Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

Three ads for three options...

Please feel free to pass these on. The three as it's set up so far:

A replacement for Will

A roommate to pay rent and thus cover Melissa's fees as my helper

A local ground-floor unit or house (though I'd be willing to move to Tracy & Jerry's block if possible)

Room for rent: http://sfbay.craigslist.org/eby/roo/2991370970.html

Caregiver in exchange for rent & utilities: http://sfbay.craigslist.org/eby/dmg/2991313773.html

Looking for a one-bedroom: http://sfbay.craigslist.org/eby/hou/2991311043.html

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Melissa just came over to help me wash up after my PT session with the very cute Ms. Rivet which had been followed by a full dousing in chocolate Glucerna. Yuck. She also tried to cheer me up though right now that's difficult due to everything going on.

My disability is at a place where crossing fingers and praying's about all anybody can do. I need some serious help. Seeing my therapist tomorrow. Project Open Hand delivers tomorrow. My grill is allegedly _finally_ being paid for & picked up. Friday is more PT. Hoping to schedule an optometrist appointment ASAP. Friday after PT would be good. And so on.

Okay. I posted a quick new video on YouTube but I'm unsure where it gets shared to. And now to rest. My nausea has me by the gut and the throat. Ow, in other words.

Knocked Back Harder Than Expected

Just received an email letting me know the ground floor one-bedroom I wanted had a person ahead of me who signed the lease on it.

The emotion it has brought up in me is unbelievably dark and despondent. It's truly shocking how much I wanted this space. I had not realized just how much it meant to me to get it.

Yeah, I'm crying fairly hard currently at the loss of more than just an apartment. It meant an attempt at independent living to some degree.

I don't know what my next movement should be. I guess I didn't really think I'd be staying here. I don't want to stay here, I guess. Like the ring and the tattoo this apartment was chosen so Shawn could move in with me. I'm trying to put so much of those things behind me.

I can't live on a top floor unit without needing so much more help. It sucks but I have to face the truth.

What should I do? I don't know. Really I feel kicked in the chest and it hurts incredibly. I can't afford to break my lease though perhaps my medical condition can help with the legal aspect of necessity? I'll have to see if anybody can assist me in finding out if I do have any rights as regards to that.

Seriously, I didn't expect to not get it and I didn't know just how much I'd put into it.

If you care enough, set 'em free...

Will and I had yet another pretty good discussion this evening. Turns out that he's got a great chance to go back home a lot earlier than we had thought.

May 13, 2012.

So. Yeah. Fear? For sure.

Waiting to hear about the one-bedroom. If that falls through either due to cost or whathaveyou, I've a seriously tough decision to make. Should I try for another live-in caregiver or should I instead look for a paying roommate and pay for a live-out caregiver? Give a bit of discount on the room since I've so much stuff taking up the space? Half on all the utilities? Maybe offer a bit of discount if they help out?

I'd save a heck of a lot of money. Mom thought I was being taken advantage of and Will helped sway me because even he thinks I'd save money and be better off not paying my caregiver with rent and utilities. That's my thought, I guess. Between Erica and Will I went through hell and a series of mostly crappy people.

Will has been like the Al of my help. Al was the best relationship until Shawn. Will was the best caregiver since Erica. He started in September and we've barely fought. He's a good roommate _and_ a good assistant. Not perfect by any long shot, but damn good. And I find that I can say that I'm lucky to have had Will in my life.

The happier I am in my life, the more I miss Shawn. As if now I'm less foggy mentally, the more the person I shared everything with I noticeably miss. But hopefully that will pass. I'm planning on selling the bands from the rings and sending him the diamond from his mother back to him. Getting a coverup of our matching tattoos.

Trying to not let his absolute silence hurt and not hang on to the pipe dream of reconciliation. His pushing for the divorce so fast it made my head spin devastated me. His changing of certain promises added to that. But I can still want my soul mate back, even if I know he's not really there.

Enough of the maudlin shit.

I've clean clothes and blankets thanks to Will handling my laundry tonight. I've had a really horrible health night. My esophagitis is acting up. So badly I had PT cancel because for most of today I sounded like absolute shit. My voice just gets so bad when I've got vomit coming up to the back of my mouth over and over. The acid burns my throat so bad I start croaking.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Need to figure out what to do. Should I really fight for the ground floor one-bedroom or should I search for the great vegetarian roommate who wants to walk my dogs for a discount off their rent or should I see if there's another Will I can find?

Don't know. Any friendly suggestions welcome. Always. ;-p

Codicil Re: Cry Me A River

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The point I thought was obvious but perhaps wasn't is this...

I don't look to the familial situation as a reason to cry and point fingers and use it as an excuse for victimhood. So far as my family goes I'm fine with them and how things are. They don't get used as a reason for me to cry over and over "Why Daddy? Why did you want her to have an abortion? Why didn't you ever want to see me? Why did you give me up?" while I shoot drugs or drink alcohol. That's SO unimportant in the realm of my life.

I don't look at the car accident in '91 as a reason.

I sure as hell don't use my multiple sicknesses as a reason. And if I did a few years ago while I was coming to terms with how bad it was/is? Not any longer.

There's a reason I've had such a change in my life and why the way people who know me now either have seen the old happy cheerful go-lucky me return, but that's neither here nor there. Though it's a really great feeling to have that self back. ;-)

I'm not a victim using my family problems as an excuse to do drugs or alcohol or my weight gain from the steroids to wallow in an eating disorder. That's all the journal entry was regarding. How I don't go wah-wah-wah poor me...but rather how I'm happy enough - and as I'm typing this it's season five and yup another situation like one I can see my own life mirrored in a myriad of ways that just makes me shake my head.

I'm so lucky I've my pets. That's why I'm photographing them laying next to me as I type this. You can't see Femme Pois under the blanket next to Lolita, but she's there. Their unconditional love makes things so much better. And Melissa stopped by just now and that was a happy visit. There's lots of things like that in my life now. Friends call from across country and that's just as good as a hug. I'm feeling very lucky I'm my friends.

Okay...enough. I'm happy and I'm lucky and I hope that this clarifies my previous post. I'm loved by my family...but that's not the point. I wrote that I'm not using the dysfunction to use drugs and so forth.

Cry Me A River...

About "Intervention" - The thing about more than half these freaking people is they cry and complain about having "no daddies" and I'm so pissed off at their pathetic natures. Tell me about it. I've grown up knowing damned well my biological father wanted my mom to have an abortion and _happily_ gave me up for adoption. My adopted father? Let's be blunt - of course he didn't give a damn to be my dad, especially after my (half) sister was born a couple of years into the marriage.

Drives me freaking nuts. In some ways I can't understand how pathetically full of selfish ego they are when they drink so much or take so much heroin and their lives are full of people who love them. I mean families who love them. Love them immensely.

I've got none of that. If Shawn wasn't paying alimony I'd be dead. I'd have been on the streets with no medicine and I'd have died. My family has said point blank that even though they know how sick I am that I can't look to them for assistance. And let's be brutally frank: they're all extremely well off.

Have I _ever_ received a thing more than items or pets worth more than a small bit? HA! Nope. I asked mom for a get well present of a blood pressure cuff and she asked if a very cheap basic one would be ok and of course I said yes. I need one. $38-.

But yeah. It's almost a joke. When I asked my dad if we could get married on his property his first response was that he wasn't going to pay a cent and I had to interrupt him to say that wasn't the question and even when he said yes nobody was to be allowed in the bathroom so Shawn and I ended up renting the absolute highest class porta-potty we could.

So do I, with several serious illnesses combined, take more pain meds than I should? Do I make excuses?

Oxymoronics? And intervening. Etc.

1. The more I miss Shawn the more I also recognize I'm happier than I've been in a while.

2. Or is it the happier I feel the more I miss Shawn?

3. Will and I had a really good discussion tonight and it ended up with us acknowledging that if he's capable, he's possibly going to move back north in maybe as soon as two weeks to three weeks from now.

4. Tirhas at the SNF I just left spoke with me, semi-seriously, about adopting her 10-year-old niece back in Ethiopia. The mother has abandoned her to the father, or in realistic terms, Tirhas' parents, the girl's grandparents. I'd seriously consider it because other than my disability I would make a wonderful mommy. And yet it's a pipe dream, I'm sure. Though I know that Tirhas' family would definitely help out with babysitting and heck I'd go back to getting loads of free veggie Ethiopian food. ;-)

5. Should I move into a one-bedroom and pay somebody to come in for a specific hourly wage? How oxymoronic is it that even Will thinks it will save me money to do either that or maybe move to a one story two-bedroom where the other person pays rent? But I don't know. I'm considering searching what Cedar Properties has opening up in June.

Chip called about TAM and that was fun, babbling at him. And I'm sad that my Project Open Hand dinner tonight looked and tasted like dog food. Vegetarian dog food, maybe, but still...beyond gross. Usually it's not that bad. But tonight? Yuck!

I've been slowly watching the show "Intervention" and it's only this season (4) where I'm capable of relating. Because they're showing how fucked up these families are that helped create these situations. Telling your tomboy obviously lesbian daughter she's going to hell while you're an adulterer? Beating your kids and abandoning them when you're ready to move on? Sending them into the military where they end up killing people in Iraq and come back with huge survivor guilt? Or how about the family ignoring the invisible illness causing serious pain and calling the person an addict and cutting them from all the meaningful family events? That one they even brought in a doctor to "chastise" the family for that shit. Wish they'd done that for me...

It Just Makes Me Want To Throw My Hands In The Air...

Seriously? You're that stupid that if there are extra bottles of medication arriving you don't just put them on the side until the older bottles are completed?

Seriously? You're that dense you don't know to discuss questions or look on the bottles to see what gets taken with food and doesn't? I have to remind you of that after you've been doing my pills since September 2011 and it's eight months later - close to four times that multiplied - about reading the fucking labels?

Seriously? You've so little common sense you need to have me run out of medications before letting me know that I need to replenish? Or that if you don't know what a certain medication is you can look up from your desk to your iMac and do a search for what the medication is for (if I don't know or I'm unavailable to be asked) and/or call my doctor to find out if I need to continue it?

And so on.

Because, seriously? I'm more angry than I think he realizes. Really, very angry. I effectively tried to let him know that this might break our agreement for the final time. I said that besides walking the dogs this is one of the major reasons I started looking for a person to move in as more than a roommate (and much less than a lover, thank you very much).

And seriously I'm so angry. So so frustrated and angry because I _know_ he's not stupid or dense or any of it. And sometimes he's a great freaking caregiver/assistant. Like today, earlier, he handled taking me to the doctor very smoothly. And other than getting frustrated and thus angry (for him) and making the environment very tense I believe he does _try_ to do good.

But he (it seriously comes across as) seriously isn't listening. So I'm going to see how today goes. I'm beyond underwhelmed in some ways so I don't know what I hope...should I move to a one-bedroom? Pay somebody minimum wage to assist me and if I get IHSS than I can offer more and get truly trained help.

That's the thing...for a non-trained, non-referenced paid job where no rent, security, utilities, web service, and so forth are needed to be worried about so in some ways it's a great cocoon or starting place for an artist or stay at home part-time developer or programmer - whatever - to kick it.

I don't have tantrums. I don't start fights. I'll in fact do everything I can to avoid them. Yes, to my detriment. I'm thinking of moving to a one bedroom or maybe finding a two-bed in Vallejo next to my two wonderful friends. Some place with no stairs and where I can let the dogs out to play or pee or poo and with my scooper reach down and not need to worry about stressing my back.

Seriously, I want peace and I want quiet and I _need_ security. If my medicine needs food to be assimilated to combat my Addiaon's disease that should be crucial. If my medicine needs no food in order to combat my Hashimodo's than that also should be crucial. Don't know? Look at the bottle. Doesn't say? Look it up or best guess is it doesn't matter. But don't hand me my medicine container with them in the same box. That's just as bad as not giving me my medication at all.

Yeah...I think I need to ask him to leave or I need to find a situation that makes it so it's not even a question. Because I hate the idea of him thinking I'm throwing him out with no notice or good reasons. I wish I could find a different place to live. Single story with a yard, laundry hookups, pets happily desired, and 20-30 hours a month of help at $8/hour. Best friends near enough that hospital call is only a quick text or knock on the roof or wall away.

Unconditional pet love. It's the only thing in this world that cuts through the agony of the pain. Because I hurt and I'm unsure of what I can even take based on Will's serious screw up of my medications. I told him as soon as I saw it he was going to be frustrated by my bringing up this serious error. And he was. And he then proceeded to effectively talk over everything pertinent to the problem and how to try to fix at least the two most serious issues. It hurt to know I was right and my health needs aren't being met. I hope this afternoon goes better. Otherwise I'm going to have more than just frustration induced myoclonus. I'm going to have anger induced myoclonus possibly leading to me wanting a fight if only to push him into storming out...

Realism (Or What Molly Faced Tonight, Financially)

Thinking dark thoughts because today was a really bad health day (again).

I hate being so freaking sick. I hate having to pay somebody to care for me. Especially I hate feeling like the $950+/month isn't appreciated.

Yet that's how I feel at times.

Frustrated. Sick. Sad.

Do people not realize that my paying their rent, utilities, some food or phone or extras every month works out to this:

20 hours a week = $11.85
30 hours a week = $7.90

Or really between $8 & $12

I should move into a one bedroom!!! This is nuts. I feel as though by the begrudging way my caregiver/assistants/roommates behave adds to my stress which adds to things causing me to feel worse. It sometimes even (like tonight) makes me feel like I'm getting screwed by people.

What am I thinking? If they get IHSS? That's like $22+ hour. For untrained help! Not one of these people has had any medical training. Not even CPR licensing I believe. I feel like the schmuck my mom says I am for handling things this way instead of just paying somebody. I'd be better off finding a roommate to pay their half of everything and paying them by the hours that they actually work.

Or by moving into a one bedroom. Even having all four pets. And finding a nearby neighbor like Melissa to assist me and paying hourly wage and texting her during emergencies. She likes walking my dogs with hers, for instance.

Today my left arm kept going numb on and off - all day. Very frightening. Very. Coupled with the weird skin problems noticed by Dr. Young that caused her to immediately say "Lupus."

I keep having to deal with things that by their application for the situation of being my assistant/caregiver/roommate, with my very spelled out list of needs, should fall under the province of my a/c/r.

Aargh. I'm out of my pain meds this coming Monday evening. Not a good situation to find myself in. Stress with low blood pressure does not bode well if not mastered. Why is everything wrong worse on my left side? Worse pain. Worse numbness. Neurologist question. Definitely.

Okay, need to rest my left arm. And consider sleep. Tomorrow looms.

"Pretty Women" - Sondheim

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I've the song stuck in my head as sung by the two Broadway stars who gifted Sondheim with them doing it as a duet before Patti came out to trio "A Little Priest" in what some consider the penultimate version.

Lolita, Princess of Goth has OCD pretty clearly. When she walks away she has long streaks of near hairlessness showing. I'm so certain that I wrote to Shawn asking him to seriously consider taking her and Precious Petal as I think the triple whammy of his leaving her, Purrbarella dying, and my spending large periods of time away in hospital/SNF have effectively caused her to have a serious stress disorder. Petal has eased some of her loneliness. But not enough. She and Shawn had as strong a bond as Purrbarella and myself. She's going to need a cone if this doesn't cease and soon.

My cleanliness is a step up for me tonight. PT really wanted me to try using my shower chair so Melissa came over to help me do so and to reach places like my back and feet that are out of my capability to stretch to due to my back and such trying to heal but having trouble doing so. Together we succeeded, though my dismay tonight at finding the lupus-style blemishes seem to have spread.

As I told Will, I'd rather worry about a lupus diagnosis than a cancer one. Perhaps those early tests that came back negative were incorrect as Dr. Young said they can be and her visual diagnosis is correct. There's definitely something amiss and the flush, raised blemishes, and open small spots that aren't like bites but more like tiny cuts - not really but I can't figure how else to describe them.

Right now I've Femme Pois under the blanket pressed against my right hip with Petal right against us both (her head is partially on her as you can see in the picture) and Lolita is on my left hip.

My legs have two pillows beneath my knees to keep them raised. My blood pressure was under 100 all day so no BP meds for me tonight. Will picked up my prescriptions from Dr. Stern (FINALLY called in!) tonight - he said he had to sign a dozen times! The filling of my pill case will be a more strenuous task this week.

I'm seeing Dr. Lucido on Thursday. My annual medical marijuana license gets handled by him. He's more expensive but I feel that having a doctor who has been one of the leaders in the battle for legalization makes me feel that though he doesn't (can't?) take insurance he's still more legit than a lot of the high turnover places. I've heard I could get my annual for half his fees but I don't know...it just seems more legit going to a doctor who is writing papers and such. Maybe I'm wrong, but over three years feels like he's yet another specialist I see who is one of the better doctors.

Which reminds me! The pain specialist I had multiple doctors recommend this last stay at Ashby Campus needs calling.

Okay. There's more but that's enough for now. I need to rest.

What A Nice Easter Sunday

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My Dad called first. Then my _Mom_ called(!). Them Melissa came by for an extended visit. Carl fulfilled his promise and visited with his surprisingly frightening false mustache. And Dr. Stern came by for a quick check on me. Finally Will brought my requested DVDs of the best Sweeney Todd with Patti Lupone and George Hearn (so I can get the terrible sounds of Tim Burton's version out of my head) and he placed Femme Pois and Zweite Ein on my bed.

Ein's snoring and FP's curled up under the extra comforter I threw over her, asleep. All three of us quite happy.

The cats should be here to make the feeling complete. Unconditional love in a pile of mutual comfort and comforting.

Will is coming to get them and drop off a few requests but this time with them has really made me feel relaxed and all my visitors have caused me to feel truly loved.

The feeling comes and goes but right now it is definitely more quietly happy than normal.

I _LOVE_ this version. Depp and Burton and Bonham Carter made a nice looking crappy sounding version that really makes Sondheim seem as if he wasn't thinking clearly when he "gave his blessing."

I'm here until insurance runs out this Thursday or Friday. No matter that I need an extra week. I can't afford to pay it on my own - I need the insurance paying it as I'm a disabled ex-housewife. So my extra week need has to not occur...

And on that note I'm going to focus on my babies and Sweeney as done perfectly.