Ugh

I think my sister and I need couples' therapy. We're talking again, but she always sounds angry, and is picking on me for imagined things. We talked just now -- she had completely forgotten that we talked this afternoon -- and proceeded to tell me how I wasn't getting the right medical care, my doctors were not the right doctors, I was seeing all kinds of doctors who do nothing for me instead of seeing the one I need (!?) and she knows I like my gastroenterologist (Resnick), but she doesn't, and on and on. When I got a word in, I asked how she was feeling right now, and she said in a breathy voice "Like I have high blood pressure."

Whoa. She does not have high blood pressure -- I do -- she has chronically low blood pressure, so that scared me. I asked her why she felt that way, and she said it was from talking to me. Well. I could feel the tears starting, but I fought them down and all I wanted was for her to be calm. I explained that my situation was really under control, although it didn't look that way to her, and on and on, and after a bit, I asked if she felt better, and she said she felt that same. "Like you have high blood pressure?" I asked. "If talking to me gives you high blood pressure, you won't want to talk to me anymore." And she said, after a pause, "It was a figure of speech. You know I don't have high blood pressure."

What is wrong with me? Am I just taking everything too literally these days? If she said she felt like she was having high blood pressure, what was I supposed to know that means? Maybe a couples' therapist could teach us to communicate more clearly.

No doubt there's something up with me, and I have no idea what it is. I don't feel depressed, just sad about some actual situations, like the thing with my sister and K not having a job. I got stopped for speeding today, but I didn't get a ticket, just a warning. K told me later that I've been driving fast a lot lately. I asked if it was scary to ride with me, and she paused before saying no.

Not to mention which I got this haircut that I like and not a single person has said to me "Hey, I like your haircut!" Which tells me something.

The thing is, I feel like I am perfectly fine and myself, but apparently other people aren't perceiving me that way. Which fills me with a lot of self-doubt, and I don't like that at all. It may be time to start going back to therapy (although my sister doesn't think my therapists have done very well with me, since I still have flaws that she can see that haven't been resolved, flaws that no one ever mentioned to me and I am unaware of; maybe my problem is that my ESP is off.) But the next step will be that all of this will make me sick, and I don't need that.

I am so babbling now. All I want is to simultaneously finish a book, watch some Home Improvement, and go to sleep, since my alarm is set for 6:30 and I really have to get up this time. And did I mention that they're taking George Lopez off at 10 pm starting next week? No George?




watching THE BIG BANG THEORY :: ENTRY #2111
READING: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riiordan

It's WHAT Time?

Today is the Slowest.Day.Ever. I cannot believe that it's only 10:15, third period, for gosh sake. I feel like I have already been here for weeks today.

It's because today isn't busy. I only have two classes scheduled, and neither one of them needs instruction; I taught them what to do on Tuesday and they're here in the library today looking for their resources. The counseling department is using our library classroom all day to teach juniors how to use college-searching software, so we didn't schedule any classes for instruction. And our computer network is slow, so there's no email, no access to the circulation system. In other words, I'm bored, and when I'm bored, I get sleepy.

But I do have a cup of coffee, which is meh cafeteria coffee, but still. Sometimes I take a sip of coffee and I feel like I'm consuming something intended for the gods on Mount Olympus. You know? It's just so good, life affirming, coffee is. I heart coffee, even decaf.

The last word I had on the Trip That Dare Not Speak Its Name is that my sister said "Why don't we just go to Disney World?" Now, I'm never opposed to that, of course, but she'd better make sure it's okay with the cousins, and she'd better make sure it's a cheap trip. She said she sees good deals in the paper every day; I said, well, I don't read the paper, so maybe you could check it out? I'm working all day and she's retired. I'll be glad to jump in when it's time to book stuff, but for now, yeah, maybe someone else who's not working -- that would be all three of them -- can do the legwork?

In the meantime, because I am who I am, I allowed myself the simple pleasure of looking over my Disney trip packing list, tweaking it here and there. If we go there -- wherever we go, actually -- I want this to be a simplified thing for me, so I'm working on packing simply. No computer, no extra cell phone, just the iPhone. If we do go to Florida or any other place that's humid, I'll let my hair go curly when I get there, so I won't need whatever else I do to straighten my hair here. The Sibs and I are committed to not checking luggage. This is a challenge for her someone who used to travel, even by plane, with the Costco size bottles of everything she needed. Our first trip to Disney together, she unpacked a foot-high container of baby powder and I laughed for ten minutes.

DW at the end of June -- when the cousins, it seems, really really really want to go -- is good and hot, but I've done it before, and it is Disney World, after all. (And did I mention that we also have to go to Florida in September, during freaking hurricane season again, for a Bar Mitzvah? That my cousin down there has three sons? The Sibs and I missed the first one last year because a storm blew in that then turned and blew out, so we could have gone, but we were chickenshits. This time, we've practically sworn in blood that we're going, and I am very fond of this particular Bar Mitzvah boy. But again, Florida in early September. Good plan.)

It's 10:30. Fourth period. I feel like I'm in Lost, and this has all happened already in the future, so we know how it's going to come out. Or something. Somehow, it's earlier now than it was yesterday. Hey, it doesn't make any sense on TV either.

Hours and hours later ...

Home, been home for ages, almost ready for bed. It's Friday, right? No? Shit.

Anyway, I went to my wonderful therapist today and she thinks I don't need to go anymore. Hey, I'm normal! (But you couldn't tell, right?) I can call her whenever I need to, etc. etc., but basically, I'm dealing well with things, she says. Oh, okay, I am, pretty much, until the next diagnosis comes along.

I'm going to settle in somewhere now. Good night, y'all.


waiting for TWO AND A HALF MEN :: ENTRY #2018
READING: Bel Canto by Ann Patchett

Less Than Settled

I'm feeling less than settled, which is not to say bummed, but I did get to go talk it over at therapy just before, so that's good. I'm essentially okay, however

my sinus issues have now become a really bad toothache, which I've had before, but that doesn't mean I like it any better. I just recognized what it was this time before I bothered the dentist about it. I still have the headache too, off and on.

the whole SCM thing is still bothering me.

I had my house cleaned today, which was terrific, until about an hour after they left, I found something broken. I'm sure it was an accident; I mean, I think they may have knocked it over on their way out and didn't even realize it, but it was something very special to me, a black and white Mickey Mouse figure that the Hubs got me once for Christmas, which means he actually went to a mall for me. It's making me sad. I don't think I'll get reimbursed for it, which is okay, but I really wish it could be fixed. I'll have to ask the Chum, when she's home from Maine, which should be any day now. She taught pottery for thirty years, so I guess she'll know what to do. But it was quite a shock when I glanced down on my way out the door and saw Mickey's decapitated head laying there.

The My Lobotomy book that I'm reading is also quite a lot to think about. Remember the other day when I posted the family picture and said that Aunt Sarah wasn't quite right, had medical issues? Well. Now I'm thinking I might know what they were, and the thoughts are not pleasant. I already know that she was treated for depression in an institution before I was born. That would be the late 1940s or early 1950s. And now the book is making me think .... again, well. I need to talk to my sister; the thing is that no one who knows the truth is still alive, except, sort of, Aunt Sarah's daughter, but she has Alzheimer's, so, no help there. Quite a strange family secret I feel that I have somehow stumbled across.

Okay, then, so let me just post and change a load of laundry and call that sister.


WATCHING THE FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #1877
READING: My Lobotomy by Howard Dully and Charles Fleming

*sigh*

So I went to therapy, yada yada, and here's my big revelation of the day. Why is it that when I'm sick I'd rather keep it to myself instead of "being a burden" on everyone else? I've been trying to work this out for months, and I figured it had something to do with my mother, who coped much better with real illness than she did with hypochondria, which I supposed I had felt was a burden to me. Wrong! The therapist -- Ginny -- said something very simple that made perfect sense. Nothing to do with my mother. My illnesses are a burden to me. Duh. Well, they are. No wonder I'm afraid they will be to other people, too. Very simple, but I guess I never that of it that way before.

Yes, they are a burden, all this nickel and dime crap. None of it is life-threatening, but all of it is life-annoying, and I can't get a handle on it because it can literally take a different form every day. Last week an eye infection; I had no idea that was part of the mix, too. I read today that although weight loss is common with Crohn's, some people have weight gain instead. Well, I've been saying for years that I was gaining weight for no reason. There ya go.

I did get to mention y'all, though, because I told Ginny that it was the diary world people who convinced me that I'm not actually a hypochondriac (since my ailments are all real), as I always felt I was. One problem she didn't have to solve for me, so, thanks.

So, I am relatively bummed, but hey, that's why I'm going to therapy. I'm also considering talking to the doctor about a mild anti-depressant. I've never really been ready to take that kind of med before, but now, I just feel tired of struggling every damn day to feel good when my body is fighting me back. The struggle wears me out (oh hey, fatigue is another Crohn's thing, I found out today) and makes me much more susceptible to idiot interference, like anyone I feel is standing in my way or making me feel worse (aka, The Martian.)

I was good today, though; I called the hospital and got the name of the Crohn's support group and even called. The woman I spoke to was very, very nice and helpful, but unfortunately the group is not meeting during the summer. But I'll go in September, I already have it on my calendar.

I also got in nine holes of golf after a three-hole warmup game, and two games of bowling (on the Wii. You knew I didn't go outside or anything.) I'm getting much better at both of the those, but I can't play the tennis at all. I'm not only bad at it, it really hurts my arm. Oh, I even finally made another appointment for physical therapy, going tomorrow.

I think I'm going to try to get back to some reading tonight. I have to see if the eyedrops I'm using have worked well enough to clear up my vision for reading. The computer seems to be much better, so maybe the book will be, too.

Oh, I did actually take some garbage out of the basement this morning, and I bagged up a bunch of old (unmarked) videotapes. I did this to get to our old stash of vinyl record albums, so I could start getting the USB turntable I got for Christmas connected and get that project going. What I found was that almost all the record sleeves are mildewed -- ew -- although the actual vinyl records seem okay, but every album of mine that I found, I have on CD, or I've downloaded the mp3s in the last few years. Hmmm. Seemed like such a cool gift, but in reality, not all that useful to me. I only brought two of my albums upstairs: the original Broadway cast recording of Peter Pan, with Mary Martin, an album I've owned for at least 50 years, and the Temptations' Greatest Hits. I'll have to go through my John Denver more closely, but if I'm only missing a song or two from an album here and there, is it really worth the whole process? Looks like I may be working on a lot of the Hubs' albums, which he probably won't even want. (He is definitely not someone who gives a gift so you can use it to make something for him. And he doesn't listen to mp3s, so I'd have to burn each one as a CD for him, which he would then listen to and give back to me. Not the general idea.)

I am so rambling. Tomorrow, doctor, nails, physical therapy, and a trip to DSW (shoe store) if I can squeeze it in.

WATCHING FRIENDS :: ENTRY #1800
SUMMER BOOK #3: The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

It's a Simple Question

Why isn't Lost on at eight, or some other reasonable hour? Seven? I'm just saying.

So here was my amusing moment of the day. Sometime during second period, I got up and left the library (as I do) and I noticed that there was a piece paper on the floor right at the threshold. I stooped to pick it up and saw that it was printed, and taped to the floor; I looked around and saw several others taped to the corridor walls and floor in various places. It seems that one of the biology teachers, for a lesson on evolution or something, put these signs up in relative positions all over the corridor to give the kids a sense of the huge spans of time between each development. The sign at the entrance to the library was



(Sorry for the blur.) Anyway, this just amused the hell out of me, and, I felt, demanded a reply. So I wrote up a post-it (the lime green blob in the picture), on which I wrote in black Sharpie

"However, these organisms were not Mrs. Chai and Mr. SCM" and underneath, in script, "The Management"

Because really, didn't the original sign make it look like the first organisms were, y'know, there? In the library? It was literally at the edge of the library carpeting.

So, in other news, I went to my therapy appointment today and she was not there. I am a little concerned that perhaps her chemo did not go well last week. I called to leave a message about rescheduling, and her voice mail said that she would be out of the office until the 26th; this being the 29th, I have to wonder why she has not changed that yet. So I hope she's okay. I really do like her very much, and I think that going there is good for me.

K and R are both taking pre-Lost naps, but I think that's a bad plan for me. I just have to tough it out, I guess, or stay the hell out of the faculty room tomorrow.

WATCHING FRIENDS :: ENTRY #1766

VaCaDay 4

Yeah, Earth Day, whatever. I have a problem with any of these days that are designated as special days when we're supposed to do what we're actually supposed to be doing every day. You have now seen my Daily Moment of Cynicism.

If you are one of the folk who pick me up via RSS feed, I apologize for swamping your reader with entries. I decided this morning that since I had nothing else to do, I would copy over some entries from the old dland diary site. I mark these with "Copied from diaryland" as the first line, so if you see that in the RSS feed, it's an old entry. I'm currently finishing up March, 2007 and will move into February next. More on that in a moment.

It was a slow morning today; I woke up with a headache that I'd had since about three a.m. but hadn't gotten up to take some Tylenol until 4:30. I still had it when I finally got up around 7:30, and still have it now, a little. So I've been taking the day slowly. My only real goal was to be up and dressed in time for my therapy appointment, which was at noon, but I ended up with some time to kill, hence the diary moving.

I like this therapist very much. Today we discussed just a few entry-level sort of things to do when stressed. Among other things, she gave me my own personal little can of Pla-Doh, more to focus on when I'm trying to do other calming things than to play with. She only had a few colors in the bag and I picked the black one because I've never seen black Pla-Doh before, but I'm sure that means something.

Anyway, one of the strategies we discussed was distraction, and I realized that copying over old diary entries is a helluva good one. Not that I'm stressed today; I'm not, but when I am, hey, I've got over four years of entries to move over, so I should have plenty of distraction available to me for a long time.

So the week is drifting along, as it should, and the weather is remarkable out there. Later, when K gets home, we may take R's old bicycle in to the shop to be cleaned up and tuned up so that K can do some riding in addition to her walking. (Hey, I guess I could do that too; I always loved bicycling. There's a thought.) Anyway, R has no room for at this point, so someone might as well get use out of it. It's just a matter of lifting it off the garage wall and getting it into my car; it's not heavy. No other plans for today. Oh yeah, I have laundry to put away, but that's not really a plan.

On Thursday, pre-tattoo, we need to make a visit to the bursar's office at that goofy college she goes to. Get this: they have not charged us for this semester's tuition. Assuming they would, I sent in a payment, but they sent us a refund. Her account still shows no balance. Now, this would be great if it's real, but I'm thinking they'll keep telling us there's no charge for this semester, why?, but then they'll hold her diploma, or worse, cancel her registration for student teaching and claim we owe all this money. Which we do and we know it, we just can't get them to take our payment. How weird is that?

Okay, I'm off to fold laundry or copy over more diary entries. One or 'tother.

WATCHING L/O :: ENTRY #1735

I Have Got A PLAN

Oh boy oh boy oh boy. I got it. And here's what I'm getting:

On my right forearm, close to my wrist but not over any of those pesky veins, and running parallel to the length of my arm, que sera, sera. The whole thing will be maybe an inch long, perhaps a bit longer. I need to be careful about where it goes on my right arm because I'm always getting IV's and stuff stuck in there, and damned if I want to have a tattoo that keeps getting punched into by some medical procedure.

Then. On the back of my left leg, just above the ankle, the single word imagine., all lower case in a typewriter font, with a period at the end of it. Also not more than in inch across.

I would like these to be not black, if possible, but I do think that four purple tattoos borders on the oddly obsessive, so I'll ask about other colors. I'm going to go in tomorrow and make an appointment, or possibly two, to have them done separately. I definitely want to get the arm tattoo next week, when I'm off of work, but I don't want the other one to interfere with my pedicure schedule (how awful do I sound?), so I'd like to get that one done the day after my next pedi, which is May 1, so I'll have three weeks before I have to soak my leg in the pedi tub again.

I like this. This is a good decision. This A Good Plan. (And both of these are inexpensive, fast tattoos.)

School was very busy again today, since it was the final day in the library for the kids' blog projects, which are turning out to be adorable.

Speaking of having next week off, I have not scheduled a million doctors' appointments, as I usually do when I'm off. All I have is the therapist again on Tuesday and the podiatrist Friday morning. Now I want to work the tattoo in there, and otherwise, all I really have to do is clean up the house some -- not as big a project as it used to be, since I'm keeping up with it more. And take some walks, if I can. The weather has been amazing this week, but is not predicted to be the same next, but I guess I can put a jacket back on (ugh) and get out there some, as long as it isn't raining.

One of the things the therapist asked me about yesterday was my feeling about retirement, which anyone who has read five minutes here knows very well. She wanted to know if I was apprehensive about retirement, if I'm concerned that I'll be isolated, and so on. UH-UH! I will be so content to drift from one thing to another, to do what I'm motivated to do at the moment, and watch ten hours of The Odd Couple on DVD the next day. (I seriously plan to catch up on a lot of movies and other DVDs when I retire.) Every day off is just retirement practice, as far as I'm concerned, and next week is so far shaping up like a nice peaceful week. (I shouldn't say that, should I; it's tempting the evil eye.)



WATCHING MASH :: ENTRY #1731

Quite the Long Day

Another day of busy, busy, busy.

The technical difficulties of yesterday's school project vanished today, and all the little dears set up their blogs and they are very cute and clever. More work on that tomorrow, too.

Our bell schedule was all changed around today because of the pep rally at the end of the day, and I tried to change my appointment to see the principal in and among my classes, and finally, to my delighted surprise, he came up to the library to see me. I gave him my doctor's note and he assured me that I would have someone there with me so I could go when I need to. He was really very, very nice.

And today I went to see the therapist after school, first visit, and I liked her very much too. More on that another time, but it went well. Then K and I did all kinds of running around, picking up this and that here and there, and I have been on the phone for a while, and now I just need to take a breath! (And eat some jelly beans; I got some jelly beans.)

Good night, all!

WATCHING L/O:SVU :: ENTRY #1730

Yet Another Nice One

I just love days that aren't packed with stress, and when stuff seems to work out nicely.

Top of the list today, I guess, is that the therapist called me back and I have an appointment for Thursday. I had a nice long talk with OldFriend last night, which is always very good for me and I think for her too, and she was advising me on alternate plans if the therapist didn't call. Well, she did, and apologized for not calling earlier, but she herself started chemo this week (first stage breast cancer) and asked if that would be a problem for me. No. It's not. In fact, it's not at all. I would feel like a shit if I told her Oh no, you have cancer so don't waste my time, or you know, if I gave her that impression. She wants to keep her life going and work, that's aces with me. So, Thursday. I must call OldFriend later and tell her.

I sorted out a few dresser drawers this morning and put away my sweaters. I wore almost no sweaters this winter because it was always so frickin hot in the library. I don't even know why I bothered to take them out, except last winter it was mostly freezing there. Can't win. Anyway, now I have room to do a good job on the hanging stuff in my closet, which I'll do tomorrow. Or today after the in-laws leave.

Yes, into each life some in-laws must fall. My only real issue with them, I guess, is that our pace of life is very different and dealing with them raises a bit of a frustration level in me. Here's today's story: the FIL's sister, who is the aunt I so adore, has a baby great-granddaughter having a first birthday party today. (Oh, now here's the irony: the ILs have just arrived. I'll finish this later.)

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Okay, so they were coming up from Old-People-At-the-Shore Land to come to this birthday party, and said they might stop by either before or after. "But don't change your plans." Which means, we expect everyone to be there when we get there, although we have no idea when that will be. So they did come, after the party, and then what we do is, we sit. We all sit in one room and visit, and no one does anything else when they're here. (This is also what we do when we go to their house.) The FIL has so much trouble walking that it terrifies me to see him come up the three or four steps into my house, and then totter around. (He has nasty orthopedic issues.)

So anyway, they were here, they're gone, and R managed to get out of work early and came by as well. She and K are out shopping now, and we have plans, the three of us, to go -- where else? -- Target tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, after the old folks (and the young folks) left, I moved onto the next stage of my closet. I still have to weed out stuff I don't wear, but everything is neat and accessible now. I have to get more hangers tomorrow morning.

I was going to tell you all about the woodpeckers, with pictures and everything. Maybe tomorrow.

WATCHING THE ADDAMS FAMILY MOVIE :: ENTRY #1725

A Step Back, A Couple Steps Forward

An improved, if strange, day.

First, let me just say that I used all my new potions and things in the shower this morning and damn, I smell good. It's nearly two in the afternoon and I'm still in a nice little Burt's Bees cloud. I'm just saying. My shower took twice as long as usual, but okay. And my hair even came out in a manner acceptable to me today. So that's all cool.

Got a lot of stuff done at work this morning. Also good. And then the phone rang.

Slowly I turned ...

But it was okay, sort of. Yes, it was K, whose car would not start. But she sounded pretty good, and she said that she was feeling much better today. She would call AAA and get the battery jumped. All okay.

But then as I was sitting at my desk, my stress began to rise. She would fall apart. No wait, I would fall apart, and I would have to do it at school. Hmmm. I logged off my computer, called the main office and said I had an emergency at home but would probably be back, told the SCM, and took off. What I wanted to do was give K my car to use, since she has a week's worth of errands and things to take care of, not to mention class tonight, and I would wait for AAA and come back to school in her car.

AAA was, amazingly, already there when I got home. I could see immediately that K was not falling apart, was in very good humor, and did not look sick. Three cheers on this one, folks! Anyway, the guy could not charge the car and then noticed that the sparkplug cables have been "cut."

Now we're a little freaked out, both of us, but he said it could have been an animal. Uh, yeah. So I sent the kid into the house to get ready to go out, since I'm leaving her my car, and I followed the tow-truck to our own mechanic, who said it is absolutely animals, we're the second car this week where animals (probably squirrels) chewed the sparkplug wires. Imagine that.

Home again, I call for a rental car and waited nearly 45 minutes to get picked up. So that sucked, but listen to what I got done while I was waiting: I called the therapist's office and left a message. I am proud of me. I was also pleased to her that there are actually four women in the office, so I may not even have to see the one who has a kid in the high school. This was a big step, although I haven't even talked to someone yet; hopefully, someone will call me back this afternoon.

The other thing I did was turn off the caller ID on the Hubs' TV. Yes, since we got the cable phone and the HD cable TV, when the phone rings, the caller I.D. shows up on the TV screen. I turned mine off immediately because I didn't like it, but I had no idea that it showed up on his non-HD TV as well. He mentioned it the other day as a curiosity. Yes, well, I don't need him to be able to see who's calling and such when I'm on the phone. I will frequently not take the call waiting beep from his parents because they don't understand call waiting; you can't say to them "Hi, I'm on another call; I'll call you right back," because when you answer, they just start talking and you can't get a word in. So when I see them on the call waiting/caller I.D., I don't take it, I just finish the conversation I'm in and then call them right back. The Hubs is famously strange about his parents' phone calls in that he never really wants to talk on the phone but if they call and I don't get him right away he has one of his temper outbursts. Doesn't matter if he's eating dinner or what, I have no right not to get him for their call NOW. So, better for me if he can't see that they're calling. TMI?

So I have this giant minivan as a rental car because that's all they had, but they charged me for a compact car anyway. I was going to go to the mall this afternoon but I may pass until I have my own car back since I won't be afraid to park it. (I haven't driven a big car in a loooong time.) Ditto the supermarket. In which case I need to take a nap when I get home because I am just worn out. But I smell good.


WATCHING L/O :: ENTRY #1720

Saturday

I had such a nice afternoon. My sister and Wonderful Niece came over, and K and I brought them to see R's apartment, where they had never been, and then we all went out to lunch near there. She lives in a very charming small city. Lunch was excellent. We went to a Thai place but it was closed, so we went to a Mediterranean place just up the street, and it was all delicious.

But it was very cold and windy walking around on the street, which was not so pleasant. Afterwards, though, we took a ride around and looked at some of the big houses -- this city has a very old upscale neighborhood, with gigantic Victorians -- and then dropped R off at home. After we got back to my house and the Sibs and Niece took off, both K and I dropped off into deep naps.

K is sick with what sounds like an upper respiratory infection, just blooming, as it were, today. She is coughing and coughing, and feels just awful. She was pretty medicated this morning, but now it's making her miserable.

Speaking of coughing, the Hubs coughed and hacked for a good two hours or more last night. It's hard to believe that this is just from stopping smoking; it sounds as if he's got something else or he's giving himself something else. All that coughing can't be good for his throat. I didn't even remember this until last night while I was listening to him go on, that his grandfather had throat cancer. It's not what he died of, though (that was an embolism after routine surgery, like gall bladder or something), but I asked the Hubs once many years ago if his grandfather spoke with an accent, and he said he didn't really know. I thought this was odd, since he was close to his grandfather, who died when the Hubs was fourteen, but he explained that his grandfather had had throat cancer when he, the Hubs, was a baby, and so he never really spoke after that. He had that hole in his throat, and I guess he could make himself understood, but he didn't actually speak. And here's his devoted grandson, not at all concerned with what's going on in there in his own body.

And this, folks, is what therapy is for. For me, I mean. I haven't called yet because things have been relatively quiet, but last night was stressful, and I've got to make that call this week. Stress is not good for me. I'll be curious to see if I have a little mini-relapse this week, as I did a few weeks ago after another stressful weekend. Although he seems fine now. He was working out in the yard when we came home, and that relaxes him.

Okay. Finished Truman, finally, and also Persepolis, very good. My sister gave me two books today; I'm contemplating Open House, by Elizabeth Berg. It's so nice to be back into reading again.

WATCHING THE SIMPSONS :: ENTRY #1713

Good News, Less Than Good News

First, the less than good news. I believe that I am sinking into a depression. There are a variety of factors here, my illness, stress-inducing family, and so on. This morning, I was feeling very, very sad, and trying to get a handle on what to do about it. I think what I need is to go back to therapy, and I even looked up my old therapist on the Internet, but I don't think going back to her is an option. Although I'm sure she would see me, the group she's in is now specializing in treating eating disorders, and I think I would feel very out of place there. They had already started to move in this direction before I stopped going, and just sitting in the waiting room was sometimes awkward, and I was always concerned about running into a kid from my school there. (Not that I would have cared if anyone knew I went to therapy, but I thought it might be very stressful for the kid to think a teacher knew she was going there.)

Anyway, I was thinking about that, and how on earth to find a new therapist, and how I feel I am without someone to talk to, as I wrote yesterday, and then a very cool thing happened. The phone rang.

On the other end was my dear Colleague, she who was formerly the library secretary and who is now banished to another office in the school. (She's not actually banished; she got promoted away from me.) She called up to see how the girls liked their trip to Paris. And stuff just started to spill out of me. I realized that she is the person I'm missing in my life. She is the one I always talked to about anything, and she to me. We've gotten accustomed to being separated, but not really adjusted to it, if that means anything. As we were talking, I couldn't believe how much I was missing her -- yes, she's only in another part of the same building, but we rarely cross paths -- and it felt wonderful to talk to her. (We do talk on the phone, but not often enough, and then it's all we can do just to catch up with each other's lives.) And then I remembered something else: her daughter, married, in her thirties, goes to see someone for therapy, based mostly on my success and recommendation that it would be good for her. So, the upshot is, I got the name of someone to go to.

It's a good decision to go to therapy, and good to have a name to start with. I don't feel like I need to dig as deep as I did last time, I just feel like I need some support for awhile. When I first got my diagnosis in January, even then I thought that I might want to go see someone after a couple of months. So that's the good news. (Being depressed is the less than good news.)

I also kind of traced back a little of what's irritating my stomach, so hopefully I will stop eating that -- edamame, which I love -- and it will clear up this little bit of a flare I seem to be having. So I felt good about figuring that out, too. I hope it's not the apples that I've started eating again, because I really like apples, and it's easier to give up the edamame. I think that's it, anyway.

(Crohn's, btw, is one of the two major inflammatory bowel diseases, the other being ulcerative colitis. The main difference between the two, as I understand it, is that U.C. occurs only in the colon, but Crohn's can affect any part of the entire digestive system, including *ahem* both ends, the mouth/tongue, and ... the other end. Also, because these are auto-immune diseases, they can also cause rheumatoid arthritis [the big auto-immune disease] reactions in the joints, particularly of the hands and feet. I could go on, but that's the basics, that's why I get sores on my tongue when it acts up. I didn't have the ankle and wrist swelling until I got very sick, but the tongue is apparently an early sign for me.)

I also undertook a pretty big library project this morning, one that we had started last year but had to put off due to the change in the library software over the summer. (I'm cataloging our video collection. We have about 900 videotapes.) So that was a good decision too, to immerse myself in work that needs to be done, is somewhat interesting, and just the right amount of challenging. I'm also weeding out old and/or never used videos while I'm at it. I'm up to about 480, which includes all the ones we got done last year, so I guess this should keep me busy until June, at least.

(Why do we still have so many VHS tapes, you wonder? For one thing, we've got them, and we don't have the budget to replace them all on DVD at once. For another, many of them won't be available on DVD, maybe ever. Not to mention that we have relatively few DVD players to go around in the building, but we still have VCR's in many rooms, and many VCR's on carts to move around. The newer or remodeled classrooms have computers connected to video projectors, so they can just show DVD's through that system, but it's not widespread enough to make our videotapes obsolete. Yet. Although anything new that we buy is on DVD.)

I do feel better than I did this morning. I can't say that what I was feeling was despair, but I felt very, very sad. Oddly, I slept very well last night, which surprised me, so that didn't contribute to the morning's mood, but I woke up feeling like I'd gotten to my last straw. Better now, some. Of course, I do still have to go home (whence I shall post this) and talk to the people who live there (or used to live there), and I do still have to spend some time in a car with them on Sunday so we can go have Easter dinner with the ILs -- mm boy, looking forward to that -- but there you go. You gotta do what you gotta do, n'est-ce pas?

(K did indeed bring me a copy of Harry Potter et le Prisonnier d'Azkaban, which I could even read, some. It made me giggle.)


WATCHING ----- :: ENTRY #1706

Who Am I, Anyway?

[copied from dland]

**In 40 days I will be 50 years old**

So I’m sitting there with my therapist last night and I’m telling her about my sucky day in the hospital and how nobody in my family came to see what I was doing there in the Emergency Room for hours and hours, and the first thing is that my cell phone rings. Since it seems like the height of rudeness to answer your cell phone while in therapy, I didn’t. (I only keep it on all the time because I don’t wear a watch anymore since the Purple Chai came into my life.) My issue of last night’s session seemed to be my sense of myself as unimportant and insignificant and have I trained my family to think that I can handle everything and they never need to worry about me. Lots to ponder on. And then the phone rings again on my way home and it’s the Older Daughter, totally panicked. About an hour and a half away at college out of state, she saw on TV that there was a terrible car accident in our town and she couldn’t move on until she knew I was okay and not involved. When I didn’t answer her first call she freaked out, called my Sister, and on and on.

So what was I saying again?

So I’m thinking about this being a speck of dust in the universe and no more meaningful in the grand scheme than a worm or a stereo speaker, and thinking, I ought to write this down. It’s good grist for the Purple Chai mill. I’m thinking, I’m thinking. Still working on it.

But another conversation I had today with my Colleague at work leads me off at a slightly skewed angle. Somehow we got onto the topic of what I was like as a kid, I’m not sure why. I think I said something about being the baby of the family and that I was very indulged, not with things, but with attention. I remarked that I was a little kid who demanded a lot of attention and got it.

She looked stunned. “No,” she said, “that can’t be. They all depended on you, always.”

“I mean when I was three, four, five.”

“No,” she said. “Not possible.”

I tell her that I was a whiny kid, and that they would give in to me just to make me shut up. If I didn’t get my way I would stamp my feet, maybe throw something. (Yes, I was sent to my room here or properly spanked. It was the 1950s, after all.) I tell her that when I was playing games with Grandpa and he had to go to the bathroom that if I didn’t want to stop playing I told him not to go, and he didn’t.

She’s looking at me like I just dropped in from Mars, not knowing what to say now that I have insisted that I am not making this up and she can call Jack at the old people’s place and have him verify it all for her. So finally she says:

“When did you change and become the total opposite?”

Whoa. Who the hell am I, anyway?

I’m the doer who sucks up every negative feeling and hasn’t gotten angry at anyone in about 20 years. I’m the turner of the other cheek. I’m the handler of all bad things, therefore the dumpee of all the crap no one else does or want to do. But I’m still the little whiner inside, it’s just that I learned in my life that other people don’t so much like to be around little whiners, so it’s best to keep that to yourself. I learned that lesson real, real well.

No answers here, except that I am all of it, and I can’t get a handle on it at all. Not at all.


ENTRY #24