The Cliffs of Insanity

I have two therapists: one a psychiatrist who medically treats my depression and PTSD since Aunt Tudi passed away, and the other is a psychologist, who helps me through these issues by talk and personal exercise. I had an appointment with whom I thought was my psychiatrist today and my psychologist on Wednesday. This morning, at 8AM sharp, I got a call from the doctor, telling me that my psychologist wouldn't be in today, and I would have to reschedule. I thought my psychologist appointment was on Wednesday. When I tried to call back, I was told that the office was closed, and that I'd have to call back.

Now I know why crazy people go see them. THE STAFF DRIVE THEM CRAZY. It's job security, see. Since going to this office, I feel like I'm going mad as a bag of cats.

Llew went to his family doctor today, who believes that this may be a case of Bell's Palsey rather than an actual stroke, since the effects are localised in his face and have effected his ability to speak in that it's like he's had a shot of Novocaine. He also changed his blood pressure meds since the meds Llew was on were apparently not working. We checked his blood pressure last night and it was 193/131. I tried to persuade him to go on to the E/R, since this was one of the danger signs noted on his hospital paperwork, but he flat refused, damned stubborn man. So.... I don't know what to think.....except I'm going to work on having him change doctors because the MRI indicated a clot in his brain and indications of TIAs. More grief. I hate that doctor of his.

Aunt Tudi has taken over household duties way too early. She just has to do it her way and insisted on wresting the laundry, dishes, vacuuming, and whatnot from my grip. I know I'm lacking in such things but damn! I feel like a total failure-slacker-loser. On the good side, she's doing fabulously with her hand. It has healed much quicker than her left hand. Almost immediately after her surgery, she had all the feeling back in her hand whereas, with her left hand, it took several months before the numbness went away. So I'm happy about that, but I'm really pissed that she's not following doctor's orders and letting me do what she usually does. I'd stop her but it's kinda hard to do if you're asleep in the middle of the night and she does a laundry or you're at work and she does whatever dishes were created at breakfast, or she vacuums the house. She's a sneaky old hag and I'm a total domestic failure.

This is Mike's unpaid week off at work. As a reminder, Mike is my route driver, the dude who delivers all the goodies I need on a daily basis at Rochling. The dude, David, who's covering for him knew nothing about Mike's route, so I figured he'd be late today. Mike usually arrives between 9 and 9:30 in the morning. David got there a little after 11, after the lunch rush (between 11 and 1) had started. So I had to try to fill the drink machines while people were trying to buy drinks. That's a tad difficult to do. It's not his fault. He was just thrown into the situation, which is no good considering Mike's route being very big and very difficult. But it threw me majorly late in what I do in the last half of the day and I expect tomorrow to be just as bad because David is off tomorrow and another guy who doesn't know diddly about Mike's route will be driving it. Whee!

My day didn't stop at 2. After 2, I was obligated to go get Fat Boy Boo Boo for his Spring shave-down. I picked him up at 2:30 and had him finished by 3:30. Easy-peasy except for one thing: I almost cut a skin growth right off the poor doggie. Boo Boo is a wire-hair Parson Russell Terrier, so his fur is medium length and very wiry. When I went to shave his tail down, it encountered what appeared to be a mat right at the end of it. I tried to shave it again, and Boo Boo was all like "OH HELL NO!" so I backed off. I took my shears and began to trim the area one teeny bit at a time. Then I saw it - it was a growth about a quarter inch long (a little over 6 millimeters for you metrically-inclined folk), just dangling obscenely off the end of Boo Boo's tail. So I had to shave his tail down, but trim his growth. His tail looked like crap as a result. Otherwise, the dog looked faboo, if I do say so myself, and Gwen was thrilled with the results of his Springtime shave.

Once I got home at around 4:30 from taking Boo Boo home, I set to clipping our dogs' nails since they could out tap-dance Mr. Bojangles in the state they were in. I'm so ashamed. I clipped all their nails, cleaned up the bathroom from Boo Boo's bath, cleaned my equipment and the table, put everything away, and took one breath. After the one breath, I went outside to feed the Backyard Pride and the Front Porch Pride and give them fresh water. The bowls of water were nasty, thanks to the almost three days of rain we had, so I cleaned out both bowls and gave them fresh water, then poured out the food to the delight of all the cats. Whilst outside, I got swarmed by mosquitoes and got bitten several times, but the worst bite was on the side of my index finger. That's an extremely uncomfortable spot to obtain a bug bite. I began to wibble. It was a little after 5 o'clock and I'd been awake and non-stop for twelve hours. Wibbling, I finished the feeding of the Prides and brought my achy arse indoors.

After all this, I began to ponder my mental state over the past few weeks. Many people have asked me how I was and where my mind was, as they knew I'd been under a lot of pressure. I could never adequately answer them until about an hour and a half ago. If you could crawl into my head and peer inside my mind, this is what you'd see.


I don't anything else needs to be said after that. It pretty much speaks for itself. I'll let it speak for me now.