress report to all and sundry was going to consist of one word - "none". And then let the shit hit the fan from upper management downwards. Fully expect some of it to land on me, but I am so tense at the moment that I figure a fight could even help.

Managed my proper afternoon nap today for the first time this week, but it was kind of ruined by the really awful and vivid dreams. I often dream clearly, but one of the meds seems to be turning the content unpleasant. Worst bit this afternoon was dreaming that I was somewhere unknown, saw a meerkat in this woman's house, in a tiny little cage, and was telling her that it was illegal etc, and that I was going to either take it with me, or call Nature Conservation. So she looks at me, and tells me that I'll be pleased to know then that she is not going to be keeping the two babies that she has, and I see that she has two little ones of about a week in her right hand. And as I see them, she takes their heads in her other hand and just rips them completely off, and shows me the little headless bodies while she laughs. Woke up from that one in tears, only to roll over and sleep some more, with equally vivid but not quite so brutal dreams. Only good thing is that by the time I'm finished with nightmares, the bad things that are likely to happen in real life seem to be almost insignificant.

Db is sending bland and friendly msg's - I replied to Thursday's with one word of my own, when she wanted to know about my appt with p-doc - fine. Didn't reply to yesterday or today's, just can't think of anything nice to say. Mentioned the whole thing to t-doc on Fri, who said that she kind of gets it almost as if when anyone else has a headache, Db has to have a migraine to outdo them. Feels like that to me too sometimes. Or maybe it's just me dragging her down. I don't know anymore. But at the moment it just seems to complicated and painful, so I'm being a chicken and just hiding away.

Paddles is so bouncy today that it's hard to believe he was ever sick - he is becoming such a funny, affectionate boy. My one friend's sister has been out here from Switzerland to visit their elderly mother, and popped in for a drink last night. She was throwing the ball for CJ (in the house....) and accidentally hit Pad on the head. It was so amazing, he actually stood in front of her and barked furiously - just as if he was scolding her! It wasn't a fear bark, or an aggressive one, but just the whole way he stood there showed such confidence that he could express his feelings and not have to worry about being punished for it - lovely. He and CJ both sprint for the kitchen every time I stand up - while Zac lies in the hall and gives this kind of tolerant sigh. Pad needs neutering though, as soon as he weighs enough - there's far too much mock-wrestling and dominance posturing going on, and I wouldn't want to see fights between him and CJ. He'd end up being a flattened pancake!

And now, in spite of it being not that late on a Saturday night.....bedtime with the cats. Sleep well, to you all, and to me.

and more of the same

today was - get irritated because I'd agreed to fetch something for the rehab centre and drove the long way round to t-doc to get it, only to find that yet again someone had screwed up arrangements. It's happening more and more over the last few months - irate vets phone because nobody has fetched a bird four days after they called, volunteers get sent places only to find that someone has already been to collect whatever. If it's on the way it's not too bad, just makes us look incompetent. When it's miles across town it's annoying as well. Saw t-doc, then went to the centre to take the pigeon I'd brought through only because I was going to be going there with the pick-up. Waited an hour to talk to the centre manager about my pigeon, and then the pick-up problem. It's an issue for me because I do so many of them. And there were a couple of other things to ask her about, nothing major.

So pigeon gets the death sentence, which I was kind of expecting - in fact, almost sure of, because of his shoulder, but hadn't wanted to call it myself. And then I was talking to her about the pick-up situation, basically had hardly started when some stupid, arrogant, little twat starts interrupting every sentence I said with either wrong info, or her own little bright ideas. Eventually after about the 5th time, I picked up the basket I had, said to the boss that I obviously wasn't needed in the conversation I was trying to have, and walked out. Sent her an sms a few hours later saying that whoever the idiot child was could ask bosslady the rest of the things I'd wanted to as she obviously felt she could do a better job than I could of saying what I was thinking. Even if she had no fucking clue. Get a reply a while later saying if it's important email me. Replied that nothing is important.

It isn't, but I had wanted to talk to her. Had wanted her opinion on a couple of other things, had wanted feedback on a snake-catcher whose number she'd asked me for yesterday. And I feel like a hurt kid... the one who wants to answer in class and gets ignored by the teacher in favour of the cute little princess who doesn't know stuff all about the subject, but has all the self-confidence that means knowing the answer is less important than being the favourite.

I know I'm over-irritable at the moment with the meds. That was mostly why I wanted to talk to boss-lady. She is so centered, so focused, so much who I'd like to be if I ever grow up. Yeah, know she is way not perfect, but still....

So I have reacted in my normal really grown-up sensible way. Went out the centre like the proverbial bat, dirt-sliding the bakkie down the rock road, driving like a bad boy-racer on the highway, passed by the bottle-store for a bottle of vodka. And bang goes the month or whatever stupid period it was of abstinence. Over some stupid bitch whose name I don't even know. I am such an absolute loser idiot. Only thing in favour of the vodka is that it leaves less permanent scars than the blades do. And it's less fatal in the next hour or two than the collection is. Loser bitch, stupid fool, I really am such a waste of resources. I am a coward and a cow, a bitch and a brat. Too scared to die. Too fucked up to live. And the stupidest thing, too competent and too lucky to die by accident. For example...I have only had one car accident in 20 years of driving in which I wasn't stationary - except for a couple of parking garage pillars (parking has always been a bad thing) - and that one was entirely not my fault. I have been risky places, done risky things, taken chances that should have hurt or killed. Nada. Come out of them all, maybe hurting inside, but fine. Guess it is going to have to be self-inflicted if I want it this badly. Hey, even my mother tried to send me a mail the other day saying without actually saying it that it's cool with them if I kill myself. She messed up by sending it half-written when she meant to save it as a draft, and had to phone to tell me, once again without saying it in so many words, what she was trying to say. Guess if even your mom thinks it's a good idea, maybe it's time....

blahblahblah

Saw p-doc this morning - only nice thing about feeling so permanently shit is seeing him weekly. Wish though that I could be able to show him me the way I am when I'm not deeper than whale-shit depressed - we'd have fun, because we have very much the same warped sense of humour. He's brilliant, but I'm smart enough some of the time to keep up with concepts. Best example from recent times? - when we somehow got onto the subject of birds and people and diseases, and I said that I still wasn't sure about zoonosis not working both ways mostly - that humans pass on more diseases to birds than the reverse. Like what, he says. Trichomoniasis, says I, confidently - in humans it's about 99.9% an STD, whereas in birds it is normally systemic and either fatal, or the bird becomes a carrier. One of my not-accepted theories at work is that anyone coming in contact with birds should automatically put themselves on a course of metronidazole, synulox and doxycillin every 6 months or so to prevent us from passing things on to our patients unknowingly. Well, he replies, with a straight face, not even the weirdest of my patients has ever mentioned stuffing a pigeon up their vagina.... Looked up, caught his eye, and we both collapsed....

Meds screw up memory though, and some of them dumb me down a bit. Actually, a lot. If only they'd do what they're supposed to though - I'd live with being a bit stupider but happier. Been seeing him for two years, about this month sometime. Can't remember much of when, but I think it was beginning of July 2005. Will ask girlshrink - she has an absolutely photographic memory, and remembers stuff about me that I don't remember at all! All we are doing med-wise for now is doubling Inderal, Pexola and Remeron. So I'll be more irritable and dream worse. And maybe adding Aurorix, but he reckons that even though he takes risks with meds, he wants this one in writing from the manufacturers before he tries it. I figure I'll try anything. Animal, mineral or vegetable - if there is any vaguely reputable study showing that it made anyone who is simultaneously conforming to general societal rules even slightly happier....oh shit, I'll take it without a thought. I'm scared of VNS, because that really has horrible but survivable s/e's - talking like a Russian body-builder and a few more strange things. And p-doc put me off DBS completely by saying that if anyone in SA would do it, it's a dude in Cape Town, So, he says, close to your folks while you take 3 months off to learn to control basic body functions like urination. OK....just said no to that one as well!

Good news is that Paddles is back to normal, cheeky and bouncy, and the little whip-tail is going fulltime. I was trying to plant some wild irises in the garden earlier, and he and CJ found me lying under a bush - they thought it was perfect, stand on mommy and kiss her. Yeccchh!

And DB is, I think, sulking with me. I'm beginning to think that maybe we are bad for each other. She was doing well, makes contact with me, and then within days, is almost competing to try and be more down than me. And I'm tense and irritable (which might be a side-effect of the Pexola, says p-doc), miserable as all hell, and I feel like I just don't have any strength to give away. Which makes me feel even more shit, for not being supportive and a good friend etc. It's lose-lose for me all round. And then we have coffee, and she'll be all chirpy and funny, and she is so smart that it is scary, and I remember why I love her. Rollercoaster friendship.... not such a good thing for me at the moment. Last night I sent her a message saying, amongst a whole lot more, good night. 90 mins later she sends a long one to tell me that she has just told HB she wants to go into hospital, but won't go unless p-doc is on call this weekend. Which wakes me up from what is norrmally the only 3 hours of sleep that I get that isn't interrupted by waking up because of bad dreams. So I was annoyed, didn't respond, sent her a message this morning saying please don't do that. Get back 'sorry' - and nothing else since. Which from the girl who normally sends 20 sms's minimum per day means....she's pissed off with me for that.

Oh yeah, and I screwed up. In the middle of conversation about dosage of other things p-doc asks how many Dormonoct I have and without thinking I said 50 odd. Actually, 51. Good, he says, then he's not giving me any more till the end of August - and makes a note of it! He wants my Nardil, of which I still have 274, so he's trying to trade off other stuff. Somehow I can't stop myself from hoarding the leftovers from when we either change meds, or, because appts are always hard to get, he will normally give either an extra day, or allow a repeat, and for some stupid reason, all of the extra days go straight to the collection. Which is such a waste of money, especially if I keep giving it up to him and he turfs it - 3 times so far - and each time, within a week I start it again. And each one gets worse in terms of being effective, because he knows about it and keeps the scripts tight as possible. Weird...I have never done this before I started seeing him - before that it was always 'oh, and take all the killer meds as well'. Since him though, even before DB (who is even worse at it than me), it's been an obsession to accumulate as much as possible of everything - even remembered the possible puking, so conned ten serious anti-nausea ones out of him. Revenge of the gods was that the next drug I took made me puke big-time, so badly that I ended up taking 6 of the tabs. Normally I love puking - although there is no way I can make myself do it, whenever it happens there is this bit of me gleefully working out how much of the last meal has just gone down the toilet. Weird, really really weird. Only reason for so many Nardil is because you can't get it in SA, so my folks had to go to huge effort to get it in the States in Jan, and, with a script and letter from him, eventually managed to get 6 months worth. Pity it did nothing except postural hypotension, unspecific dizziness and twitchy leg. Zip to the mood though. Could give him the unopened bottle to pass on, but don't want to. Side-bet with myself though - he is sooo good at persuading me, that he'll probably get it within the next month. Can't even bet myself a good lunch, because a good lunch without alcohol isn't that good. Haven't had anything at all since the night/morning a month ago when I started at 03h00 and finished a half bottle of vodka around 06h00. Good girl. Asshole....

yet again...

....my planned day in the garden didn't happen, and when I finally got to spend an hour there, it was ruined by next door's f*********@&&&&&@&#&@*(*@(@(king dog, that yaps non-stop whenever I so much as MOVE in the garden. Never mind being able to dig and plant, or heaven forbid, play with my own dogs in peace. And relations between neighbour and I are tenuous enough already after he climbed over my wall, damaged my electric fence, and cut all the branches of my pepper tree that go even remotely over the wall, which means that they have a great view straight into my house because of the slope of the land. Well, stuff him, in summer - I walk around mostly nude, swim nude, and believe me, it's a really revolting sight. Hope it puts them off from ever using their lounge for 8 months of the coming year!

Reason for non-gardening was taking Paddles through to CLAW, and then to their vet, as he is coughing a bit and just generally acting unhappy today. And he puked a mouthful last night. After the Twig, I panic easily if he so much as looks a bit sad. Seems as if he has a mild kennel cough type virus, so is on antibiotics for a week. ClAW gave me vaccs for the other two as well - very generous of them - so I did them when I got home. Injecting CJ sub-cut is like injecting a brick of frozen butter - there is no loose skin, it's all attached to his blubber! And then realised I'd forgotten chemist, and am out of Remeron, so had to get dressed and go out again.

It's cold, my dog is sick, all 4 cats are still sneezing (sample - Sam - saw vet on Monday, says also virus, but v. mild), only heater in house burned its cord and the plug yesterday and I forgot to fix today, I'm still miserable as all hell, still tense and irritable as well, tired - sleep like shit at night, but can't wake up in morning even after 10 hours, haven't had time all week for an afternoon nap to compensate - have been fighting with people that have to be fought with, otherwise they don't do their effing jobs, but am tired of having to keep doing it. Tired of everything.

yawn some more....

- not much of a day, but as always, I'm exhausted. Did a couple of errands this morning, cheated and bought more stone mix for the garden (am slowly dog-proofing vulnerable plants by surrounding them with uncomfortable-to-walk-on stones) even though I am sooooo broke this month, and was on my way home when I got a call to tell me there was a problem with one of my databases at work. Turned out to be someone else had a problem, but they needed me to restore some data so they could fix it. Oops. Big, big, oops. I couldn't do the restore, because, although I had the backup, it was an in-flight one, and the change log for the same period had already been cycled out and overwritten. Mortifying. My first stuff up in 3 years of being a lazy contractor - well, the first one anyone else has known about, the others I've been able to fix without telling anybody. Database administrators are devious about things like that - we squirrel things like extra space and extra backups and spare anything we can get hold of away, just in case. And quite often those things mean we can keep our asses clean - not this time though. I had a cycle of 50 logs, to get where they wanted, I needed to have had the 58th one. Which was history already....

So tomorrow it's emergency change time, before I go see t-doc. And then come play in the garden afterwards. For some reason, now that it's the middle of winter and really not the best time to be planting things, I have become obsessed with fixing up the garden, after 7 years of letting it gradually be squashed out of existence by the dogs. Doing it in patches - one for the dogs, one for me, one for the dogs, one for me etc etc. So eventually, maybe my patches will distract from the Sahara that the dogs turn their bits into - complete, thanks to Zac the Collie, with sand dunes and hollows (he likes to dig a 3 inch deep and 2 foot diameter hole, and then he curls up and sleeps in that. Go figure. Must be a collie ritual of some kind).

And for now, bed with the furball kitties, nature's greatest source of heat....

Oh, and damn bloody hated beyond all hatred medical plan not only won't pay for Ketamine (which was expected), but won't pay one cent of anaesthetist or hospital costs. Because they don't believe I should have tried the Ket in the 1st place they say. Actually, because they are a bunch of money-grubbing shitheads. Not my favorite people, seeing as in addition to what I pay them for full coverage, I have to pay about 45% of my salary for the things that they won't pay for - pdoc, tdoc, meds, gynae, blood or other lab tests unless done in hospital, 3/4 of almost every doctor of any kind, and everything my dentist does (unless he did it in hospital....). Hate them. Guess I need it though, because mostly they pay for hospitals - and I seem to be spending enough time in them this year again.

twiglet's heir

so...there's a Paddles in the house. Fetched him from the rescue centre on Thursday, introduced him to the boys, which went well, and am now trying to learn how to handle an abused dog.

He's called Paddles, because the tendons in his legs aren't strong enough to hold his paws in the right position, due to malnutrition. About a year old, and from the sounds of it, spent most of that chained so tightly that he had to defecate where he lay. How do you housetrain a dog that has never had a house? There have been a few accidents so far, and all I'm doing is saying 'no' gently, if I see him. And conversely, praising him and playing with him when he does something outside. He has already picked up quite a bit of weight since his rescue, and learned to trust the clinic manager. Now he's starting to trust me - just a bit. I can't give him a dog chew, because the twig-shape scares him. I have to call them all, let him see the others take theirs and then toss his gently towards him, and once he knows he can't be hit with it, he'll take it. Often he'll hide in a corner, or in the fireplace. He and CJ are almost always together which I'm sure will help, although CJ keeps knocking him over by mistake. I'm hoping that he'll see that CJ is happy, secure and knows he is loved - although that was dubious this morning when a half-chewed, soggy cow hoof was dropped in the bath with me, because he'd just eaten the last tennis ball.....

Meds and mood are so nowhere at the moment. Not sure whether it's a Ket reaction or just getting new meds into system, but I am either sleepy, anxious or irritable. Or all 3. Only good thing is that the anxiety bit means I have been doing things around the house and garden to try and stop myself from pacing or sleeping all day. I'm still so disappointed about the Ket - just about all the results have shown positive effects for everyone, even if only short-lived. Guess alien is leading the pack on the options for my genotype.

ketamine down

so I made it there on time, got into theatre, watched whole set-up with interest. Nice anaesthetist used warm saline, which made it feel good, at least. The Ket though was somewhat unpleasant. It's like watching a movie where single frames have been cut, so that there's just a slight discontinuity, and you have to think about whether a sentence actually made sense or not. And a feeling of things not being put together quite right, but you can't work out why. Talking is difficult, and following a conversation between two people is like trying to watch two separate movies at the same time - things only make sense when you focus directly on them. As a recreational drug, I'd avoid it - can imagine it must be really horrid in a club environment with more noise and more people. Don't think I embarrassed myself too much, other than one bit where I took p-doc's hand and forgot to let go of it. Eventually he said to me 'why are you holding my hand?', and I looked at it with bewilderment, because I wasn't sure why either.

I'd live with the administration though if it had the desired effect. It didn't. I was just sleepy and shaky for the rest of the day, and hit-the-wall kind of down since yesterday morning. Don't know if that is reaction to the drug, or disappointment at not feeling good the way I was expecting to, but am just so flat.

New meds : Pexola, Remerol, Inderal - told him about the major anxiety. So at least I sleep early again, although still with bad dreams. Damn...had hopes for that one.

Too miz to write about Paddles, but will probably fetch him tomorrow.

the great Ketamine moment approaches

- tomorrow morning, have to be there by 06h00. Am panicking about sleeping through my alarm, something I have done every day this week. Sometimes because I am up late, and mostly working, sometimes because my anxiety levels are through the roof. I don't do anxiety, I don't know how to handle it. I can only presume that it's related to cutting down on all the meds so fast, and that it will go away soon. Meantime though I walk around the house at night with my gun loaded in my pocket because every little noise freaks me out. Would sleep with it under my pillow, but I am having so many really vivid nightmares that wake me up in a full on sweat, that I am too scared I'd grab it in my sleep.

Hopefully that's over after tonight. Either the Ket works, or I can ask Boyshrink for something to slightly lower the tension levels. I'm putting my stake on the Ket. Even though the thought of being unconscious and probably hallucinating in front of p-doc also has me nervous - I just know that if there is a possibility for saying inordinately indiscreet and embarrassing things, I'm gonna be the one discussing them in detail....cringe!

So tomorrow, if I don't end up either manic or psychotic, and get to come home as opposed to being bunged into the psych ward again (p-doc suggested packing for 3 or 4 days just in case.....), I'll write not only about the Ket, but also about Paddles.

Sleep well y'all - if I'm to be up at 05h00, I'd better tuck into bed now.