Posted on November 28, 2012 in Depression Disappointment
The brain is a dark country. I travel there alone, lurching over its high roads and through its scourging vales. I believe that what happens to us is only a small part of our moods. The rest is a geology set down when we were in the womb, shaped by the fidgetings of life.
At times, I don’t like my own mind. I tell my therapist that this came from this and that caused this other thing. I despair because blame for my condition does not incite cure.
Posted on July 17, 2012 in Mountain Lions Neighborhood
Though I told my Facebook users that I feared the worst for the lion, Fish and Game seems to be following a So-you-wanna-be-around-humans-we’ll-let-you-live-around-humans” policy and sending it to a zoo.
Posted on June 26, 2012 in Anxiety Cancer Diary Cats Dogs Uncertainty
I must confess that I still feel a little selfish when I remind people that I am under stress — perhaps more stress than Lynn.
Posted on June 24, 2012 in Dreams
I have some obnoxious neighbors who are into obliterating things of mine. I go over to talk to them and explain to them that I am no threat. But they continue to harass me. Finally, just before I wake up, I discover one of them riding his motorcycle in circles around my back lawn.
My therapist suggested that this was a commentary on the recent stresses in my life, the one thing after another.
Posted on June 14, 2012 in Anxiety Cancer Diary
I’ve been trying to write this story for months, but the time and the motivation have not been there.
Two things tipped me off that something was wrong. First, I looked at my cell phone and realized that too much time had passed. Dr. Rettenmaier had promised a quick surgery — twenty five minutes — and now an hour and fifteen minutes had passed. Laparascopic hysterectomies were his specialties. The grin on his face had been confident and true. It was just a cyst. He did this all the time.
The disappearance of that grin when he came out to see me was the second clue. He led me into a small consultation room. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but the gist of it was that there was a malignant mass on Lynn’s ovary. He’d cut her open and removed the entire uterus including the cervix. He showed me a picture of a pile of bloody organs that he said was what he had removed. They looked like meat from a butcher.
His tone was grave. He made an effort to underscore that he hadn’t photo-shopped anything, that he had followed procedure, and that we were dealing with cancer. I’m sure the fact that I was bipolar danced in the back of his mind. I understand. He had probably dealt with plenty of husbands who, on hearing the news, wanted to shake him and tell him that he had made a mistake. My calm must have surprised him. I accepted fate and asked what questions my shaken consciousness allowed.
He let me call my mother-in-law so she could ask her questions of him. I don’t think she was any more thorough and coherent than I was. “How could this happen to Lynn,” her mother said to me after he returned the phone to me. Who had an answer for great matters of the universe as trivial in the greater scheme of things as this was. Dr. Rettenmaier told me to wait for the pathology report. He couldn’t tell me what kind of cancer it was without it.
Kay Redfield Jamison says that there is a big difference between bipolar depression and grief. I was feeling the latter now. I could walk, talk, see colors. Most distinctly, I could cry.
People in the waiting area who heard my news told me that this was the worst day, the day where you found out the fact and didn’t know the reality. The receptionist took pity on me and told me I could visit Lynn in the recovery room.
I stood by Lynn’s gurney. Her eyes flickered open. Had she heard the news. “What happened?” she asked. “You have cancer,” I whimpered.
“I have cancer?” she said, groggily.
“Yes,” I replied.
The nurse did not let me stay very long. They sent me up to the sixth floor of Hoag Hospital where I waited until they told me that I could go in. I used the time to call friends and family to tell them the news. Ovarian cancer, I kept murmuring to myself. The prognosis would not be good.
Posted on June 11, 2012 in Insurance Stigma
This is a peeve I’ve had for a long time. I can understand the reasoning, but I don’t like the additional implications. Due to the media, folklore, and other cancers of popular culture, the phrase “mental patient” acquired some bad connotations. Some people didn’t want to be labeled with it because they had been wrongly committed back in the days when psychiatrists called anything that moved “schizophrenic”. Others didn’t want to be painted with an ax in their hands.
But the phrase we replaced it with was “mental health consumers”. I am all for mental health — isn’t that the reason why I am on so many medications? — but the notion of me being a “consumer” irritates me. It suggests that I am in Psychiatry Land because I am looking for a high or because I am looking for the latest brain fashion accessory. Out there, there must be a mental health superstore — a “Moods-R-Us” where I can pick and choose from the latest manias, depressions and mixed states, each colored to match my attire ((I have a friend who showed up to her psychiatrist wearing ultra-bright clothing. The shrink said “Are we feeling a bit manic today?” “No,” my friend said. “We are feeling depressed and the only clothes we have to wear are the ones we bought when we were manic.”)) .
There’s a worse implication here: consumer suggests whim. It suggests that our syndromes are less devastating than other physical conditions. Do we hear talk of diabetes consumers or cancer consumers? “Oh, yes, I would like some Taxol to go with my new uterine tumor.” People would rise in anger and cry out in rebellion.
If we are just consumers, then our illnesses aren’t serious and don’t deserve insurance coverage. That’s the bottom line here. It’s a door to disenfranchise us from decent health care. And no one who suffers from genuine psychiatric conditions should just stand by and allow that to happen.
Posted on June 8, 2012 in Class Hatred Liberty Morals & Ethics Spirituality and Being
Greed and hate are not signs of freedom, but of slavery. Free yourself.
Posted on June 6, 2012 in Elections
I believe pre-election polls should be outlawed. There is no reason for them other than to provide a bit of puffery for the news. And I think they have the effect of lowering participation in elections. People see that their candidate is, according to the poll, slated to lose, so they don’t show up.
This is a constitutional amendment I would get behind. There should be only one election, not several.
Posted on May 22, 2012 in Campaign 2012 Class
If anything, Mitt Romney is an anti-businessman.
Posted on May 16, 2012 in Accountability Campaign 2012 Gender Hatred Propaganda
Let me get this clear: I am not gay. But according to the Radicals of the Tea Party (who really don’t care about gay marriage except to excite the fear-driven) I must be homosexual because I support same sex marriage. And I have supported it for many years — about 24 to be precise.
To tell you the truth, the idea of sleeping with a man repels me. I much prefer checking out women — adult women. But I accept that there are people who are drawn to their own sex and that it is innate to them, not the result of rape or poor parenting or whether they drink lattes at Starbucks. I do not accept marriage as a child-producing union, though it is probably a better idea that you have a partner when you start having children. This idea categorically places Lynn and I out in the cold, yet we have remained partners for 25 years.
Marriage is about choosing a person to be a relative that transcends blood relations. It cannot change facts of fatherhood: one DNA test can undo the presumption of parenthood. But what it does is ensure that my wife and I can form a financial corporation of a sorts together. It lets me say that Lynn can make medical decisions for me — recognize the fact that I trust her before most of my own blood relatives in these affairs. When I die, it ensures that my share of the wealth generated by our household goes to her. Where do there need to be children in this? ((Though marriage does help recognize children and preserve family wealth for them, too.))
Why not let people of the same sex have these same contracts without resort to legal legerdemain? Homophobia — which is hatred and fear, nothing more — just isn’t a reason.
But let’s get back to the real issues: we have a candidate for office who is a corporate raider. To hide his moral depravity, he trots out this issue. He has put people out of work, destroyed companies, and wrecked communities for the purpose of amassing wealth. Mitt Romney is a dangerous man and he is playing a dangerous game by playing the gay card.
Focus on him for what is he is: the champion of the 1%, the man who picks your pocket and wrecks your home life with his financial manipulations and favors to the rich and corporations. ((And if you are religious, God does not like the rich. And He expects the state to protect the poor. Read the prophets like Jeremiah, Isaiah, and the minor prophets. To believe otherwise is heretical and unChristian/unJewish/unMuslim.))
Posted on April 24, 2012 in Anxiety Dentition Dogs Health OCD Spirituality and Being Whines
Let me count the ways the events of the past few months have screwed me. Note that there may will be additions as the weeks pass…so keep checking this article. It will be a mega-whine!
YES I KNOW IT CAN BE WORSE AND THAT IS WHAT WORRIES ME!
Everyone is telling me that “things will get better”. I sigh and reread Job.
At least Lynn’s chemo is over and the scans are looking good. And Obama won.
Posted on March 23, 2012 in Cats Grief
We put Fiona down at 5:45 PM Pacific Daylight Time.
She appeared to have pancreatitis and something that was damaging her liver in a big way. It was going to cost us $2000 to have a 50-50 chance of keeping her alive. We had already put down $2500.
I think the vet encouraged me because he did not want me to lose her in the middle of my wife’s cancer crisis.
I chose to stop trying. I feel bad.