Wednesday October 1st
For some reason today, I was thinking about how much I missed my brother. Up until now my mother, oldest sister and brother have been religiously indifferent at best towards me, at times not even acknowledging that we were related. My Pittsburgh sister even went so far as to not tell her current husband and son that I even existed until my father's death. Suddenly all three are insisting that I tell them when the surgery is. Considering that it's at least two months from now so I can stabilize, they'll probably think me a liar (as usual) when I deny knowing the exact date.
I’m trying to side on the premise that they’re worried about losing their heathen brother/son and are genuinely concerned, but my family has a history during such occasions. I'll make friends and get on a warm relationship with one, and we're so worried about it blowing up like a newly found landmine that we usually back off before it (or one of us) blows up. Only my sister in Oregon and my trusted aunt in Pittsburgh accept me for what and who I am.
After sending out a bunch of e-mails about going in for triple bypass surgery to my friends, I re-checked the paperwork and could only find a confirmation appointment with the surgeon on the 9th. I called his office and was told he needed the arm/knee surgeon’s permission to proceed, but I still needed to come into his office for an EKG.
I'm told that when my uncle Wayne died, one of my relatives flew out and descended on his home, and then proceeded to strip it of every valuable he had before my mom even knew he’d died. I felt for her because I knew she must've been heartbroken.
Right after my father’s death in 2006, other family members in effect did the same thing, because due to a legal loophole that said that our minister didn’t have legal sway over dad’s possessions until he’d passed some test so he could become his legal executor, anyone could go in and grab anything out of his house and legally get away with it.
I remember being struck by being told that when an inventory was made of his house, the one that that struck him as unusual was that every bit of cash, even some furniture was stripped from his house. When (and after) the reverend finally got around to finalizing the will, I was invited down in the aftermath, and he gave me a half-full box of photographs that apparently someone had hoarded away, meaning to pick up later… Knowing how concerned about the photos my family was, I called to say I had the old photos and that they were in safe hands. While on the phone with my mother, I could clearly hear in the background as my sister began screaming at the top of her lungs that I was a thief and had stolen them.
Because of my knee and foot, I couldn’t load up my car, so the reverend and his son did it for me, so whatever I have, I have legally… their protests be damned. As a point of fact, I wasn't even aware of most of what he'd given me until I'd driven hundreds of miles back home and unpacked it. The items were his decision as executor, not mine.
Later when I tried to boot up my dad's computer, I discovered the routine had been sabotaged so it couldn't be. I pulled his hard drive, reconfigured it as a storage/slave drive on my own computer, and then discovered that many of his computer files had been accessed... days and weeks after his death/funeral. Some of his diary files were protected by passwords and hidden within system files where no one would think to look for them, so I had the hard drive documented and its files put on dvd/discs so I could read them later. The point here being, someone sat in front of his computer after his death, and when they couldn't find the files I later found (possibly because they knew they were there somewhere) they decided that if they couldn't have them, no one could.
Considering the disdain my oldest sister has always had for me, and how she instilled that into my mother who went to live with her, I can't be less than suspicious when she/they suddenly wanted to come and pray over me. At one time or another they've expressed out-and-out hatred, resentment or disdain, usually ending with them wishing they'd never knew their perverted, and immoral brother.
I fear that the moment I go into surgery, they’ll arrive at my door, insisting that my apartment building manager let them in in an attempt to recover my dad's transcribed diaries off of my computer... they seem to be that obsessed with them. After reading some of them, I can see why. I can think of no other motivation for them to suddenly have such a drastic change of heart and want to be near me in my desperate hour of need.
It’s a terrible thing to think, but they have a track record, and I’ve heard of other incidents... you'll note that no names have been mentioned here for legal reasons, so if the guilty raise hell it's only out of their own guilty conscience. No one else could possibly figure out who I was talking about.
My shrink “Dr. Mind” is gone for two weeks, which means I haven’t seen her for over a month, which might explain the paranoia.
Thursday October 2nd
I guess I better brace myself for another financial disaster, no county health card in the mail, which means no help with the Medicare co-pays and no prescription help.
Nearly puked trying to clean out the fridge, the stench of three-week-old ground chuck while I was in the hospital is overwhelming and I ended up tying a wet towel around my face. Rotting red cabbage heads and assorted veggies all went into a big garbage bag. When I tried to lift it, I knew I was in trouble, because I’d never make it down to the dumpster with it, I’m so weak. I tied it off, put it in another bag, and another, if it’s gets to bad I guess I can carry it out on my balcony to freeze over the winter and worry about it after I have my heart and knee operated on.
Spent the afternoon and pulled everything out of the freezer and wiped the whole fridge down with sanitizer.
Friday October 3rd
I woke up screaming last night. The former me, the 30-year-old muscle me of the mid-80s came into my bedroom, took one look at the “me” that he would become, and pulled a revolver out of his pocket, stuck it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
I’ve been popping Oxycodone for the arm pain, and the dry-mouth is horrible. It comes on instantly and if a glass of water isn’t near, it’s hell. The garbage bag with the old food in it is expanding. I asked one of the janitor/repair guys if they could lug it down to the dumpster for me, but he hasn’t shown up yet.
I’m in hell, trying to do everything with my left hand. With the entire fridge’s worth of food ruined, I drove one-handed to Wal-Mart. Reaching across myself to shift gears while parking, trying to snap the shoulder harness into its clip with my left hand and worst of all trying to get the key in the ignition with my left hand.
At lease it was warm enough today to cruise around with the top down.
Came home with only a two-day supply because I forgot to take my little two-wheeled basket cart with me, so I had to limit what groceries I could carry up from the car.
Just when I had a hopeless feeling about to overwhelm me, Dr. Mind’s supervisor called me this evening to make sure I was all right. He was great and talked to me for about an hour and a half. I found out later he is in charge of the whole psyche department at Ohio State, and that he’d put everything aside just to talk to me… wow.
I got more mail from the county, Social Security and GB. It’s becoming so overwhelming that I chucked it all into an upper cubbyhole of my desk and slept the evening and into the night.
Sunday October 5th
I finally got around to opening a bunch of mail; Social Security says that due to a clerical error from three years ago, they might be reducing my monthly checks by $60 from $484 to $424. Great; just great. I went the rest of the day in a blue funk, mostly sleeping for a couple hours than up for a few etc. etc. etc.
Monday October 6th
I guess I can’t get pissed off, even if I wanted to on the Cymbalta. I should be having fits. I called Dr. Heart2 to find out if the open-heart surgery is this Thursday only to discover the office appointment was this Thursday. I was on the phone for so long trying to get through to my county caseworker and not succeeding, that I had to reschedule the follow up appointment with Dr. Pfoot for Wednesday. Dr. Mind is out this Wednesday, so that’s okay.
I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get through the press-this to talk to them, press that-to talk to her, only to get caught in a loop of invalid extensions and full voicemail boxes. Where do I go from here, well either off the balcony or swallowing all of my pills. My disability check will drop again when I have to start paying $125+ for medicare until I fill out the paperwork turning it down because I can’t afford it.
Wednesday October 8th
The appointment at Dr. Pfoot’s was very bizarre. I had about 10 doctors there all wanting to see my xrays and all Ooooos and Ahhhhhs. Apparently a new procedure was used to put my arm back together and I didn’t need the cadaver bones after all; or for that matter, a cast!
He said he wanted to wait an additional 6-weeks before giving permission for my heart surgery.
I’ve been doing stretching exercises to try to limber up the sore muscles. I still can’t reach my mouth with my right hand and a spoon. I’m eating mostly sandwiches and finger food that isn’t good for me.
Thursday October 9th
Dr. S-heart’s office turned out to be way out by Mt. Carmel East Hospital. He explained that my heart is in very bad shape and we have to get it worked on soon or I may die waiting. One chamber in my heart is expanded to a little over twice its size and the muscle that operates it is dead. Sometimes it empties and it takes 2-3 beats to refill before blood goes to the next chamber. That’s what causes the blackouts and faints.
He tells me I’ve got a 17% chance of dying on the table and another 17 that I’ll have a stroke. He has to wait for Dr. P-foot’s permission before he can operate. GB will probably use it as an excuse not to send me workman’s comp checks till my knee is operated on.
I was so distracted with worry and confusion that I nearly ass-ended a car. Why do these things keep happening to me? Driving one-handed is not only painful but dangerous, Thank god I’ve got an automatic transmission, because I could never drive a stick in that much pain. Parallel parking is an adventure of reaching my left hand over my lap to operate the gearshift.
Friday October 10th
Right on cue, GB e-mailed me because I missed my appointment last Monday, and they only have paperwork that would’ve paid me up to Sept 22nd, which means if I can’t get an appointment by Friday, I may actually owe them.
Groan
Dr. Mind’s boss at Ohio State University called this evening to check on me, I gave him the details of how I’m beginning to feel crushed from the load this bullshit about my checks is putting on me. I read him a transcript about a nightmare I had, and we talked a while longer. He’s a really nice guy.
After I got off the phone with him, I felt hungry, but did NOT want to cook, so I shocked myself and went to the local Donatos and ordered two Italian subs… They were sooooooo good.
Saturday October 11th
My mom and sister in Pittsburgh keep bugging me for an exact date of my heart surgery, and when they can’t get an answer from me that they’re satisfied with, they talked my brother in Seattle into trying to sweet-talk it out of me. I hate how suspicious of them I am, but other than very rare occasions, I only seem to get god’s judgment from them. It’s been getting so intense, that I’m beginning to think of them as vultures circling over head, waiting to get their hands on my stuff and the photos I was given by the reverend that they all are so intent in getting.
I can still hear my sister’s voice in the background while I was talking to my mother, calling me a thief at the top of her lungs with as much venom and hatred as she could muster. From that point forward, I don’t think I can trust any friendly overtures she may send my way.
Which is a shame.
Sunday October 12th
I woke up this morning with my upper right arm aching so badly, I broke down and took a Oxycodone. It eased the pain but I suffered from dry-mouth the rest of the day. I’ve been going over my budget, and I don’t dare let my car payment or my rent go late. I got my medical/Medicaid card for October so I guess this’ll be the last time I get help from Medicaid to buy prescriptions.
My arm is feeling a little better. I hope I don’t get hooked on the Oxycodone. Fat chance; the dry mouth leaves such a terrible taste and is almost worse than the pain.
I’m seriously looking at using my handy pill splitter to try to make the medications last. I know it’s wrong, because half doses may not keep the proper amount of drug in my blood stream, but prescriptions could go from $15 a month to well over 200 or maybe even 300.
My eyes feel like they’re burning as if I’m trying to cry-god I wish I could. Never in my worst-case scenarios did I ever think I’d be so bad off that I’d have to choose between eating and my pills. The only way a workable budget is possible is if I reduce myself down to one meal a day.
God I hate this. I crawled up in a fetal ball and slept the rest of the day.
Monday October 13th
Déjà vu, I have an appointment at the heart clinic and one at Work Health (the people that authorize my work comp checks). My heart still sounds okay, I lost about 5 pounds and all my blood levels were okay, except the potassium level, so I had to take two of these god-awful horse pills that make me choke.
I went to Work Health afterward and after taking about the problem with my heart interfering with my leg operation, I filled out the forms and hoped for the best.
I went on line trying to find a duplicate of my watch again… no luck.
I went online to reorder my meds from Wal-Mart for pick up, only to discover all of my insulin prescriptions had expired. I called Dr. S-clinic and got an appointment for Monday to get the prescriptions so I could pick them all up at once.
Friday October 17th
Teresa surprised me with a phone call this morning and in passing, said she’d found my class ring!!! I was so happy, especially after my watch was destroyed in the fall. After I hung up with her, I went and looked, but it wasn’t where she said it was. At least I know it’s here somewhere instead of under my car seat or on a sidewalk somewhere.
I used to be a big fan of “The Four Tops” a Motown group responsible for such hits as “Sugar Pie honey bunch” ect. My old writer “self” is tempted to write up a BlogCritic’s article on him. I fell this afternoon and had to swing myself around so that I didn’t land on my right arm. I couldn’t get up and realized just how trapped I’d be here alone. Eventually I worked my way into the living room, where I have a swivel office chair. I struggled my back onto the seat, then pushed it backward against the couch so I could slide up in it into a seated position. I was panting and exhausted by the time I was able to sit up, so I watched TV for an hour.
Lately I haven’t had an appetite, but if I don’t eat I could make the problem worse. I hate feeling helpless; I hate being alone and friendless because my depression won’t let me deal with only a select few. Sometimes I with I could just die of natural causes and have it over with.
I watched TV and ate a frozen dinner, then went to bed.
Saturday October 18th
I wrote an obituary and submitted it to BC this morning. They were so impressed, they rushed it on to the website. I checked on the comments this evening and part of Levi’s family were so touched, they started using the comments section of the article to communicate with their relatives. I’m really honored. I just wish there was some way to get paid for it.
Monday October 20th
Stopped by the outpatient clinic of Grant Hospital to get my insulin prescription. He wrote it out for 12 months. I just hope my medical card covers it.
Got home this afternoon, more bills etc. I went through them and discovered that Medicare instead of GB is paying Dr. Mind.
I found my class ring. I’ve worn the damned thing for more years than I care to admit to, and I’m just happy to have it back on my finger.
Wednesday October 22nd
After searching the Internet again high and low I still couldn’t find a replacement for my watch. It’s a hybrid analog and digital with an alarm, chronograph and hourly chime. I’ve got to be out and about today so I took it with me hoping some clerk would say they had something like it.
Went to my first session with Dr. Morrison in about a month and a half today. I took all the paperwork with me concerning GB, Work Health, and Social Security, and she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. I’m reluctant to pour out my heart to her, now that GB is making her turn over her notes on our sessions to her. I don’t see how she can help unless I’m completely open with her.
Afterwards, I made a trek out to Westland Mall, where I first bought the watch and I couldn’t believe my eyes. At first I thought the whole mall was closed but Sears was open, so I tried there first. The cheapest watch they had was over $400.
Unfortunately the mall doesn’t have motorized handicapped carts, so I had to take it slow and rest a lot. I was completely dumbfounded. In a hustling bustling mall with over 60-70 shops, all but about five were open. The place was deserted, the spop windows empty or papered over. The two jewelry stores that had anything were way out of my price range.
I figured since I was in the area, I drove down Georgesville road to check the big Meijer’s department store… it was closed! Drove home in a daze. I cut through downtown and headed towards Wal-mart via Morse Road and since I was now aware of them, I was shocked to find the biggest Lincoln Mercury dealership in the area was sitting empty and shops all over the place were too.
I’ve got to get out more.
Came home and ate dinner, watched a TV show or two and collapsed into bed.
Saturday October 25th
I got another confirmation letter in the mail about a three-year-old clerical error. My disability checks have been reduced from $484 to $328 a month because the County Medicaid no longer pays my Medicare premiums, so they’re being taking out of my checks. I got to work writing the formulas for my 2009 financial spreadsheet, and within an hour or so I’d become mentally numb to the point of just sitting here staring at the monitor, but not thinking anything. I took my afternoon pills and went to bet around 7PM
October 26th to the end of the month
The last week of October is a mystery to me. I felt trapped in a mental maze with no way out. If I report my new income to Medicaid, I’d be eligible again for them to take over my Medicare payments. But the moment that happens they’ll stop deducting the payments from my Disability checks, which would raise my income back up to being too high to qualify for Medicare help, so they’ll stop and my checks will sink back to $324, which will make me eligible for Medicare help………
For some reason today, I was thinking about how much I missed my brother. Up until now my mother, oldest sister and brother have been religiously indifferent at best towards me, at times not even acknowledging that we were related. My Pittsburgh sister even went so far as to not tell her current husband and son that I even existed until my father's death. Suddenly all three are insisting that I tell them when the surgery is. Considering that it's at least two months from now so I can stabilize, they'll probably think me a liar (as usual) when I deny knowing the exact date.
I’m trying to side on the premise that they’re worried about losing their heathen brother/son and are genuinely concerned, but my family has a history during such occasions. I'll make friends and get on a warm relationship with one, and we're so worried about it blowing up like a newly found landmine that we usually back off before it (or one of us) blows up. Only my sister in Oregon and my trusted aunt in Pittsburgh accept me for what and who I am.
After sending out a bunch of e-mails about going in for triple bypass surgery to my friends, I re-checked the paperwork and could only find a confirmation appointment with the surgeon on the 9th. I called his office and was told he needed the arm/knee surgeon’s permission to proceed, but I still needed to come into his office for an EKG.
I'm told that when my uncle Wayne died, one of my relatives flew out and descended on his home, and then proceeded to strip it of every valuable he had before my mom even knew he’d died. I felt for her because I knew she must've been heartbroken.
Right after my father’s death in 2006, other family members in effect did the same thing, because due to a legal loophole that said that our minister didn’t have legal sway over dad’s possessions until he’d passed some test so he could become his legal executor, anyone could go in and grab anything out of his house and legally get away with it.
I remember being struck by being told that when an inventory was made of his house, the one that that struck him as unusual was that every bit of cash, even some furniture was stripped from his house. When (and after) the reverend finally got around to finalizing the will, I was invited down in the aftermath, and he gave me a half-full box of photographs that apparently someone had hoarded away, meaning to pick up later… Knowing how concerned about the photos my family was, I called to say I had the old photos and that they were in safe hands. While on the phone with my mother, I could clearly hear in the background as my sister began screaming at the top of her lungs that I was a thief and had stolen them.
Because of my knee and foot, I couldn’t load up my car, so the reverend and his son did it for me, so whatever I have, I have legally… their protests be damned. As a point of fact, I wasn't even aware of most of what he'd given me until I'd driven hundreds of miles back home and unpacked it. The items were his decision as executor, not mine.
Later when I tried to boot up my dad's computer, I discovered the routine had been sabotaged so it couldn't be. I pulled his hard drive, reconfigured it as a storage/slave drive on my own computer, and then discovered that many of his computer files had been accessed... days and weeks after his death/funeral. Some of his diary files were protected by passwords and hidden within system files where no one would think to look for them, so I had the hard drive documented and its files put on dvd/discs so I could read them later. The point here being, someone sat in front of his computer after his death, and when they couldn't find the files I later found (possibly because they knew they were there somewhere) they decided that if they couldn't have them, no one could.
Considering the disdain my oldest sister has always had for me, and how she instilled that into my mother who went to live with her, I can't be less than suspicious when she/they suddenly wanted to come and pray over me. At one time or another they've expressed out-and-out hatred, resentment or disdain, usually ending with them wishing they'd never knew their perverted, and immoral brother.
I fear that the moment I go into surgery, they’ll arrive at my door, insisting that my apartment building manager let them in in an attempt to recover my dad's transcribed diaries off of my computer... they seem to be that obsessed with them. After reading some of them, I can see why. I can think of no other motivation for them to suddenly have such a drastic change of heart and want to be near me in my desperate hour of need.
It’s a terrible thing to think, but they have a track record, and I’ve heard of other incidents... you'll note that no names have been mentioned here for legal reasons, so if the guilty raise hell it's only out of their own guilty conscience. No one else could possibly figure out who I was talking about.
My shrink “Dr. Mind” is gone for two weeks, which means I haven’t seen her for over a month, which might explain the paranoia.
Thursday October 2nd
I guess I better brace myself for another financial disaster, no county health card in the mail, which means no help with the Medicare co-pays and no prescription help.
Nearly puked trying to clean out the fridge, the stench of three-week-old ground chuck while I was in the hospital is overwhelming and I ended up tying a wet towel around my face. Rotting red cabbage heads and assorted veggies all went into a big garbage bag. When I tried to lift it, I knew I was in trouble, because I’d never make it down to the dumpster with it, I’m so weak. I tied it off, put it in another bag, and another, if it’s gets to bad I guess I can carry it out on my balcony to freeze over the winter and worry about it after I have my heart and knee operated on.
Spent the afternoon and pulled everything out of the freezer and wiped the whole fridge down with sanitizer.
Friday October 3rd
I woke up screaming last night. The former me, the 30-year-old muscle me of the mid-80s came into my bedroom, took one look at the “me” that he would become, and pulled a revolver out of his pocket, stuck it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
I’ve been popping Oxycodone for the arm pain, and the dry-mouth is horrible. It comes on instantly and if a glass of water isn’t near, it’s hell. The garbage bag with the old food in it is expanding. I asked one of the janitor/repair guys if they could lug it down to the dumpster for me, but he hasn’t shown up yet.
I’m in hell, trying to do everything with my left hand. With the entire fridge’s worth of food ruined, I drove one-handed to Wal-Mart. Reaching across myself to shift gears while parking, trying to snap the shoulder harness into its clip with my left hand and worst of all trying to get the key in the ignition with my left hand.
At lease it was warm enough today to cruise around with the top down.
Came home with only a two-day supply because I forgot to take my little two-wheeled basket cart with me, so I had to limit what groceries I could carry up from the car.
Just when I had a hopeless feeling about to overwhelm me, Dr. Mind’s supervisor called me this evening to make sure I was all right. He was great and talked to me for about an hour and a half. I found out later he is in charge of the whole psyche department at Ohio State, and that he’d put everything aside just to talk to me… wow.
I got more mail from the county, Social Security and GB. It’s becoming so overwhelming that I chucked it all into an upper cubbyhole of my desk and slept the evening and into the night.
Sunday October 5th
I finally got around to opening a bunch of mail; Social Security says that due to a clerical error from three years ago, they might be reducing my monthly checks by $60 from $484 to $424. Great; just great. I went the rest of the day in a blue funk, mostly sleeping for a couple hours than up for a few etc. etc. etc.
Monday October 6th
I guess I can’t get pissed off, even if I wanted to on the Cymbalta. I should be having fits. I called Dr. Heart2 to find out if the open-heart surgery is this Thursday only to discover the office appointment was this Thursday. I was on the phone for so long trying to get through to my county caseworker and not succeeding, that I had to reschedule the follow up appointment with Dr. Pfoot for Wednesday. Dr. Mind is out this Wednesday, so that’s okay.
I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get through the press-this to talk to them, press that-to talk to her, only to get caught in a loop of invalid extensions and full voicemail boxes. Where do I go from here, well either off the balcony or swallowing all of my pills. My disability check will drop again when I have to start paying $125+ for medicare until I fill out the paperwork turning it down because I can’t afford it.
Wednesday October 8th
The appointment at Dr. Pfoot’s was very bizarre. I had about 10 doctors there all wanting to see my xrays and all Ooooos and Ahhhhhs. Apparently a new procedure was used to put my arm back together and I didn’t need the cadaver bones after all; or for that matter, a cast!
He said he wanted to wait an additional 6-weeks before giving permission for my heart surgery.
I’ve been doing stretching exercises to try to limber up the sore muscles. I still can’t reach my mouth with my right hand and a spoon. I’m eating mostly sandwiches and finger food that isn’t good for me.
Thursday October 9th
Dr. S-heart’s office turned out to be way out by Mt. Carmel East Hospital. He explained that my heart is in very bad shape and we have to get it worked on soon or I may die waiting. One chamber in my heart is expanded to a little over twice its size and the muscle that operates it is dead. Sometimes it empties and it takes 2-3 beats to refill before blood goes to the next chamber. That’s what causes the blackouts and faints.
He tells me I’ve got a 17% chance of dying on the table and another 17 that I’ll have a stroke. He has to wait for Dr. P-foot’s permission before he can operate. GB will probably use it as an excuse not to send me workman’s comp checks till my knee is operated on.
I was so distracted with worry and confusion that I nearly ass-ended a car. Why do these things keep happening to me? Driving one-handed is not only painful but dangerous, Thank god I’ve got an automatic transmission, because I could never drive a stick in that much pain. Parallel parking is an adventure of reaching my left hand over my lap to operate the gearshift.
Friday October 10th
Right on cue, GB e-mailed me because I missed my appointment last Monday, and they only have paperwork that would’ve paid me up to Sept 22nd, which means if I can’t get an appointment by Friday, I may actually owe them.
Groan
Dr. Mind’s boss at Ohio State University called this evening to check on me, I gave him the details of how I’m beginning to feel crushed from the load this bullshit about my checks is putting on me. I read him a transcript about a nightmare I had, and we talked a while longer. He’s a really nice guy.
After I got off the phone with him, I felt hungry, but did NOT want to cook, so I shocked myself and went to the local Donatos and ordered two Italian subs… They were sooooooo good.
Saturday October 11th
My mom and sister in Pittsburgh keep bugging me for an exact date of my heart surgery, and when they can’t get an answer from me that they’re satisfied with, they talked my brother in Seattle into trying to sweet-talk it out of me. I hate how suspicious of them I am, but other than very rare occasions, I only seem to get god’s judgment from them. It’s been getting so intense, that I’m beginning to think of them as vultures circling over head, waiting to get their hands on my stuff and the photos I was given by the reverend that they all are so intent in getting.
I can still hear my sister’s voice in the background while I was talking to my mother, calling me a thief at the top of her lungs with as much venom and hatred as she could muster. From that point forward, I don’t think I can trust any friendly overtures she may send my way.
Which is a shame.
Sunday October 12th
I woke up this morning with my upper right arm aching so badly, I broke down and took a Oxycodone. It eased the pain but I suffered from dry-mouth the rest of the day. I’ve been going over my budget, and I don’t dare let my car payment or my rent go late. I got my medical/Medicaid card for October so I guess this’ll be the last time I get help from Medicaid to buy prescriptions.
My arm is feeling a little better. I hope I don’t get hooked on the Oxycodone. Fat chance; the dry mouth leaves such a terrible taste and is almost worse than the pain.
I’m seriously looking at using my handy pill splitter to try to make the medications last. I know it’s wrong, because half doses may not keep the proper amount of drug in my blood stream, but prescriptions could go from $15 a month to well over 200 or maybe even 300.
My eyes feel like they’re burning as if I’m trying to cry-god I wish I could. Never in my worst-case scenarios did I ever think I’d be so bad off that I’d have to choose between eating and my pills. The only way a workable budget is possible is if I reduce myself down to one meal a day.
God I hate this. I crawled up in a fetal ball and slept the rest of the day.
Monday October 13th
Déjà vu, I have an appointment at the heart clinic and one at Work Health (the people that authorize my work comp checks). My heart still sounds okay, I lost about 5 pounds and all my blood levels were okay, except the potassium level, so I had to take two of these god-awful horse pills that make me choke.
I went to Work Health afterward and after taking about the problem with my heart interfering with my leg operation, I filled out the forms and hoped for the best.
I went on line trying to find a duplicate of my watch again… no luck.
I went online to reorder my meds from Wal-Mart for pick up, only to discover all of my insulin prescriptions had expired. I called Dr. S-clinic and got an appointment for Monday to get the prescriptions so I could pick them all up at once.
Friday October 17th
Teresa surprised me with a phone call this morning and in passing, said she’d found my class ring!!! I was so happy, especially after my watch was destroyed in the fall. After I hung up with her, I went and looked, but it wasn’t where she said it was. At least I know it’s here somewhere instead of under my car seat or on a sidewalk somewhere.
I used to be a big fan of “The Four Tops” a Motown group responsible for such hits as “Sugar Pie honey bunch” ect. My old writer “self” is tempted to write up a BlogCritic’s article on him. I fell this afternoon and had to swing myself around so that I didn’t land on my right arm. I couldn’t get up and realized just how trapped I’d be here alone. Eventually I worked my way into the living room, where I have a swivel office chair. I struggled my back onto the seat, then pushed it backward against the couch so I could slide up in it into a seated position. I was panting and exhausted by the time I was able to sit up, so I watched TV for an hour.
Lately I haven’t had an appetite, but if I don’t eat I could make the problem worse. I hate feeling helpless; I hate being alone and friendless because my depression won’t let me deal with only a select few. Sometimes I with I could just die of natural causes and have it over with.
I watched TV and ate a frozen dinner, then went to bed.
Saturday October 18th
I wrote an obituary and submitted it to BC this morning. They were so impressed, they rushed it on to the website. I checked on the comments this evening and part of Levi’s family were so touched, they started using the comments section of the article to communicate with their relatives. I’m really honored. I just wish there was some way to get paid for it.
Monday October 20th
Stopped by the outpatient clinic of Grant Hospital to get my insulin prescription. He wrote it out for 12 months. I just hope my medical card covers it.
Got home this afternoon, more bills etc. I went through them and discovered that Medicare instead of GB is paying Dr. Mind.
I found my class ring. I’ve worn the damned thing for more years than I care to admit to, and I’m just happy to have it back on my finger.
Wednesday October 22nd
After searching the Internet again high and low I still couldn’t find a replacement for my watch. It’s a hybrid analog and digital with an alarm, chronograph and hourly chime. I’ve got to be out and about today so I took it with me hoping some clerk would say they had something like it.
Went to my first session with Dr. Morrison in about a month and a half today. I took all the paperwork with me concerning GB, Work Health, and Social Security, and she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. I’m reluctant to pour out my heart to her, now that GB is making her turn over her notes on our sessions to her. I don’t see how she can help unless I’m completely open with her.
Afterwards, I made a trek out to Westland Mall, where I first bought the watch and I couldn’t believe my eyes. At first I thought the whole mall was closed but Sears was open, so I tried there first. The cheapest watch they had was over $400.
Unfortunately the mall doesn’t have motorized handicapped carts, so I had to take it slow and rest a lot. I was completely dumbfounded. In a hustling bustling mall with over 60-70 shops, all but about five were open. The place was deserted, the spop windows empty or papered over. The two jewelry stores that had anything were way out of my price range.
I figured since I was in the area, I drove down Georgesville road to check the big Meijer’s department store… it was closed! Drove home in a daze. I cut through downtown and headed towards Wal-mart via Morse Road and since I was now aware of them, I was shocked to find the biggest Lincoln Mercury dealership in the area was sitting empty and shops all over the place were too.
I’ve got to get out more.
Came home and ate dinner, watched a TV show or two and collapsed into bed.
Saturday October 25th
I got another confirmation letter in the mail about a three-year-old clerical error. My disability checks have been reduced from $484 to $328 a month because the County Medicaid no longer pays my Medicare premiums, so they’re being taking out of my checks. I got to work writing the formulas for my 2009 financial spreadsheet, and within an hour or so I’d become mentally numb to the point of just sitting here staring at the monitor, but not thinking anything. I took my afternoon pills and went to bet around 7PM
October 26th to the end of the month
The last week of October is a mystery to me. I felt trapped in a mental maze with no way out. If I report my new income to Medicaid, I’d be eligible again for them to take over my Medicare payments. But the moment that happens they’ll stop deducting the payments from my Disability checks, which would raise my income back up to being too high to qualify for Medicare help, so they’ll stop and my checks will sink back to $324, which will make me eligible for Medicare help………
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