Hangover

My sweet little brother got married, and then a couple of weeks later we had his reception, which was yesterday. It was wonderful, it really was. I think it turned out well and my sister, the brilliant chef that she is, created a menu to remember. Let's just say I'm glad there are leftovers.

But all that work and I am spent. I mean, that is it, you know. I talked to my grandpa about working through and living with pain, since he is in a similar, yet far worse situation. We concluded that living through it, sans meds, is a far better option that being doped to the gills on pain killers all the time.

But what I wouldn't give for a bottle of dillaudid and my comfy bed with a few good movies, maybe the Godfather (my favorite) right now. There's always the temptation to give it, but the drive to keep going.

An Oregon girl in Idaho...?

Coming to Idaho to visit my family for my brother's wedding reception has been great. Pain-wise, not so great. But otherwise, great!

One thing I contemplated on the way here. Was I coming home, driving from Eugene back through Boise and to my parents house in the middle of Idaho? Or was I leaving home?

Today shopping for the reception we stopped at Fred Meyer in Twin Falls. And the store actually carried things I've come to rely on - like Kefir when my tummy gets upset and Viso when I need a pick me up. I wasn't sure where I was going to find those things here.

Home is where your heart is, where your stuff is, where you find yourself... name your cliche. Right now my heart is strewn out all over the place.

Home is less on my mind today, however. I think I'm just having too much fun.

A quick update

A quick update about my benefits from my psych eval: nothing has happened yet! But something that has cheered me. My case has been transferred back to the woman who was in charge of it when I first started down this road. She was since promoted and it was transferred to another person, someone I haven’t really gotten along with very well. So I feel better, whether or not things are better.

Sassy

I never post pictures of myself, but this new haircut warrants one. Of course you can’t really see the layering and you can’t see the back, which is wonderful and so, so cute, but you get a little taste.

But here is the important part about this haircut. I walked to the appointment. This morning I was miserable and yesterday I was huffing and puffing since I hadn’t walked that far in years, but I walked there.

I’m donating my long hair and that feels good. But what really feels good is knowing that pain can be fleeting and when it is not, I can survive it without falling into a “pit of despair” (to quote Anne Shirley).

Oprah always talks about what she knows for sure. Well, here is what I know for sure:

I am a tough girl. And I love my new haircut – it is as sassy as I feel (even if you don’t get that from just a picture).

Housing BS

Sigh. The housing situation is grievous. We thought we had an apartment – not just any apartment, but a beautiful apartment in a beautiful place. But then it fell through at the last minute because we weren’t informed regarding the dog situation. Apparently our dogs were too big for their liking.

Let’s back up. Before this we had an apartment we wanted in the South Gate Apartments but were unable to come up with the application fee because the mailman didn’t deliver my husband’s check on the right day (actually no mail was delivered at that day because allegedly there was some dog – not ours – loose in the neighborhood). Someone else got that apartment. We were so sad.

But yesterday after we lost the apartment we had been told for two weeks was ours, I called the property manager of the South Gate Apartments and asked if there were any more openings. There just so happened to be one opening September 15. We immediately went down, put in our paperwork and the application fee.

So let’s see what happens, eh? [Insert another sigh here]

The ongoing dilemma

Here’s a familiar theme: I am living my life, actually living, doing things rather than doing nothing, and now I have increased pain, well lots of it actually. When I am protective, when I do relatively nothing, I do much better with pain. But then I don’t get to really live. A simple way to look at it:

Living life = increased pain
Not living life = not increased pain

I struggle with this dilemma. Do I have a responsibility to my family to try to live with as little pain as possible? Is my need to do things like go see Star Trek again with friends last night and sit up nights playing stupid Face Book games and clean the house important enough to justify the pain?

I seek normalcy. So to the second question I say, yes. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. But I’m tired of being patient. And I’m tired of being a patient.

My newest heartthrob

(Later that day…)

In case anyone out there is interested in how I spent the rest of my day, let me proudly present my new Diane von Furstenberg bag (and if you don’t know who that is, then you clearly don’t read as many fashion magazines as I do):



It was $29 at Ross. So yeah, it may not be from her fall 2009 line. But I’m in love.

As you can see, it is big enough to need its own seat in the car and if you were to peek inside you would see that it is bright pink and that it has a special padded area for my laptop.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. Nothing like retail therapy.

My psych eval

In case anyone out there is interested in how my psych eval went this morning…

Well, I am, too, and I have no news and won’t for awhile. The doctor who performed the evaluation could give me no information about his review. But I can tell you this:

I really liked him. He cared whether or not I was comfortable. He took his time, was incredibly thorough, and really listened to me. It was a major improvement upon the other doctor who performed the other evaluation.

So I guess I don’t really know. I hope it turns out I get to keep my benefits. We desperately need them so I can buy private insurance.

Everyone, manifest me a happy ending! (I know a lot of manifesting lately…)

Stormy weather

I’ve been in some pain lately. I’ve been under some stress lately, emotional stress, so much so to write about it brings me close to tears. Corollary?

I’ve been taking more medicine, well the only things I have. It just makes me sleep.

Tomorrow is my psych eval. More stress. So more pain?

I need to get out of my living situation and into one more conducive to a less-stress = less pain life. If that’s how it works. How does anything work? Wait, don’t tell me, I’m getting in the tub.

The Music Nerd

Here’s something fun:

The Music Nerd: Your On-line Source for Everything Cool Under the Sun

Just click the title of this post to access. If you want to become a contributor, there’s information on the site. It’s good entertainment.

The psychology of pain

In a few short days, on Thursday the 13th, I will be analyzed and evaluated to determine if I have a disability based on my psychological status. I’ve been doing some research and I’ve determined that I do.

Not just because I want them to keep paying me every month! I mean, that will be a nice benefit, and one I need. But also, I think there are definite psychological points to this pain thing.

I’ve been reading journal articles about how chronic pain impacts your brain and makes it function on a lower level than it did prior to the chronic pain. Now I’m reading about how chronic pain can be aggravated by psychological and emotional stressors.

And when I read the following statements that were “typical statements expressed by chronic pain patients” I had to be honest with myself, there was some truth there:

-“I feel worthless to my family because I cannot work.”

-“I don’t care to interact with my friends the way I used to.”

-“I don’t like myself and feel disappointed in myself.”

And on it goes.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think this is all in my head. This is very real and would be alleviated if I could just get a new damn pain pump! But there is something to this psychological stuff.

Sometimes honesty, especially with yourself, really is a pain isn’t it?

Free Will Astrology

Every week I read my horoscope in the Weekly (Boise Weekly, now Eugene Weekly). It’s always “Free Will Astrology with Rob Brezsny”. This week’s horoscope made me really stop in my tracks… and I was at Burrito Boy, if that tells you anything. So seriously, read it:

“In Salman Rushdie's story "The Prophet's Hair," a greedy man intentionally cripples his four sons when they're young, hoping to turn them into beggars who elicit profound sympathy and large cash donations. The plan is successful. His sons earn him a good income. Later, however, he comes into possession of a potent talisman -- a strand of hair from the prophet Mohammed -- and it magically heals the sons' ailments. They're no longer able to pull in big bucks, and grief descends upon the family. I bring this to your attention, Taurus, because I think there's a variation on these themes at work in your own life. A "magic charm" is available that could reverse or at least neutralize an old handicap. Do you have the pluck to surrender the questionable rewards that your impairment has brought you?”

If you want to read yours, just click on the title of the blog, that is, after you pick up your jaw after reading mine.

Can you smell the crazy?

Was I this crazy last time we moved? How about the time before that?

No, I don’t think so. But now. Look out, I am full-on obsessed. I haven’t been getting adequate sleep. I’ve been checking the newspaper classifieds and craigslist about every five minutes, so much so my refresh hit is so worn out it is on strike. My email inbox is empty and despite attempts to will responses out of potential rentals, it remains empty.

Yup, going a little crazy here.

The good news: we may have found a place. We both like it, it is very pet friendly, and it meets out criteria including price range. But we just barely looked at it this afternoon and need to turn in the application. I don’t want to jinx it.

If this doesn’t work, I have to admit, I can see crazy getting dialed up a few more notches. Poor husband. Pass the Klonopin.

Manifest me a home!

Apartment hunting. Again. Here we are, having just moved to Eugene, and now we are looking for a new place to live. It’s not exactly a right fit for our family (myself, husband, two loud dogs, and a cat) here with the four roommates. So we seek our own place now.

But we are on a deadline! Soon all the college kids come back into town and they will all want somewhere to live. We have to beat them to it!

I’ve decided I need to be like my good friend here and try to manifest the perfect place for us. Will you help? These are my specifications. If we all try hard enough, we might get close.

A cozy little house with a couple of bedrooms with just enough room for the stuff we have left after all our purging of worldly goods (remember this includes a piano), with a little stoop upon which to sit in the evenings and a place to grow flowers, and a fenced backyard so my doggies can go poop.

Remember, we only have to come close. Start manifesting!

Whiteaker Block Party... and more heat stroke!

Yesterday was the Whiteaker Block Party, an annual event put on in our neighborhood and sponsored by Ninkasi (the greatest brewery known to humankind).

We waited out the worst of the heat in our cool house, having sealed the cool air inside once the heat was on. My husband and I headed at nearly 5 o’clock yesterday evening. I got to enjoy a nice seasonal “Radiant” brew, some (to paraphrase my husband) “excellent musicians playing mediocre music”.

And then it happened. For the third day this week I got head stroke. Seriously bad feeling heat stroke. I couldn’t even walk home. I had to walk as far away from the event as I could and he had to then go back home, get the car, and come pick me up. I was sick, dizzy, headachy, and had a 100 degree temperature! Not good! And I was not sweating. I was chilled instead.

So that was the end of the block party. My husband got to back later for an after party and be the sound guy for a local band that was playing, the Rye Wolves.

But what the hell is going on with me?