Soap Opera Season Has Begun
It’s only day three of Spring training for the Red Sox and already it’s turning into a circus. Hanley can’t handle a throw from shortstop so gave Boegarts an error. I am lucky I didn’t see it because I would have been pissed. I am pissed just hearing about it. Then later this evening, a female Sox reporter resigns because her love life can’t include a member of the Sox. Supposedly she had relations with the skipper, Farrell. Whether these relations are continuing or have ended, hasn’t been publicly announced. I don’t understand what business it is for the press to be involved in such matters but they are just looking for a story. And it has begun. I am sure the drama at first base will continue as well as this developing story of the skipper’s love life. I wonder if baseball is going to get covered at all…
I texted my therapist several time today. I was giving her updates on the status of my appointment with my psychiatrist, which I still don’t have. My psych has not responded to the multiple emails I have sent her. I waited a good amount of time for a response. We’ll see if I get one on Monday. I am not going to bother emailing on the weekend, unless something comes up.
I also told my therapist that a slime ball inspirational speaker wants to meet my ex-therapist. I don’t know why I should care but I do. I wanted to respond with “yea, he is a great guy (therapist), but you are an asshole” but I didn’t. This guy, the speaker, pisses me off and I don’t know why. I am sure jealousy is an element on some level. He wrote a book about his experience with jumping off a bridge and surviving. When he was a teen. He is now an adult. I just find his story suspicious and every one is oooing and ahhhing over him. I understand how it is to go through a suicidal episode but you cannot tell me that he hasn’t once thought of ending his life since that day he was rescued. That he is “cured” of being suicidal. And I think that is what pisses me off about him, that he is selling something that isn’t true. I have never heard his story or read his book, so I really don’t know if there have been other suicidal episodes that he discloses. And yes I will admit to being jealous because I too wrote a book about my experience and got fucking no where with it. The only time I get an acknowledgement from the same people this clown hangs around with is when I write academic papers. Other than that, people don’t want to hear my daily struggle with suicide.
I am glad I have this blog because, honestly, I have met some pretty great people that are better than these professionals that I have met on Twitter. There is one clinician that will acknowledge me every now and then, but it’s mostly my physical pain that he responds to. I don’t know when I became a bitter person. Probably when the lab shafted me after 14 years of giving them 110% every time I worked no matter my mental or physical illness was doing to me. I was a body to them and a brain they needed to sort through the shit and foul ups of others. I’ll never forget when a resident came by the lab with four tubes of CSF and had no fucking clue what she wanted tested but expected us to know. Then when one of the tests were short, she didn’t know the difference between mad cow disease and Alzheimer’s. Really??? You are post medical school and studying neurology and you don’t know the fucking difference between these two diseases other than they affect the brain?? I memorized her name because I didn’t want to go near her. Course it has been some time now and I have forgotten it. My memory is not the same as it once was. I do know she became a pedi-neuro. Pretty scary that some parent is going to be trusting her with the life of the child.
Oh and before I forget, again, my oldest niece just published her first paper on E. Coli. I am so proud of her. It was a very HUGE accomplishment and there was a huge collaboration as the author lists just go on and on. She is listed as an acknowledgement but that is still pretty good.
I read the “do I need therapy” blog tonight because my therapist wanted me at my last session. I think it was a stupid blog because I repeated myself several times. I still don’t know what point I was trying to make. Maybe that I felt obligated to be in therapy because I feel like I owe my therapist that much. And I don’t mean monetarily wise. Like I told her in that session, I could owe her nothing yet I still would feel like I did.
My back is really hurting me. I need to lie down but if I go to sleep now, I know that I will wake up at three in the morning. I also want to keep checking my blog stats because I am 4 views away from 60,000. I haven’t taken any pain meds yet. I will once I feel a little more settled down. I got a lot on my brain.
I wonder if I should be in the hospital. I have been against it because there is no treatment there. You just get watched and drugged up and then sent home. Plus with my pain meds, they always fuck it up and I need to request it the way I take it at home rather than how it is written. I have been telling my PCP to change it even before he left but he still just left it at 1 pill every 6 hours. I usually take 2 pills twice a day, some times more, sometimes less. It all depends on what my level of pain is. He knows this and never changed it so I am screwed. Now he is gone and no one asks me if my meds are adequate. But the hospital won’t see it that way. I always get stigmatized about it. And don’t get me started on the pain scale I have to fill out at every single dose. That pisses me off more than the fuck up. Then I got to pack appropriately, write out my medication list, and be sure I can carry all the stuff on the public transportation. Last time I brought a backpack and a carry on. I was in an AFO at the time, so it took some maneuvering to carry everything. My bags were full because I had to carry at least a book or two in addition to my journal. I also carried a notepad with me just in case writing hit me. It’s been almost a year and a half since my last hospitalization but I remember it as if it were yesterday. I don’t really care what becomes of my father’s medication if I do go in. It’s not that hard, really. My sisters could do it if they chose to.