Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

Ow. How Many Spoons Per Person Per Day?

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Here's some of an oldie but goodie. There's a long segment but it is too big. So I'll just share the enforced by pure sunshine bit. Here, drink this, ignore the irradiated tummy each of you now has.

But my pain is getting worse. I'm very scared because I've run out of spoons. Today I've been close to crawling to get around. Too sick to walk the dogs around the block. Luckily I could sit on the steps out front and they went there so I only had to hobble out back to the trash.

There are so many more things I need to accomplish and I doubt I can do any more which drives me nuts. Laundry. Clean fish tank. Change the cat litter and wash out the box to start with fresh litter and vacuum the area. I need a good vacuum but Shawn has ours so need to buy a replacement. I've used up all my spoons this past two weeks.

I would get a shot of Cortef to help but I'm going to talk to Dr. Linfoot about finally getting that Vitamin K shot series that never has happened. Not even when he ordered it when I was in Alta Bates last October. Taking mega Vitamin D doses once a month. But I need more help to combat this nightmare of pain.

Nobody knows how desperately I wanted doing these things to help. Instead it's getting worse. And I've no spoons to do the most basic things. Not even watching cartoons distracts from this state.

I can't hold on for much longer. I want to be happy. To have the ability to walk my dogs or eat something without it causing incredible pain and nausea. I give up. Really truly hurt so bad that I feel as though I can't see how I'm getting to Lafayette safely. Driving by myself. I can do it. I have no choice.

Second person to interview tomorrow. Scheduling a webcam interview with a person moving here from NY, as well. Still receiving applicants. I should repost it though. Fresh blood etc.

Right now a hug from a good friend would help so much. But that's another fantasy. When I get this sick it's annoying to listen to me go on and on about it. I'm aware of that. However it's a million billion trillion times worse to be in a state that causes such monotonous behavior.

Come watch "Sunday In The Park With George" with me. It can be your good deed of the month. I would rather watch Sondheim's musicals than lay here crying from the pain. The spoons won't be needed for a few hours with company distracting me from what's happening.

The Week Ahead (The Weak)

I'm beyond confused as what to do and how to manage what feels far over my head. Struggling even to walk the dogs. I try to make certain I accomplish one major responsibility a day, not including the walk.

So (for instance) I changed my sheets, which never happened when whatshername was here.

I have three major doctor appointments this week. Endo, therapy, pain specialist. A full week. I have two returns and two personal for the mail. Refund of a score sold to put through. Repost of the score. Facts to get faxed by doctors to Farmers Ins. Prescriptions to refill and pickup.

Oh gods there's too much. And most of it's beyond my capabilities since my ability to multitask has gone. I have a difficult time focusing on even _one_ thing.

Insomnia due to everything obviously just exacerbates the cognitive troubles and neurological malfunctioning. Needless to say the physical aspect.

Wrote to landlord about moving to a less expensive apartment using the divorce as a motivation but really I need a first or single level place as well as saving money. I'm wondering if I could indeed do this with a live-out caregiver. The list has very few things that I couldn't "outsource" for a reasonable amount.

Use Safeway to deliver, hire a person to come do chores, and another to drive me to appointments, etc. And maybe even to walk the dogs once a day for an extended walk vs the short ones I can offer.

Which reminds me: need to rest and get ready to walk them shortly.

Sunday In The Park With Ein & FP

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My dogs just had a mutual drag session with me. Took them to the park so they could have more than just a "poo walk" with me. I'm beyond wrecked - but they had a great time and wore themselves out for the first time in far too long.

Harsh Real Truth

To be disabled and with no help is incredibly heartbreaking. Only the few who help when they can keep any hope in the heart.

But ever since receiving altered divorce papers and receiving no local help when actually begging for it to try to save a beloved pet there isn't a hell of a lot left inside.

The choice to go forward with legally assisted suicide as soon as possible didn't _need_ the extra disappointments on top of the almost unceasing pain. But it certainly cements the knowledge that few will honestly mourn the loss of someone they couldn't be bothered to even visit - even when hospitalized.

Bitter? Yes, a bit. But being disabled and alone and etc even when incredibly sick and to not have anybody give care that attempts to meet the output given during such traumas.

It's dumb to care. To "give up" is not the correct way to look at it. Laying down this burden of pain with all the sorrow laying atop it just makes sense.

Application to join Dignitas getting handled. Same with finding out legal status of a person suffering and applying for Amsterdam residency in any way possible. Or Vancouver.

Can a person claim a status of some type from the government based on the originating country effectively keeping a person alive in huge amounts of pain against the sufferer's will?

The truth is there are a few out there who appear to genuinely care. But a majority don't. And perhaps that's okay. But some people get sick. And the more sick they become, the more friends drop out of their lives. And if a time comes when everything points to a continual attrition then the time to face it and move toward a working escape from the pain. Perhaps repetitive, but the sorrow of all the loss and betrayal just covers the nausea and pain like a smothering blanket.

The ones who help know themselves and have received public accolade.

Half The Errands, Thanks To Carl

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Carl met me at the lab after I had my blood drawn for my Dr. Linfoot appointment. He drove me all over as we tried to find the dispensary that has medicinal ice cream. Never found it so that's something to try to get sorted.

Target refunded the double charge and I purchased a few things I needed.

PetCo meant fish food and filters, as well as some wheat grass that all three can feel free to eat as needed, and replacement cardboard for two scratching areas.

Dogs registered and fully legal as far as Oakland is concerned. Three years registration and tags are on their collars. Found a shiny collar for Lolita.

Taco Bell for veggie blood sugar fix with root beer chaser.

Walgreen's for prescription pick up and packing tape for mail that needs to go out.

And finally back home for me to have more of Carl's wonderful assistance before he headed off to run his own errands.

I'm having bad steroid flush currently, with a huge amount of pain. But I need to walk my dogs before it gets too much later. I think I'll feed them now and walk them in a couple of hours.

Still having applicants for the room in exchange for assisting me. Interview number one tomorrow.

I think my body hates me and I know I need rest and relaxation more than anything other than my meds. But I still had Tracy's help and now Carl's. A week between visits and help BUT they make up in quality most definitely.

There's so much more, but need to take it very slow or else I'll do more harm than good by a metric ton. I'm ridiculously ill but if it's kept under control I can continue to keep the pets and apartment in clean condition.

Need to get mail sorted. Including returns. But the state of my piles of chores is slowly inching toward a respectable and less overwhelming series of piles of things needing completion. Okay. Now to collapse for real.

Trying Out Super 8 For Remembrance And More Venting

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I'm close to adrenal crisis or whatever is going to explain my bright red face, my dimming and blurring eyesight, and the rest of what's collapsing me. I've had to take recycling, compost, and garbage out. Add dog walks, dishes, and other things I've had to do that I can't.

My sheets haven't been changed and it's going to kill me but it's a huge necessity as is cleaning up after this last psycho. How can a person claim - never mind.

My therapist, the only Candice I want in my life, called me today. She's going to get insurance handled and I'm seeing her next week.

I have to do a blood draw. Get prescriptions. Get Target overcharge fixed. Mail returns and mail to Shawn and Mom. Do laundry. Put dishes away. Find a new assistant before the wave of everything literally kills me. Painfully. No hyperbole or melodrama.

I wasn't exaggerating when it came to Purrbarella and the same goes for me and my health. I'm killing myself due to the last person's backstabbing and Machiavellian behavior. Up until I didn't let her take the car without me since I'm unsure of insurance coverage currently. Then she stopped doing anything except bare minimum of dog care. As I wrote before we both gave notice on the same day. Only she gave me three days notice.

I've had no care for a week or so. And I won't for at least another week as it stands now. So I'm in my lovely apartment with a nice sunny large room that's completely empty. I've no idea what to do. I can't hire anybody to come in because I have rent covered and utilities too.

I could use help. I hate needing help. I especially hate needing help and asking for it and not getting any real responses. I wish I was healthy and could do everything like I used to.

Funny how I had more friends when I was healthy and not only self-sufficient but also capable of helping others. Now I'm sick and going in and out of hospitals and being bedridden there are fewer and I'm more alone than ever. How pathetic this post is.