homebody

I'm going to be off work for a while I guess. I saw my primary care physician on Monday because I needed a couple days off and I couldn't get into my psychiatrist. I burst into tears the second she walked into the room...I don't think she's seen me cry since I was like 7. Thus, she refused to write me a slip for two days...she insisted on a minimum of two weeks. I fought that pretty hard, but by the time I left the office I was resigned to that fact that she (and apparently everyone around me?) was right.

I've been working on getting better for about a month now, and I really thought I was on the mend when we got home from Florida and California. But when I went back to work I struggled. I couldn't joke around with my co-workers who eventually realized I was so touchy they didn't try. My hands have been shaking for weeks now...not so much a good thing when you're a phlebotomist. Halfway through my shift I just fade, which is usually about the time we get busy. One afternoon my stomach suddenly started to clench up, my chest tightened, and I felt like my whole body was shaking. My heart rate was over 120 and I was suddenly petrified about everything that I could possibly think of. It wasn't until all that subsided that I realized I'd had a panic attack.

I told my psychiatrist about this when I saw her a few days later. I hadn't had another attack so to speak, but I hadn't been able to relax much. She prescribed a benzodiazapine and sent me on my way with 3 months of all my meds, come back in 3 months. So she didn't really address the panic thing other than to give me 20 pills to use PRN. I was having a decent day though, so I didn't think much of it either.

The next day I had a severe panic attack at work. I managed to get off the donor floor just before I broke down, but just barely. I sat on the floor of the locker room bawling and quickly took one of the xanax. My supervisor came back, told me to take my lunch, and got me some kleenex. After 20-30 minutes I called my Mom to see what the onset was supposed to be for the xanax and to see if I should take another since I didn't really understand the label.

She didn't answer. Freaking out, I called my sister who had just been discharged form MGH that morning after gallbladder surgery. She immediately found my Mom (although I don't know how) and was in the process of trying to find Joe's work number before I agreed to leave work. Laura picked me up from work and brought me to her office while we waited for Joe, whom I'd pulled out of an interview to come get me. It was literally three hours before I calmed down and I took an entire milligram of xanax to get there. Eventually I just fell asleep, but had another minor attack that night.

I can't imagine what it's like for my family when I'm like this. They worry, they check on me, some of them seem to have a sixth sense...my Dad and brother Joe rarely call just to chat, but both of them did this weekend. Neither had any idea what was going on. What I think they've learned though is that I won't do the things I need to do to get better until I am ready. My Mom is really good about pushing me towards those things, but sometimes that results in me avoiding her altogether. She practically had to dial the phone for me to go see Dr. Kroll after sitting with me until I agreed to take two days off. The whole fam was very glad to hear I was taking time off.

I fought the doc hard on taking two weeks off. Actually, two weeks was a compromise. She said I needed to be off work until I was set up with a therapist and was effectively using other anti-anxiety techniques. She didn't change my meds because they really aren't at peak levels yet, but she did draw some labs. I haven't had labs done since August of 2006 and considering I'm on 6 different medications, it's time to check out my liver, etc. Another one of my Mom's ideas. She had me write down everything I needed to tell Dr. Kroll. Yesterday I finally came to terms with my need to be off work. I went into the center to drop off paperwork and what not for my leave of absence. I sat in the parking lot for 15 minutes collecting myself beforehand. When I finally went in I didn't even look at any of my co-workers, who are my friends. I went directly to the managers office, did what was necessary, and bolted from the building. I was about 2 blocks away and I had to stop and collect myself again.

So here I am at home. I don't feel better, I don't feel relaxed, I just feel lazy and upset that I can't function. What a piss poor attitude, hey? Mame told me I was not allowed to sit on the couch in my pajama's and eat bon-bons for two weeks (what the hell are bon-bons anyway?). I don't think I would do that anyway...TV doesn't do much for me.

So instead I've made a list of things I can do to keep myself busy-ish and to make me feel a little less useless for not working. The top of the list was finding a)a therapist and b) a new psychiatrist because Mame has finally put her foot down about my current doctor. Oh, and I eat Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia instead, as I've been addicted to it since we got back from California.

Finding doctors has proven problematic. I'm certainly not going to open the yellow pages and pick a therapist at random, but all the ones that been recommended to me are scheduling in the middle of March. Also, Marquette is kind of low on the psychiatrists, minus the ones at MGH, but those are also pretty scarce. So I'm still working on that.

In the three days I've been off so far I'm most bothered by my inability to multi-task. It killllllssss me. That's how I function, it's how I work. But I can't. So I have to choose one task for each day and take my time. I hate it i hate it i hate it. swear I'm not a negative Nancy all day long, this is just one of those moments.

I'm also on a (self-made) schedule, which I've based off of the one I was on when I was an inpatient. I'm not allowed to sleep past 8:00 and I have to be showered and dressed by 9:30. Joe comes home for lunch now which is good mostly because it forces me to eat. 3:00-5:00 is my free time...thats when I can watch TV or just relax on the couch or whatever. No naps though, I've just recently regulated my sleep. Dinner is around 6:30-7 and I'm in bed no later than 11:30. I've also decided I am going to update my blog at least every other day. Writing has always been therapeutic to me, so I'm going to start doing it more. Especially until I can actually see a therapist.

Since my appointment on Monday, Joe has suddenly altered his schedule - he goes to work for 8, comes home for lunch about noon, and tries to be home around 5. He has to bring work home, but that's ok. I really appreciate that he's coming home to be with me. I think he's frustrated because he doesn't know what to do to help, but this definitely will. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, he's is (as usual) being completely wonderful and taking exceptional care of me in anyway he can figure out. I'm very lucky.

Today my project is all about pictures. I'm getting photos together to send to Crystal and starting the process of finally getting pictures uploaded onto a photo sharing site. That's it. That's the whole day. I'm still not done. But at least I've got it rolling - it's totally ok if I have to finish tomorrow. I've got nothin' but time.

PS - Everybody chill out. Or at least don't let me know you're freaking out. It stresses me out when y'all freak out (y'all - practicing for the move down south). And I don't need stress - I'm fragile, remember? :) Probably don't call either - talking on the phone about this stuff gives me the willies. I don't need those either.

If you want, you can email me. Better yet, you can bring me Ben & Jerry's, because I DO need that. Currently, it's on sale 2/$5 at Walmart. I'm willing to clean out the freezer to accommodate multiple pints.

Look at that, I'm already not being such a Debbie downer. I knew this writing thing was a good idea.

crash

Things have been difficult lately; it's taken its toll on me and I would assume, in turn, on Joe as well. To say we've been stressed out is definitely an understatement. Joe has been working long hours (although I think he enjoys them), I'm not particularly happy with my job, and then there's the moving. The endless moving.

I haven't been well. Not surprisingly, I severely underestimated the effect all this would have on my mental health. I was at least three weeks too late getting myself to the doctor and have had to return almost weekly since the 8th of January. I haven't cycled in a long time, but I'm still bothered that I missed the signs. I suppose I shouldn't dwell.

I don't remember my last night of sleep that wasn't assisted by medication. The only night I tried to sleep naturally since starting the meds was horrifying - I had vivid nightmares that I found hard to separate from reality and felt like I was stuck somewhere between sleep and consciousness; it was as if my body was sleeping but my brain was still awake. I think I probably only slept for about an hour the whole night.

Even with medication, I'm not sleeping through the night most of the time. I wake up around 3 or 4 every day. I used to be up for hours, thinking about the most irrelevant things until I was finally able to drift off around 6 or 7, only to be woken by my alarm a few minutes later. Now when I wake up my brain doesn't have much to say - it just tells me that I'm awake, that I should see what time it is, and tells me if I can take another ambien and still be able to function in the morning. If there's not enough time, it tells me to lay back down and wait to fall asleep again, which still takes at least an hour. The controlled release form of the med didn't help much, so we're forever increasing the amount I take. I'm still having trouble with an 8 hour work day, but at least I'm not as exhausted as I was a couple weeks ago.

Moving out of our apartment was disastrous for me, which was made worse by the fact that it happened so suddenly. I spent a lot of time sitting on the floor and crying while I tried to pack or unpack things. Joe tried very hard to keep me out of the moving process, but he finally reached the point where he accepted help. Thankfully we got some helpful hands from my family, namely Mike and Laura, but it was still very hard. I was unable to go to work for a couple days and was barely functioning when I returned. By the time we were completely moved out and had cleaned the apartment it was Thursday and we left for Florida/California the next day.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't miserable the entire time we were gone. It had nothing to do with where we were - we had wonderful hosts in Florida and it was great to see Becky, Fonsi, and Christopher in L.A. But I was not in the right state of mind to enjoy myself. It took so much energy to try...even to just relax and watch a movie (which I didn't have the attention span for). We did what we could to make the best of our trip, but the only thing I wanted to do was go home. But I didn't know where that was...home to me was our apartment in Marquette on our couch in our living room, but we'd left that. The apartment was left empty, our couch in storage, and I couldn't even picture what our new living room looked like. It was a conscious effort to not stay in our room constantly and Joe had to guide me through my tears every night.

Poor Joe. I worry about him and how he's been dealing with this. While I'm certainly better than I was two weeks ago, I know I'm still taxing. He gets the brunt of my irritability, agitation, and anger. I fear he feels he's responsible for bringing recent stressors into our lives. But it's not about the stressors, its about how my brain and I deal with them. And since no one can control whatever cocktail of neuroreceptors my brain wants to mix up, that can be a toughie. He's been absolutely amazing thus far and I have no doubts that will continue....but I can tell that sometimes he's working hard to not be angry or annoyed with me, like at 2am when I ask him to stay awake with me until my sleeping pills kick in because I'm too afraid to let myself fall asleep naturally because of the nightmares. I know that would piss me off. And yet he's my rock, always understanding and supportive, always ready to let me drench his shirt in tears. I wonder if he knew what he was getting into.

So now we play the medication game, trading side effects for serotonin; headaches are tolerable if I can muster up the concentration to read a book, sweating is fine if I can just stop shaking with anxiety at work, nausea is manageable so long as I have interest in eating. I attribute most of my improvement, which has been relatively little, to the amount of sleep I'm forcing upon myself. The med I'm on is classified as "miscellaneous" anti-depressant, so I don't know what rules it plays by...I'm guessing it takes 2-6 weeks. This is the beginning of week three.

Its odd how one day your therapist tells you you're moderately depressed and the next you're forced to accept that you have a life long mental illness. Odder still is looking back on your life and realizing that you can't argue otherwise; seeing that everything you've ever done spells manic-depressive. But what I can't get over is even after all the hell it's put me through, I've forgotten to respect the condition. I can ignore it for as long as I want, but it will not ignore me.

Decisions, decisions

I hate waiting. Not at the Post Office or on the phone or in line at the grocery store. While annoying, those are all necessary waits that are only made longer and more difficult to weather if you allow them to bother you. So I don't mind waiting for the cute little old lady to count out her change when I only need milk. And I don't mind when the lone worker at the Post office is being monopolized by an impossibly needy person when I just need to buy stamps. But even the most patient person on earth will admit that there are some waits that are seemingly unbearable.

A month ago, Joe's company announced that they were looking to consolidate all of their U.S. operation under one roof....a roof in North Carolina. Everyone was told that their job was available to them in NC once the company was relocated, Joe included.

You would think most people in Joe's position would be upset/fearful about the idea of moving or possibly losing his job or the uncertainty of his future with his company. But not Joe. No, he was terrified of one thing and one thing only: asking me to move for the fourth time in two years.

And I'm not gonna lie, I'm not very impressed with the idea. I actually love the idea of relocating to North Carolina (took a little while to sink it, but now I'm on board with it) and the idea of actually getting outside my comfort zone (and Michigan). What I do not love, however, is the act of putting everything I own into boxes. And then taking it out again. Especially not for the fourth time in two years.

Now comes the waiting part. When they announced the relocation they weren't yet prepared to provide information on relocation packages, i.e. moving benefits, salary changes, etc. Those details are scheduled for release this week. So I should feel like the next person in line at the Secretary of State, right?

Wrong. Because while we'll get that information soon and will be able to use it to make our decision on whether to stay or go, those details will not include a time frame. So we might know we're moving but will have no idea when. Thus, I've gotten to the counter and the clerk has told me I need a document that I can only find at the County Clerk. Just one more line, right?

But wait, there's more! Our lease is up at the end of this month. We can a)sign a new lease b)stay here and pay a higher rent amount in addition to a month-to-month fee or c)move out of this apartment to a cheaper place with no lease that accepts pets and hopefully has a lot of storage because if you think I'm going to pack all my shit into boxes just to unpack them at a new place so I can turn around and put them back into the same boxes you're off your rocker. I'd rather hang myself. So basically the County Clerk just told me they don't accept plastic so I'll need to head to the bank. I can do this, I swear.

Just a few more bumps, right? I was planning on going back to school in the fall, but now I don't even know where I'll be living. I hate my job and want nothing more than to quit it and move onto something else, but there's a serious lack of something else around here. We'd probably need to go check out the area in NC, but we'll be in Florida and California from the 25th through the 2nd and we have to commit to our decision by February 12. Oh, and PS, Hilary Clinton is leading in the national polls and she scares the hell out of me, but we won't know how that pans out for about 10 more months.

Somehow, I'm back at the Secretary of State and they've told me to take a number. Currently, they're serving number 29. I look down at my piece of paper:

∞

(it's the mathematical symbol for infinity)

I hate waiting.

must...have...more...space...bags...

So apparently you're supposed to have a vacuum with a hose attachment in order to use space bags, but I've found that a little bit of body weight and a good set of lungs do the trick.

Problem is the goodness of my set of lungs is questionable, so I feel like I'm going to have an asthma attack at any moment...

But I'm still thoroughly convinced that everything I own needs to be stored in one of these bad boys. Bedding, pillows, jackets, sweaters, the cat...

Everything.

Must have more space bags, and possibly a refill for my inhaler.

Hooray for vacation!

Ahh, vacation. I'm catching up on sleep, enjoying some quality apron time (that's what my boss calls it when she hears me telling everyone I can't stay late because I need to go home and cook dinner), and getting a bunch of other small projects done. I haven't cleaned the house, but hey, I'm on vacation right?

Today I spent a large portion of my day sorting through bills, filing stuff, that sort of thing. I filled out the paper work for reimbursement through my health savings account, printed return labels for a few things we're returning to amazon.com, found my passport (not that it's any good to me now that my name is changed) and checked Hayzeus's medical records to see when his next set of vaccinations are due.

I spent at least an hour writing a scathing letter to MGH's Emergency Department because their billing department is completely incompetent. In November of 2005 I went to the ED's Walk-in clinic for some symptomatic treatment of a respiratory infection. They billed my Dad's insurance in November of 2006, a full year later. Basically the insurance company denied the claim because it was over a year after the time of service and because I was no longer receiving benefits from the policy. So then, three months later in February of 2007, MGH decided to bill me for it. I called to find out why it took them 15 months to bill me and they told me it was because the opening of the new ED caused delays. Piss poor excuse in my book, so I told them I was absolutely not going to pay the bill, especially since my insurance would have covered it if they'd submitted the claim in a timely manner.

They kept sending me bills and I kept telling them I wasn't going to pay it. Then, in August, my bill had a mysterious payment made on it. I soon found out that my Mom had made a payment on her account and they'd credited it to mine because we had the same first and last name. I called them and told them it needed to be credited to her account and the next bill they sent me had the credit removed, stating it had been transferred over to account #XXXXXXXX. So not only had they failed to double check they were applying it to the right account in the first place, they also listed my Mom's account number on MY bill.

It turns out that account numbers associated with individual patients are considered Protected Health Information. Can anyone say HIPAA violation?

But the last straw came today when I called them about a different bill. When I hurt my back at work I went to the Express Care clinic at MGH's ED. While I was there I game them the forms from my employer authorizing them to treat me and informing them of our worker's comp insurance company's name, address, and claim number. Still, I recieved a bill in the mail for the services provided to me that day. So again, I called to tell them they had their heads up their asses and they simply proved my point by telling me they didn't have any record of the letter from my employer authorizing them to treat me nor did they have record of our worker's comp insurance company's name, address, and claim number. I told the lady on the phone that I'd provided all of that information at the time of service, but she kept asking me for it as if I had it in front of me but was trying to keep her in the dark.

So I spent a lot of time tracking down my old insurance information, asking my Dad to look for the Explanation of Benefit forms to go along with the November 2005 visit, researching HIPAA, and composing an extremely curt letter for MGH's Emergency billing department, which I plan on sending copies of to the CEO of MGH, the Better Business Bureau, JCAHO, and maybe even my state rep, just because I can. I don't even care if they all think I'm some crazy person so long as MGH writes off my bill from November of 2005.

I also went to the dentist today and had the first of three crowns put on. It's weird having a whole tooth where I used to have fragments of one, but I'm pretty jazzed about it. I'm also excited because Joe and I beefed up our health savings accounts to pay for all my crazy dental work (and other health expenses he and I will certainly accrue) so the expense won't seem as painful for us.

The day after tomorrow we're going to my Mom's for Christmas. I guess that's Saturday, but I don't really know what day of the week we're on right now so I'm taking Joe's word for it. Right now I think I'm going to go make a beef pot pie with the left overs from last night's pot roast (and gravy, which I recently learned how to make from Joe's Mom!).

Christmas Time's a coming...

I think we're almost ready for Christmas. At least I am...but Joe says he still has major shopping to do (for me) this weekend. Ever since Thanksgiving we've been avoiding WalMart and most other shopping holes like the plague because of the crowds the holidays bring. While I've been able to do the majority of our Christmas shopping online or at small local stores we've finally reached the point where we need to go shopping for non-Christmas items - stuff like toilet paper, shampoo, etc etc. So tomorrow I'm going to try to get that done before work (at like 7:30am). Then I have a handful of things to pick up at the grocery store after work, no big deal. On Saturday Joe and I are both getting our haircut at the place in the mall (our stylist works there, we love her) and while he's getting his done I'll snag the last two items we need and then I'll get mine cut and go home. Joe says he's going to need a couple hours to shop for me.

After shopping we'll head out to my Dad's for Christmas there. I'm hoping to be there by 2 or so, but realistically we won't make it until 3 or 4. After we're done shopping we still have wrapping to do and then we need to get everything together for our trip to Joe's parents house on Sunday. We're still debating on whether or not we'll come home after my Dad's house and then leave from here on Sunday or if we'll just stay down there and leave from good ol' Little Lake. It will probably depend on how prepared we are to leave, etc. etc. Plus, we should come home and pet the cat before we go to Grayling...he'll never forgive us if we don't.

Tonight I have one last Christmas craft project I need to finish up and hopefully I'll get to do a little wrapping too. We also have to make an appearance at a co-worker's Birthday dinner. I probably should have done some wrapping and stuff last night, but we relaxed, had some pizza, and watched Pirates of the Caribbean 3. So today, tomorrow, and Saturday will be action packed days...but what's Christmas without chaos, right? :)

Random Christmas Stuff

We put our tree up last weekend while Joe's sister and brother were here. Much to our surprise, HayZeus hasn't destroyed it yet. He's actually made himself a little lair underneath the branches. More often than not (assuming he's not running around the house like a madman) he can be found here:

We also acquired a china cabinet from my Mom and Steve last weekend. Joe put all of the nice glasses and such we got for the wedding on display in it:

Apparently the cat thinks he's one of the nice things we got for the wedding.
On Thursday I stayed up wayyyy too late to finish up my contributions for the cookie exchange at work. I'd regretted signing up the instant I put my name down, but it was too late to drop out so I sucked it up and made up some bags of assorted candies. I don't like making cookies...I don't mind making the dough and putting the first cookie sheet into the oven, but after that I get bored/tired/distracted and I usually end up burning half of them. I try to stick to candy and bars instead.

Unfortunately, by the time I was done with everything on Thursday I was throwing things and swearing a lot. Nothing ever goes right when you're overtired and trying to dip truffles into chocolate that just won't melt correctly. On the plus side of things, I think I'm nearly done with my Christmas confections - I have a batch of Chocolate Raspberry Crumb bars in the oven now and have two more bar recipes I want to try.

Last night was my work Christmas party. The dinner that management put on was fine I guess, although you could tell half the people in the room didn't want to be there. That was the half of the room I was on....along with all of the people that had attended Andy's Pre-Christmas Party Party. We all got together at his house beforehand and worked on a quarter barrel of Bud Light...I think there were about 25 of us there. Words cannot describe my hangover today, but we all had a great time.

We also spent some time yesterday at Joe's co-worker's house for a cookie decorating party. I spent over an hour decorating cookies, and these are all of the ones I made:

Yeah, over an hour on four cookies. This is why I don't make sugar cookies.

Anyway, back to the kitchen to finish up. Then I think I'm going to catch up on ANTM and Grey's via the internet. Toodles~