Archive for the ‘Facts About Patient Anonymous’ Category
I’m home right now. Had to bring some things back. Everything I’m taking will not fit in a single car, trip back and forth. Unless you rented a truck? I’m Next of Kin. MINE!
My Transpo got waylaid too. Just have to sit and wait for my driver to come tomorrow.
There’s been a lot going on since Mom died. Well, that’s quite an understatement if you’ve ever had to deal with someone’s entire life since they’ve shuffled off “This Mortal Coil.” That one’s okay. The Band. However, every single person has said some variation of “Pass.” Passed, Passed On, Passing, Passing On.
Being a writer, I not only love every single letter that creates a word, but also words themselves. Then, that creates more love and lust for everything. Including, but not limited to: odd, emotionally laden, archaic phrases and expressions. Many times they can be all three. Perhaps this “Pass” business fits in there somewhere. Despite that possibility, I’m too exhausted to learn at this moment. It just strikes me as rather unusual.
Why won’t anyone say anything related to death? We’re also talking about multiple generations! Those of her generation, me and my sister, then my sister’s children! She died.
None of these people are Buddhist. If anything, I should be saying, “Passed On” because of my Buddhist beliefs.
Moreover, you can practise Buddhist beliefs and philosophy without the entire issue of coming back in another life form. If you disagree, come talk to me. Buddhism isn’t always that peaceful either. Monks from differnt sects have gone ballistic; yelling and screaming, throwing things to actually injure each other. Quite amusing.
Things haven’t been that bad for me though. At least physically.
I have a lot of feelings about my Mom dying. About my Mom living! Many of them conflicting, confusing, painful and sorrowful. Anger too. I also know happy, funny and not necessarily so negative. Although, there is one thing I did not question at all, not for a second. As soon as I knew she was going to die (ultimately of bone cancer) not after she died, I would never be the same person again.
That can happen, right?
Am I wrong here?
Things have been so out of control, trying to deal with everything in a practical manner, I haven’t had any time to process a single thing. Maybe a tiny shred of some emotion has managed to reach the surface, but it’s been very brief. Only then, a few tears have escaped, and rolled down my cheeks. But no matter what, I refused to let any more out.
Unless I was on my own. Then I could cry. Sometimes, many tears would come out, yet I couldn’t identify why or what on earth I was feeling. What was the trigger? What was making me cry?
There was another reason why I would only cry alone. It was much stronger, and my mind was crystal clear regarding this situation!
I’m staying at my “Dad’s” place. I’m only calling him that because everyone else is. I still don’t feel he’s actually my Dad. I kicked him out of my life over 15 years ago after he stole $5,000 from me. Well, I caught him. Then it took forever for him to pay me back. That was just the final straw.
I’m now being reunited with many extended family members on his side. After cutting them off for more than 20 years? They’re all hugging me, telling me how much they love me, how so, so sorry they are about my Mom. Gee, that’s not more to deal with, is it?
So I’m DEFINITELY not crying in front of them! I’ve already had enough “touchy-feely” from you, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be of any help dealing with all of this from a Hospital Psych Ward. Some days, I feel like I should be in one. Some days, I feel like I’m already in one!
When this is over, I have no idea what is going to happen. It’s going to happen anyway though, so there’s no point in worrying about it. You can’t rush grief. You just go through it.
ASIDE: my friend who is taking care of my mail and apartment while I’m away just popped by. He told me his friend died today. I couldn’t believe any of my senses. We’re both friends with a guy in my building who knew the deceased. Looks like we’re going to have a grief party.
Well, I can try. Second night at Dad’s now. My sister and uncle just blasted into the room as she flew in from across the country. Things are now getting more and more stressful as I’m coming face to face with extended family members I kicked them out of my life (including my father in the next room.) I did so because they would give you Ebola through a simple phone call.
When I saw my sister, I started crying because I haven’t seen her a bajillion years. She was pretty cold, ambivalent maybe? Both? She did complement my shoes.
Still running on fumes. Actually had a full meal today. For dinner a Bison Burger! Welcome to Canada! You wouldn’t see that on every restaurant menu though.
Tomorrow I have to go the Funeral Home with my sister and pay for the Cremation. A financial glitch, but I would have done it anyway! She was my mother!
I’ll get reimbursed. It will be covered by a Government Pension Mom was receiving. Of course, I know to get a Death Certificate. When dealing with Estate Laws you ALWAYS get multiple copies of Death Certificates for everything that you have to handle.
I meant to write more about my feelings and emotions. There is just so much going on. A concoction of business, chaos, miscommunication and exhaustion. It doesn’t leave much time for even the slightest pause or glimpse into one’s inner thoughts, and time to reflect upon them. Right now, I’m either the walking dead (bad pun) or functioning on a UFO’s Autopilot System.
That expression formally endswith six. Someone I worked with used to say it all the time. With six.
He’d do it out of frustration, when he’d made a mistake, when somebody was going through a hard time to help or cheer them up, and always while joking.
I never understood what the expression meant. I’d never heard it before up until that point in my life. I’d always gone along with everyone else at work. I laughed and smiled. Inside? I felt like a total goofball.
At one point, he and I were alone. I felt totally awkward and ashamed (why?) We both loved each other. A lot.
NOTE: some Asperger’s behaviour with all of this? Can you see that? Plus, a lot of my colleagues were mean. Must hide.
So, I finally asked him.
“S., what on earth does that expression mean? You’re always saying it, everybody else seems to know. What the ‘fuck’…hahaha…is it some kind Orgy Rule?” We were both in stitches when I said that.
After we both gathered composure, he told me to think about it. THINK ABOUT IT???You, little… I have thought about it! That’s why I’m asking! Doofus.
We were both in our 20’s. He was a few years younger. Since we were so close (damn near in love with each other) he enjoyed with great pleasure to tease and embarrass me while working. In front of the public! Anything to make blush. Which can happen before a hat enters a room to drop anyway.
I told him to fuck off and just answer the damn question. Otherwise, I would beat it out of him. Which would be impossible without many weapons. I’m tiny. Even though he was thin, he stood about 6’1″ To hug me, he’d almost have to pick me up. Especially if I wasn’t wearing shoes.
Anyway, for those who do not know, the expression means that you tell everyone in your life to yes, fuck off, screw themselves, go to hell etc. Except for only six people.
Why? You need six Pallbearers to carry your Casket when you die.
I was almost on my knees, laughing so hard. I could barely breathe. It was a good thing he was right beside me so he could pick me up. I really was that close to falling. He just smirked, satisfied he’d almost made me look, once more, like a fool in front of the public.
My number two? Well, I’m wearing almost “Death Bling.” Two of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen.
A very close friend I met so long ago “gave” me his Cross. He was also a very close lapsed Catholic. I dare you to find me a bigger one. However, his Mother was extremely Devout.
She gave him his Cross when he went fully through all the Stations. Confirmed as a young boy. If she ever saw him without it, the Bible and more would hit the fan!
One night we were drinking and fooling around, being our idiot selves and I took it. I put it on, making jokes about how Catholic he was, I was the better one by not being Catholic at all!
I went home, and realized I still had it! HIS MOM!!! I called and left a voicemail. Nothing. This went on for YEARS.
Constant contact back and forth.
“Yeah, later.” ‘Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow.” “Let me send you an email in a couple of days.” “Don’t worry, I know it’s in a safe place.”
He died and I found out after the fact. What about his Cross?! It was “missing.” His Mother. Did G. tell them anything? I never got a phone call. Granted, my number is unlisted. But he knew where I lived.
Some people later told me after all those years, the constant excuses, never coming to get it, questions before dying? It meant something. What? I was totally clueless.
They said it was because he wanted me to have it. I still didn’t understand and couldn’t grasp that concept. In fact, it still seems a bit odd to this day.
After a few years though, I think I might have figured out why.
I knew he had ADHD roughly 10 years before I knew I had ADD! He confided in me, something he’d never told anyone else. His Mother had Mental Health Issues. And all around, I was the only person who really understood him. No words were ever said about it. I don’t think he could have put any letters together to start a sentence for it!
The cross is gold. 14K. Maybe an inch high so proportionate. It has the entire Lord’s Prayer in Relief on it!
ASIDE: Relief is a Coin Collecting Term. It means any part of a coin that is raised. The higher you can feel it, and the cleaner it is on the coin (and the cleaner the coin itself) the better Relief. Then, it is extended to all metallurgical engraving.
The second piece of jewelry is from my Nana. My Mom’s Mother. I loved it so much, even as a child. I actually became so bold when a teenager, I asked if I could have it when she died! She just laughed and said of course I could.
It is beautiful and obviously sentimental. A locket shaped as a shield. 18K. I can’t even begin to describe its complicated and intensely gorgeous engraving.
Inside, there are two little pictures. One of her husband, my Grampa, a dashing, young man. The other, a baby picture of my Mom.
Neither of these are coming off until? Definitely not until we take care of Mom’s Estate! And probably longer. Definitely longer.
Are they still called that or can we just put a blanket name of “Snobby Pretentious Useless Fucktards” over them?
I’m in my old stomping grounds. Old friend and I had lunch and hang time until got my hair done. After, I popped into the coolest pub I’ve ever seen in the city. Not that I’ve seen them all, but this is cool without trying to be. And for other reasons.
Sure it’s a pub but families come here ALL THE TIME. Reference to time? There’s a five-year-old here, well past bedtime, but he’s surrounded by lots of responsible family members.
Call some kind of Family Services Agency? I say no. If anything happened, every single person would be right on it to help.
But that’s a little heavy duty and strays from this Establishment’s Coolness. And the baby blanket people I hate. Misplaced Gentrification as well, but let’s not bother with that now.
This place has managed to combine pieces of historical politics, art, pop culture and more all over the place. It’s a crazy amalgam, but totally awesome MUSEUM.
It’s like a puzzle when you first look at it. Totally overwhelming. But give yourself and your eyes a chance to relax and you’ll be amazed. Everything will fit.
Or it won’t. But it will somehow. Just look. That’s art.
Music? Some Live Bands. Otherwise, great music that will be up tempo, down tempo, reggae, more that will just make you feel relaxed and… HAPPY!
So I’m outside having a cigarette and I see this couple, could they be more bewildered, asking, “What is thi…do they serve foo…”
I replied, “It’s a really awesome pub. Go in. And they serve foo…”
They turned their heads and marched away before I could show them the menu on the window.
Good thing they walked away. They should have been turned away.
I’m exhausted. Both my head and my body need a serious break.
Two new drugs. Side effects. One of the two pulled for several reasons. The last drug to treat the problems. The problems are still there. The drug is new so who knows what will happen. You’ve just started the drug, so you need more time to see if it works, and the side effects go away.
I DEFINITELY needed a break the day my uterine biopsies were done. My OB/GYN did them last week.
Although, before I continue, this Post might be a bit much for the squeamish. So consider yourself WARNED.
It was the second most painful procedure I’ve gone through in my entire life. The first being the insertion of a urinary catheter while just lying on an examining table. The Doctor put it in faster than completing the sentence:
“Okay, this is going to hurt a bit.”
I screamed at such massive decibels. I still wonder to this day if I didn’t scare the hell out of all the other women in the waiting room. Or perhaps, only dogs could hear me.
I don’t remember if any women were in the waiting room. I was like 18 tornados trying to find the exit doors when everything was done. This was for ongoing UTI’s.
I have no clue what my OB/GYN was doing for her biopsies. However, I can say she’s thorough? Holy shit. Or holy blood?
I have a new Fibroid, the lining of my uterus is fuller, thicker etc. Basically, a lot more blood and tissue for an egg to implant, but not good as my Fibroids are taking up space there too.
The biopsies, though? They’ll be benign. THEY.
I could “feel” her almost slicing me up all over the place!!! Not like a simple “Punch Biopsy.” Those are like a small poke. You feel like you’ve just been vaccinated with a large needle.
After we were done, she told me quickly, “Move up the table. Move up the table. I don’t want to get any blood floor.”
Like I said, she must be…thorough?
She told me to relax, take my time, I did a great job (she said that as we were doing it, I could take a break.) It took me so long to actually move, then clean up, then try to get dressed…they actually sent a nurse to check on me.
Ah, I love Medicine! I wonder what my hysterectomy will be like?
My OB/GYN is lovely though. Only two things to note for the anaesthetist:
1. Not to be picky, but if you’re thinking about Propofol? It makes me sick. Midazolam, please?
Granted, those were only for less invasive things I’ve had done. Still, no Propofol in your Alchemy.
2. DO NOT forget I’m on Propranolol. I’d like to wake up after surgery.
Just mentioned on Twitter that I’ve got WP back up and running on my mobile. Hopefully more Posts soon?
I’m just starting Propranolol. Been a month now and the side effects are kicking my ass off. However, in a good way? Like I’m trippin’ out on significant levels of Opiates.
I’m still feeling pretty gonzo with my second dose. I’m 40mg bid now. NOTE: Update Meds Page.
Later. It can wait. I took my second dose not long ago.
Why Propranolol? Based upon a fairly educated guess, I’m now dealing with chronic migraines. It can be used for prevention. Maybe kicked off from when I had every sign of a Stroke, and was chucked into hospital last summer.
Wow! This is a bit of a Post! Writing it when I feel like I’m in between being on Morphine and Heroin.
Not that I’ve done Heroin. Am I spelling it correctly? Have I slept with a Heroine? Do I need one? Holy crap! Damn straight I do! *laughing*
No, I’ve just talked to people who have used it and what it was like for them; what they experienced. Did I ever find out what some people can experience!
Utterly fascinating! I realized why so many people could become addicted to it.
I’ll also say it’s utterly fascinating why I’m getting stoned out my mind. Well, it is to me because I really get off on Pharmacokinetics.
I’ve gone through every med I take and found the answer. Plus extra stuff which is just icing on the cake.
Super-awesome Post to write, but hells bells no, not now! I can’t even handle this screen anymore.
An afterthought to my last Post “Forever Bullied.”
MOTHERSHIT PSYCHOPATH talks a lot of trash. It’s like backward primordial ooze but coming out of a Heroin Junkie’s Wormhole. Or some hole.
I could get her to pour her ooze out through her fists. C’mon small talker. I dare ya.
Here, when someone reports any type of assault, no matter how big or small, legal action does not hold between the parties involved. As soon as you make a telephone call, it’s immediately out your hands.
After that call, you might have completely wished you had never made that call. At all!
That’s because any assault reports are directly handled by the Police. You have no say, except for what happened. Then, they do a full investigation and prosecution for any and all charges are their decision.
What an evil thought. I know she’d be screwed though.
Oh, what an evil thought…