Posts Tagged With: you gotta be kidding

Ambien: a Text Message Adventure

After last night, you should consider yourself lucky if I don’t have your phone number. Here are a few of the texts I woke to find having sent in my stupor:


“Ambien + Yelawolf = WTF Santa”

“My grilled cheese sandwich might have AIDS”

“I told the vampires to stay in the bathroom so I could sleep but they might not listen. You can shut the hall door.”


Since I spent the weekend not being able to sleep with the recurring neuropathy, yesterday afternoon I decided to take an Ambien in the hopes I’d be able to fall asleep after dinner and be well-rested for a bitch of a work week. I guess my body’s forgotten what drugs do this far after my last surgery.





The first time I took Ambien was after surgery, and the bathroom tiles were having a dance party around my feet. When I took a pill the next day I watched the words on my Kindle dance around and off the page. Most commonly, there would be alien vampires in the bathroom waiting in the tub for me to have to get up and pee. They never left the bathtub so I was fairly certain they weren’t real after the first time they appeared

Stone-cold sober, I’ve had super vivid dreams ever since I was a little girl, and have had the odd hallucination even in the middle of the day. (Yes, I know, it’s probably better that I get into the neurologist sooner than later) Add Ambien and opiates, and, well…


If you ever get weird texts from me about aliens or vampires, or maybe tiny pictures on my phone, please just convince me to go back to bed.

Categories: crippled, you gotta be kidding | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Lil Bro’s Wedding – the Calm Before the Storm

It’s finally happening, Lil Bro is getting hitched this weekend. I wish I could say it’s against my better judgment (it’s not – I wouldn’t miss being there for Lil Bro for the world), I’m going to be spending a weekend surrounded by our family.




Yes, I’m completely alone, without anyone accompanying me as a distraction, a babysitter, or a crutch.

WTF am I thinking???


Well, at first I wasn’t thinking – the first week or two after I got the invitation was a near-constant panic attack. Two months later, leaving Hicktown for the South, I was finally mentally and emotionally prepared for this… thing? I have no idea what to expect. It could be a circus, it could be fine – the only constant I know is that my mom will bring up the old drama, my dad will stonewall me and pretend to be nice, and even though I’m sitting at the family table for dinner I’m going to be the odd one out like all the other family events I’ve been to since I left home. My dad’s wife used to be known for leaving obscene voicemails and doing obscene drive-bys and my mom is known for telling every secret under the sun when she drinks, and then making up more… So who knows?

In the days before I left Hicktown I had a few bouts of anxiety, one of them pretty intense. Eventually I was able to articulate for myself that these crazy jerks don’t even know me so anything they might say to me or about me doesn’t even matter. The usual topics of conversation are just politics-baiting.
Seriously, the two insults I always hear are that I’m a “goddamn liberal” (only half-true, more like I think for myself which is actually pretty verboten on its own) and I’m a lesbian. No, dad, I’m not, but you’re the one who always starts that rumor. And even if I were a lesbian at least I’m not a child molester and don’t sleep with my relatives. Those two practices are actually commonplace in our family.


Since my vacation earlier this summer didn’t pan out, in the interest of mental health I took a few extra days off this week and am driving the long way around to stop in a few different cities. Last night I stayed in St Louis, which turned out to be surprisingly fun and relaxing. Road trips have always been me-time, but I met a friend and ended up laughing the night away. Today I slept in, had breakfast, started making my way through Tennessee to arrive in Carolina tomorrow afternoon. Blinding thunderstorms aside, driving was still therapeutic and I was in a groove.

…that is, until I was an hour east of Nashville and started panicking about how I’m going to spend Friday afternoon through Sunday afternoon surrounded by family. 48 hours of snide remarks, outright challenges, lies and changed history, new or distant relatives afraid to get to know me because of the inevitable retaliation or my mom being crazy. At my cousin’s wedding 10 years ago I thought I really was the problem until my dad’s wife’s mother told her she will come talk to me regardless of them “forbidding” her to talk to me. Knowing the background makes it easier for my rational mind to process, but under the layers of reason I paint on myself daily is still a scared little kid. Ashamed, afraid, and empty.


If you were on eastbound I-40 today and were almost sideswiped by a little black sedan, please let me apologise. Fucking panic attacks, man.


The lizard part of my brain that’s still a sad, lonely, scared kid keeps telling me all the likely scenarios I’ll encounter. The logical, Type A part of my brain keeps telling me to calm down, people make a big deal about shit that doesn’t matter, I’m an adult with a good life and I’m a good person, don’t engage, blah blah blah. It’s only working to the extent that I’m not having nightmares and have been able to function in the real world. Success…?

My hope is that I’ll have prepared for nothing. Second to that, maybe the rehearsing how to be calm and collected will kick in and I’ll be able to play the part without the lizard brain taking over.


And if that doesn’t work, I’ll just bust out the bruises on my leg and give them all something to talk about.

Categories: reflection, road trip, you gotta be kidding | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

The Frankenstein Chronicles – An Adventure in Referrals

My latest visit to my hand specialist (Dr. Frankenstein) on Tuesday was the perfect fodder for a post and I’m glad I waited a day and a half to write about it because it’s just getting more ridiculous. I swear to God.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll have noticed that I talk about my hands and #DontForgetTheCripple. Long story short, last January I had a nasty fall snowboarding and busted both my wrists/arms.

The bone is still broken, 2+ months later

After a few months the broken bone and sprain healed.  This last summer, though, the pain has come back and God only knows why.  I’ve tried creams, acupuncture, chiropractor, different massages, muscle relaxers, nerve drugs, steroids, injections, splints, and more. I’m at the point now where I can’t hold cups and I can’t dress myself again.

So, I had an appointment with Dr. Frankenstein a few weeks ago and I was supposed to get a referral to a different specialist because we have no idea what’s going on. She wasn’t sure if the new doctor would be able to help me, so she said she’d have the office get in touch with him and then they’d call me to make an appointment. She asked if I needed drugs and I said no, I’d decided to keep trying the horrifically expensive muscle relaxer/anti-inflammatory combo drug we’d started the week prior, even though it wasn’t working too well.

A week and a half goes by and I didn’t hear from her office or the new doctor. I tried calling once or twice, but since I work funny hours I never remembered during normal office hours. At that point the pain was on an 8.5 consistently and I was dropping cups of water and soda cans. The main assistant was out of the office so we didn’t know why I didn’t hear about the referral, but we made an appointment for their next opening.

6pm Tuesday rolls around and I plop myself into the doctor’s office. Mind you, I try to go to bed between 4 and 5pm, so I wasn’t in the best mood. 7:15p rolls around and I actually get to see the PA.  I tell her what’s going on and she starts quizzing me about my referral to the other specialist. Wait, what? I never got a call back, what do you mean I was supposed to be seeing this guy?!


I flipped my lid on Twitter. Half an hour later, I finally get to see my beautiful, brilliant Dr. Frankenstein.  She still has no idea what to do with me and I start crying because it’s late, I’m in pain, and I’ve wasted two weeks. Everything has to have healed in my arms from the fall by now, so I feel like a hypochondriac and she feels like an idiot.

We discuss referral options and she finds out I never saw the specialist she referred me to.  It turns out the referral guy’s office dropped the ball, and since Dr. F no longer has her office manager (who I hated anyway), things are falling apart a little while they try and replace her. She apologizes profusely and we make a plan for the next steps. Even though I hate drugs, we agree they’re best for me now so I can actually do things like shower, dress myself, and eat.

The next day, no call from the new specialist.  I call my doctor back on my way home and the PA sounds like she’s ready to kill the referral office.  Apparently I’m supposed to get “VIP treatment” and get in right away. I’m ready to go to bed (it’s 3pm) so I tell the PA if I don’t hear back by the next day I’ll call again.

Thursday rolls around and I make it to the pharmacy to pick up my drugs. The script’s been waiting for two days so all I have to do is waltz in and pay, right? Nope. There were conflicting instructions and they had to call the doctor to sort it out. I didn’t have time to wait, but the pharmacist said it would only take 15-20 minutes. I was ready to chew off my arms so I decided to wait.  45 minutes later, no drugs because the doctor’s office was busy.

Hoping for better news, I decide to call the referral specialist. The person who makes appointments is out to lunch so I have to leave a voicemail. Irritated, I call Dr. Frankenstein and leave another voicemail telling them that not only are the drugs effed up, I haven’t heard from the referral guy and had to leave a message.

They referral office calls back and the woman wants to call me back again because I’m on the bluetooth in my car. Eff you lady, it’s taken 3 weeks to get a call from you, I’m not letting you off the line without an appointment! After doubting her ability to understand time, I get an appointment for a week and a half away.

I’m beyond fed up. I have the drugs and technically I have an appointment, but there’s no way I’m trusting this new referral. I don’t care if he’s Einstein or Ghandi – my stubborn ass refuses to give him my business because his staff is incompetent and pathetic.  Dr. Frankenstein’s office is too busy to get through, but I’m hoping she can line up another one of my options early next week. She’s one of the few doctors I trust and sincerely respect, so I haven’t lost faith yet.

Categories: crippled | Tags: , | Leave a comment

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