Thursday the 1st-April fool’s day!
I had a strange dream last night about hitting some standing water during a flood and my car disintegrated. I actually got out and lifted it up above my head and carried it to the other side, all the time scared that my heart would give out, in order to keep the engine dry so it’d start on the opposite hill. Just by coincidence an old backyard mechanic offered to help me put it back together so I waded back into the flood and picked up floating plastic pieces of the car as if it’d been made out of a model kit I used to build as a kid. The man asked me to hand him a giant tube of model glue when a collection agency call woke me up before I could find out what happened next.
I got a total of 9 collection agency calls. One lady kept calling over and over because she liked my answering machine message and kept giggling. She’s a problem because if the machine is turned off, it’ll pick up after 10 rings but not play the message in order for me to turn it on remotely. She lets it ring that long thinking it’ll eventually answer, where the callbots hang up after five… sigh
I got some interesting news. BC has decided to share their ad revenue on our articles with us through Adsense. Joy. What that means is that I can now track how many of my readers log on at their website. Since they’re using the ugly text ads instead of pictures, I doubt that any of us will make anything, because it’s still only pennies a click like on my own sites. Since BC is simply tacking on another ad, they’re not really “revenue sharing” since the meager pay out comes from Adsense instead of them… Beggars can’t be choosers. Maybe I’ll get a check finally in 2011 instead of 2012… whoopie
I’m down to four diabetic Janumet tablets left and then I’m out. Dr. Mind told me Wednesday that the charity pharmacy at the church across the way might let me avail myself of them. I called them once a few weeks ago and got nowhere, but I might give it another try.
Aunt Margaret called with some good news, her kidney function is improving and she’s losing weight. She’s in her seventies and on dialysis and I’ve been worried about her. Betsy called and I’m pissed at myself for letting it slip that I’d found out in my father’s diary that he was blackmailing my Uncle Wayne on my mom’s side over the years for money to gamble and lose in the stock market. He’d threatened to report him as gay to the military when he was in Vietnam, which would’ve risked his 30-year pension with a dishonorable discharge. I’d learned so many heartless things about him and my family that my parents shielded from us that I destroyed the hard drive it was on to keep them from reading it in case something happened to me.
Tomorrow’s going to be rough. I’m going to have to write the rent check, but it’ll bounce if I don’t take some collectible $2 bills and deposit them in my checking. Soon I’ll have to dip into my Eisenhower silver dollars again and the Kennedy halves. God I hate this. I’m reluctantly thinking of swallowing my pride and asking Dave in Australia for the help he offered, but like I said before, I feel like a bum with a cardboard sign at the end of a freeway exit begging for coins.
I don’t know what else to do.
I’ve started thinking about giving all of my possessions away to friends, finding a home for the cat and then just giving up… I know I won’t, but I can’t escape the thoughts and it bothers me. I just hope I can hold on until Friday next week when the next GB check comes and hope that Mischief’s cat food holds out that long.
I’m now using my syringes five times before tossing them-mainly because the needles get so dull I have to push to get them to puncture the skin. In order to get more I’d need a prescription, and to get that I’d have to pay the clinic $10 that I don’t have to see the doctor… then I wouldn’t have enough to buy the damned things…
Fuck
Friday the 2nd
God how I hated to do what I just did this morning, I was on the verge of tears into the afternoon. For about the last twenty years, I got accustomed to doing things like over-the-top tipping. An example was that once I took my friend Brenda in Pittsburgh out to lunch at a Big Boy’s restaurant and told our server that if he had any hope for a tip, he must never let my glass of lemonade go dry… The guy nearly drowned me in it. When I got up to pay I didn’t leave a tip, but at the cash register I asked to see the manager, complimented our waiter, paid the tab, which I think came to only about $16 for the two of us and then handed the bewildered guy a $20 tip. When I was out on business, I’d stop at a bank occasionally and ask if they had any $2 bills or giant Eisenhower silver dollars, and then I’d use them as tips for pizza guys and servers etc. When I’d get home from the road I’d dump it all in a glass jar, forget about them, and then have to buy more when I went out again. I once left a girl a penny tip with a note warning her not to spend it. It was a steel penny from the 40s during World War II when copper was needed and the U.S. minted them out of steel instead.
I pulled that glass jar down today; only this time I emptied it. Along with a $5 gambling chip from the MGM Grand, I have 61 Eisenhowers left, 82 bicentennial Kennedy halves, 40 bicentennial quarters, 28 state quarters and 51 $2 bills. I went through the bills and kept only the near perfect ones. Dumped the quarters in the regular laundry change, took my uncirculated Susan B. Anthony dollars and put everything else back in the jar. My Uncle Wayne helped me start collecting the Eisenhowers and they’ll be the last to go.
I’ve been calling dealers and collectors who will only give me face value for my collectible currency. In this economy that’s the only way they can make money reselling them, and my putting them on e-bay is worse because I’d have to pay percentage fees, postage to mail them to buyers, Pay-Pal would want their cut and in the end I’d make nothing… soooooooo… I reluctantly went into my library and got my old coin books too and then broke all of the pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters out of their little holes and rolled them… even the “S” mint coins and now I’ve got to find a way to deposit it all in the bank without breaking down and crying in line. My God this hurts. They’re one of the last vestiges of my former life and the touch of every coin had a good memory that I didn’t want to let go. I’m tearing up now just thinking about it.
It’s true what they say about the friends that stick by you when things go sour. People like Dr. Mind, Teresa, Brenda, Brock, my sister Betsy and Aunt Margaret. It hurts just how many people I thought I was really close to that haven’t called for years now. It’s like people that you were really close to at work that you said you’d keep in touch with and then never heard from again. I ache for the days when I sometimes had to take the phone off the hook because people were calling me from all over the country just to say “hi!” or on my “brick” cell phone where every minute you spent was a fortuned. Now the only calls I get are collection agents. They came up with a new tactic today that’s really low, they use cell phones that can be programmed to display non-existant phone numbers on your caller I.D. I got two of them today while I was out.
The bank went smoothly. I’ve now got enough to cover the rent check, buy cat food and enough groceries to last until next Friday… I hope. This time I remembered to take the calculator with me to Wal-Mart. More paper plates and plastic silver wear… groan. IT WAS SUCH A BEAUUUUUTIFUL day today. Nothing but sunny skies and temperatures in the 80s-perfect for “cruising around with the top down”. If I weren’t so low on gas I’d have driven all day.
When I’d gotten home, the phone was ringing and Betsy was calling to warn me that my mom was in Ohio… just what I don’t need. Her birthday is tomorrow. Any other time I’d welcome a visit from her, but in my state of mind I’d be afraid of my reaction to one of her motherly sermons. I plan to call her tomorrow and e-mail her a picture of her father that I enhanced from a photo so dark you couldn’t see anything. As I worked on it, I was surprised to find him crouching down and holding what was apparently his favorite hunting dog. I hope she likes it. Mom used to pull these surprise attacks on me where she’d drive all the way from Pittsburgh to Columbus without telling me and then calling me for directions from some payphone a few miles out of town, usually just as I was leaving for an art job or to go to the airport on a business trip. I miss how we used to get along together before she found Jesus and moved in with my sister Dee; and after I read my father’s diary.
I got on line to double check, because I can’t remember getting an e-mail from the state of Ohio saying my plates were about to expire and it was time to renew before my birthday on May 2nd, and discovered that in a rare moment of having some extra money last year I’d renewed them for two years so they don’t expire until 2011!!!!!!!! Which may or may not be a moot point if I can’t get my eyes fixed before I have to renew my license.
BC’s tracker software works. I’m really excited to see where some of the article’s I’ve written on Science and Gay Pride are still getting hundreds of visitors a day… as predicted though, no one’s clicking on the ads on those pages over there either.
It’s now 4:05AM Saturday morning and I just might be able to get some sleep. I just put up a post-it note in the middle of my monitor to remember to write a check for the rent and to call mom tomorrow (today) when I wake up…
Over the weekend the 3rd & 4th
Saturday
I called my mom Saturday on her birthday (she’s 74). The friendly call went for about three minutes until I asked if she’d heard from my Aunt Margaret (her sister) lately. I meant to tell her the good news that her kidney function was improving, but I never got a chance when Mom started going off on me about her (they’re apparently still not speaking) so I decided to get off the phone before it got worse. I was glad that mom is feeling feisty anyway and she sounds like Dee’s taking good care of her.
After reading a few on-line articles, I’ve decided to experiment with adding a three-tone code to the beginning of my answering machine. It seems that automated callers listen for the tones that the phone company uses to signal a disconnected line and then stop calling. I can only hope this works, because I could use some peace.
It started getting really warm over the weekend, which meant switching on the air conditioning. I shudder to think what the next electric bill will be like. I’m still down about having to cash in all of those Susan B. Anthony’s and the $2 bills. I covered the rent check, but only have enough left to buy Mischief some more cat food-She’s got about a day’s worth left. Thank god for Dr. Mind and her coupons.
I woke up this morning to the sound of a “boom car” out in the parking lot pumping out bass at a level normally reserved for movie theater coming attractions. After about an hour, I realized it was coming from within the building not outside and I went down one floor in the elevator to discover it was coming from my neighbor directly beneath me. I knocked and formed a suicide pact with him that if he comes to me with a noise complaint first instead of going to the apt. bldg. Manager, I’ll do the same for him. He off-handedly mentioned that he’s still waiting for me to move out of my penthouse so he can move in and I told him I’ve lived here 22-years and there’s no way I’m leaving. After I left him I wondered if Rich had started the waiting list on my apartment (that’s how I got in) after sitting downstairs for 9 years on that same list. I have the only one bedroom penthouse in both buildings in the complex. All the others are 2-bedrooms on two floors, so I have the only one-bedroom apartment with wall-to-wall glass and a private balcony. I called Rich and he said there’s no waiting list on any apartments… damn-now I’ll have to find something else to be paranoid about instead.
Betsy called and needs more of my unused pain meds for the calcium spur in her foot. I’m only too glad to do it for her. God I envy how happy she is with Norm.
Sunday
Spent the morning going over Dad’s old photos again and decided to take a break and watch some TV. I looked in the aquarium and the giant plecostomus was out from under his rocks and I was determined that today was the day I’d catch the fucker come hell or high water. I got a big plastic garbage bag and disassembled the three-foot tall rock face I had in the aquarium piece by piece. I had a great “upside down” waterfall that I hated to disassemble, which was achieved by running air lines under it which bubbled up the rocks, but I was determined to snag him. He’s so big that when he moves out from under the rocks he tears up the plants. I’ve got a pet shop up by Wal-Mart that trades my big ones (the bigger the tank-the bigger the fish grow) for little ones. The aquarium is self-sufficient because I get a little three-inch plecostomus, let it grow to 12-inches and then trade it in on another three-incher plus more fish, plants and aquarium supplies with no money changing hands. They’re only open until 5PM on Sundays so I was going to have to hurry.
It was another BEAAAAAUUUUUTTTTTIFUL sunny day-just perfect for 20-minute driving up north.
Anyway, the little brat is fast and in no time plants were floating all over the place. Then it occurred to me to use one of the 14 x 20 glass top cover plates to set vertically in the water to block his escape and within ten minutes I had him caught! I put him up in a gallon freezer bag, got cleaned up and drove out to Jack’s Aquariums prepared to brag of my accomplishment after trying for 3 months to catch the little fucker…
Jack’s was closed Easter Sunday. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
I came all the way back home with him and didn’t remember I needed cat food until I pulled in the drive way. Oh well, tomorrow’s another day. I punched a bunch of holes in the bag for water circulation and hung it in the tank.
I spent the evening pondering my artwork. I was the kind of artist that would get excited about my next art job ¾ of the way through the one I was working on currently. Then I’d want to hurry and finish it so I could get to the next one… and so on… and so on. It occurred to me that that’s the way I used to live-always looking to the future. Now it’s depressing to think that I don’t seem to have a future… well, I do, but not one worth looking forward to. All I see is hunger, loneliness, ill health and inability to pay the bills. I gave up some of what was left of my financial stability when that collectible currency went out the door, and the hurtful part of it was that those coins and bills were collected for fun, not what they’d be worth in the future. They were something I liked to do-not an investment. It’s like all of the beautiful chess sets I used to own; at one point I began running out of places to display them all and began suspending the boards with pieces on them from the ceiling on threads as if they were suspended in mid air.
I had to run the air conditioning again today. I’ve noticed that now that it’s unusually warm this early in the year and there’s flooding everywhere that the Republicans and religious fundamentalists have suddenly shut up about global warming… maybe I’ll write an article.
Tuesday the 6th
I finally made it up to Jack’s yesterday and traded the plecostomus in on a 2 incher some tangerine swordtails and Dalmatian mollies. They look great in my tank. I’m only disappointed that they didn’t have any tall plants to trade for. I nearly ran out of gas again and the car started hesitating. I limped it to a gas station and was appalled to discover gas is back up to $3 fucking gallons again. I bought less than a quarter tank on $15. Monday was spent frantically trying to finish cataloging dad’s photos and harvesting more from the DVDs of his hard drive. The mailing box is “priority mail” so it’ll only take 2-3 days to get it to Betsy with my left over antibiotics included in it.
I called Tressa again and still no authorization for the physical therapy. She says she logged onto the BWC website and one wasn’t even submitted. I called Cheryl over at Dr. Knee’s and got her voicemail… again.
This diabetes thing is getting rough. I’ve got about six test strips left and I’m judging how much insulin to take by how sweet my lips taste-which probably isn’t a good idea. I stopped off at Wal-Mart and bought Mischief some cat food just as she ran out. While there I picked up five Snickers bars incase I overdose the insulin. This financial thing is getting old really fast.
I woke up screaming Tuesday morning, but I don’t know why. I just had an overwhelming feeling of residual horror. I’ve had daytime flashbacks of the door being broken down complete with sound effects and I’ve started having painful full-body shudders again. The clinic called yesterday to remind me of my appointment tomorrow afternoon. I was going to use my last $20 to have my ink cartridges refilled so I can start sending letters to all of the collection agencies, but I guess that’s out, as I’ll have to spend it on the clinic fee on Thursday.
I’m hurting really bad. I used to have one hell of a support system… no, I’ll rephrase that-I used to be one hell of a support system. I could reach out when I needed emotional support and there were always people there to take my hand almost before I could extend it, and I did the same for them. Now it’s like there’s no one, and the few that are left that really care are hundreds of miles away and/or have families to care for that care for them. I used to be able to reach out and there’d be a warm caring body next to me or in my bed to comfort me when I was low… now when I reach out I only get empty air.
The overwhelming feeling of loneliness can swamp my thoughts for hours at a time these days and it hurts. I’m reminded of it now that the weather’s sunny, because I go out with the top down and while I’m driving I’m my old self for a little while… then I come home
Wednesday the 7th
Dr. Mind talked to me today about joining the Metropolitan Community Church as a way of trying to break out of my shell, but I still have such a problem with dealing in person with strangers that I doubted it’d take place. Besides even though it’s a famous gay church, I’m still having issues with Christianity right now. I had a rather spirited argument with my printer this morning that made me late to see her. I finally got it to squeeze out the last drop of ink to print this cycle’s diary entries to read to her and ran out of paper to print it on… groan.
When I got home for some reason I felt energetic, and did something I haven’t had the stamina or strength to do in quite some time… I drained 40 gallons (half) off of the aquarium and then put 40 more of fresh water in it. It felt good to suddenly realize that I could haul 5-gallon buckets between the living room and the bathroom. At 8 pounds per gallon that’s 40 pounds a trip! I had a feeling like “Hey, maybe I can get my old self back,” all the while worrying that I’d pay for it later with aches and pains, but surprise of surprises, I didn’t. The water stayed a grayish cloudy all night, most likely from the oxygen in it, but I’m sure it’ll clear up in a day or two.
Tressa would be so proud of me. Speaking of which I still haven’t heard a word from her, though I keep leaving messages but no one answers.
Thursday the 8th
I had a nightmare last night about living in my old Pontiac under a bridge after losing everything and getting evicted out of my home of nearly 23 years. I kept trying to hide because a bunch of people would wander by and try to rob me and I’d scare them off with my pellet gun that looks real. My three Somolians showed up and knew it wasn’t real and beat the hell out of me and stole my car and killed Mischief. I woke up crying and didn’t want to go back to sleep, but I was so tired from hauling water yesterday that I fell back asleep. I woke up with a sore throat, but don’t know if it was from screaming in my sleep or not.
I’ve got to be at the clinic at 1:45 this afternoon. This shoots to hell my plans to have my printer ink cartridges refilled up at Walgreen’s. With my luck they’ve probably raised their prices for it again. After you re-use a cartridge a few times the metal foil contacts wear to the point of being unusable. It’s still so hard adjusting to not being able to walk into any store and buying new cartridges and not care about the price. I got so used to that lifestyle that I seem to have forgotten it from when I had to struggle back in Barberton before I got my Art business going full strength. It’s like that whole era is a book I read a long time ago and can’t remember many of the details.
I used the last two $5 bills I had and paid the co-pay at the clinic. I’ve lost another 10 pounds-Yaaaaaaaaaaay! Dr. S finally took the time to explain that the reason my sugars were so fucked up was that I was using regular Novolog the same way I was using the 70/30 and the regular stuff is much-much stronger. He took the time to give me the class that no doctor has explained in 5 years and I now understand how to use my insulin properly… Now all I have to do is figure out how to afford to buy it.
He gave me a month’s supply of Crestor, but they don’t have any Lasix-the drug that helps keep fluids from building up around my heart, or any insulin. On top of having to pay the electric bill now, I’ve got ten dollars a month at the clinic. Since they can only give me a month’s supply of stuff at a time. Wal-Mart says that my insulin syringes would be a lot cheaper if I had a prescription for them, so I got Dr. S to write one out for me, along with the test strips which even with my Anthem run about $70 that I don’t’ have.
I got home and the phone was ringing-another collection agency. The experiment goes on with the three tones on my machine that tell their robo caller that the line’s disconnected. So far only one of them has called back after hearing the tones… we’ll see.
Friday the 9th
GB deposited the check; it’s been a while since they’ve fucked with it, and I’m starting to worry. Isn’t that ridiculous? They’ve actually got my mind to the point that I worry as much about things going right as I do when they go wrong.
This mid-cycle check as to go to the phone, car and possibly the electric. I went ahead and programmed the car and phone into the checking account, the electric I’ll wait till I see the bill. I think it’s only going to be about $90 if I read the on-line statement right. I’ve been using nightlights to navigate in the dark and only turning things on if I absolutely have to. I’ve actually learned to stomach canned ravioli without cooking it.
Jack’s called me to say that they screwed up the trade last week and that if I wanted to I could come out and pick out some plants for the tank for free. I was really gratified that they were so nice about it. The manager used to love when I came in, because if I saw a particular kind of tropical fish that I’d like I’d buy a whole tank’s worth for about $200 instead of buying just one fish, so I guess he wants to keep my business. On the way there I was low on gas and bought another three gallons at $10.00… Now I’ve only got about $80 for groceries and supplies.
I wrote a bunch of notes to myself for my trip to Wal-Mart. I went to the pharmacy and priced syringes. She told me that a box of 100 was $12.95-wow Anthem saved me all of $2.05. She said that the prescription for the test strips wasn’t written right and that I’d have to wait until Monday for a price. I have no choice but to buy the needles, then inject the insulin without a reading and hope for the best. The test strips will just have to wait. I went over to the jewelry department for batteries for my tester, but if I can’t afford the test-strips the batteries become a moot point. I tossed them in the basket and figured I’d decide about them later. They ran about $10 for the two that the tester requires.
I bought more cheap food because I can’t afford the makings for the healthier salads. Canned ravioli, breaded chicken patties, fish sticks, all loaded with salt, starches, carbs and sugar. I’m literally killing myself by what I’m eating, but I don’t’ have a choice. I left the store with only $29 to last for two weeks-this is so fucked. I got out to the parking lot and discovered the little package of tester batteries under the bags. I’d unknowingly shoplifted them because I didn’t spot them in the bottom of the basket in the checkout line. Whether I meant to or not, it’s come down to stealing now… what will I do next? All the way home I wanted to turn around and go back in and pay for them, but I really needed them. I don’t know how to reconcile this in my head and I fear it’ll play on my thoughts for a long time.
Saturday the 10th
I spent the morning experimenting with the nozzles of my aquarium water pumps trying to aim them so that the plants don’t fold over from the current they produce. The water finally cleared up and the tank looks great… nearly empty, but great. The little plecostomus I traded for died. I bagged him up and stuck him in the freezer. They’ll let me trade him for another one. Tiger Woods was playing in the Masters today and he looked like he was getting his game back. I don’t watch golf unless he’s playing; I have a feeling a lot of people don’t.
My knee hurts like hell this morning-which means we probably have a storm coming. I’ve had the air conditioning set at about 78 and use a fan in the bedroom and the den to keep me comfortable. The motor on the fan in the den burned out this afternoon. It set off the smoke alarm, but other than that it was no big deal. I can’t afford another one, so things will be warm in here.
I’m so pissed at myself. I stuck some frozen chicken patties in the toaster oven just as my aunt called to say hello, and forgot and left the remainder in their plastic bag on top of it. The bell went off and the remainder of the bag is ruined. There’s two meals down the drain. I’m getting senile at my young age.
I spent the afternoon watching Tiger play and sorting photos. Betsy’s birthday is the 15th and I’m determined to get them to her before that. It’s just fucked up that I can’t print her a birthday card.
Sunday the 11th
Tiger didn’t win the Masters. I kind of expected that he wouldn’t after being away from the course for so long, but still I hoped. He’s pulled some squeakers out before.
That choking cloud of “alone” smothered me again today. Sometimes I think I should try to rob a convenience store or something and then intentionally caught so I can go into a coma in jail and forget the world… and then I come to my senses. The problem with jail isn’t being locked up away from everyone-it’s the inmates killing each other and the gangs terrorizing everyone. I don’t think I can think up a crime that wouldn’t hurt someone, so it’s a moot problem any way. I wouldn’t want some store clerk to go through the hell and PTSD that I’m living now.
Oh well, there’s still over dosing on insulin.
I miss the den fan because it’s so quiet in there that I can hear my ears ringing really loud, which means resorting to wearing headphones and listening to music. Columbus has a casino coming soon and I’ll have to stay away from it. I used to be unable to fly anywhere near it without hitting the casinos in Los Vegas. Back when I had money to burn, I’d give myself $500-1000 to blow, not caring whether I’d win or lose, and usually between blackjack and poker I’d leave with about $5000 or more. The difference is I was gambling for fun, I have a feeling now I’d be playing out of desperation instead and t’s what destroys people.
I had tater-tots for dinner… unfuckinbelievable.
Monday the 12th
I woke up around 6AM and felt like I was starving and dying of thirst. I must’ve eaten a whole pack of sandwich meat slices and 6 cans of Diet Dr. Pepper and still felt funny. I checked my sugar and was amazed. This waking up with super-low blood sugar is getting really worrisome. I had to rush over to see Dr. S/clinic this morning. They gave me a quick blood test, took some samples and gave me a piece of candy. I spent the whole day sleeping when I got home and then was groggy the whole rest of the day.
Tuesday the 13th
I finally fell asleep around 6 this morning and woke up and 9:30 feeling like shit. My blood sugar was at 50. I took my insulin at noon yesterday and ate around 5:30. The entire time my readings were in the 170 range. All day it stayed steady and then suddenly 17 hours after I took the insulin my blood sugar plummeted 120 points! I tried to get up and knock out some articles and digg some friend’s submissions but I couldn’t get going. I wrote an article a few years back about diabetes’s effects on people and one of the symptoms is angry outbursts. Boy did I have them today. I probably alienated everyone at the BC homesite in one evening. And people wonder why I can’t interact with friends, much less strangers. No results from the lab about my blood sample they took at the clinic yesterday.
I called my friend Teresa and left an e-mail telling her I missed her and fell asleep midway through NCIS. I woke up at 1:30AM (Wednesday) and who knows when I’ll get back to sleep. I’ve decided to occupy my mind and redesigned my websites so that there’s less clutter by making expandable buttons that when clicked open one of my website menus and take the reader there. It takes up a hell of a lot less space and looks better. I worked on it until I got drowsy and yawning through my tears and went to sleep while the birds were chirping merrily outside.
Wednesday the 14th
I woke up at 5:30AM and my sugar was 45! This time I took the insulin at 11:30 yesterday afternoon! Maybe my pancreas is coming back to life? I knocked around the house for a few hours and set my clock/radio so I’d be sure to make it to Dr. Mind today. I must’ve dozed off around 6:30-7 because Dr. Mind called and woke me up canceling our noon appointment today because she had an opportunity to attend her own doctor’s appointment; so we rescheduled for 1:30 tomorrow.
I no sooner hung up from her than the collection calls began. I figured I wouldn’t get any sleep so I stayed up. The three-tone trick on my answering machine seems to work only to a limited set of harassers… alas. I discovered the new baby plecostomus floating dead in my aquarium… after all I went through. I’m pretty sure I can trade him in on a live one. I put him in a sandwich bag and put it in the freezer. If I can ever figure out what I’ll need for ink or postage to send Betsy those photos, or food to last until Friday, I’ll take him over when I go to Wal-Mart. I’ve got around $20 to last another week.
I called Tressa at physical therapy to find out if she’d heard from Dr. P/Knee or from GB and nothing. I got dizzy standing up and fell against the wall with my sore shoulder again/ this sucks. I was supposed to call and get an eye appointment Monday but I can’t move, much less think.
Thursday the 15th
I woke up again with low sugar. I’m getting scared and depressed. Last night I went to sleep begging God to just get it over with and take me. The frustration and helplessness is really beginning to get to me. I took insulin at 11 yesterday morning. I’m down to 6 test strips left and then I’m fucked, so I only took 10 units instead of the usual 25 and it still happened again this morning.
I stood up from the bed and nearly fell on my face. I finally gave up after a few hours and called Dr. Mind’s secretary and canceled.
I keep thinking that I need to call Wal-Mart and find out how much those test strips are, but every time I think of it I forget why I went there as soon as I get to the phone. I’ve been trying to pack up my dad’s photos and send them to Betsy, but can’t get up the strength to do it, and I’m really pissed at myself because today’s her birthday and I was determined to have them to her by now. She called me today and we had a nice talk… god I miss her. I’m afraid to even walk out to the car for fear I’ll pass out or lose my balance.
I took the little fan I have in the den behind me apart trying to fix it. I think if I can afford some 3 in 1 oil or some spray silicone I might get it running again, or I hope I can because I can’t afford a new one. It helps drown out the ringing in my ears that’s driving me crazier than I already am.
I went into my Adsense account and I’m getting lots of clicks from my good friend Brenda. I’ve GOT to e-mail her and thank her. I’m afraid to take my insulin at all today. I wonder if this could be a side effect from running out of the Janumet?
It was sunny and over 80 degrees today and I couldn’t make myself leave the apartment. I fell asleep this afternoon and woke up screaming this evening. I had a bizarre nightmare where I peered out the window and Santa Clause as big as life was floating in mid-air just outside of my balcony railing. Then I laughed when I saw that they were using a “cherrypicker rig” to put a big plastic one on the roof. The guy dressed up like Santa began slipping out of his sleigh and screamed for me to help him, but I couldn’t reach far enough out to grab him and he was really terrified. Suddenly he reached out caught my hand and the rig moved outward away from the balcony leaving me hanging in mid-air. He laughed and let go of me and I grabbed a runner on his sleigh. that was as sharp as an ice-skater’s blade. I looked down and one of my Somolian attackers was at the controls and began shaking the rig back and forth. I looked up at Santa and he took off his beard and it was another of my attackers and he began beating me over the head with his gun and I fell. I woke up just before I hit the ground. I spent most of the evening thinking there was snow on the ground outside and it was probably better not to drive on it anyway and stay home.
God, I’m fucked up.
Friday the 16th
No low blood sugar this morning (what a relief) I decided to call Wal-Mart and find out how much the test strips are for the glucose meter. They said they were $15.99, which means somehow Anthem is still discounting them.. I hope. That’ll mean skimping on food until next Friday’s check with noodle mixes and breaded chicken patties and canned ravioli, but I’m in danger of unintentionally killing myself using too much or too little insulin without those strips. This is crazy. I’ve only got around $35 left in checking, which will leave me barely enough to ship those photos and antique frames to Betsy along with my leftover percocet.
It was tough focusing my eyes this morning. I’ve only got two weeks before my driver’s license expires and I’m getting royally pissed at myself for not calling for an appointment… mainly because I won’t have the money for the upfront co-pay that they ask for before they’ll even let me see the doctor. I just got a bill from Anthem; I now owe them almost $160 in monthly fees since January. If they’d just dump me, I might be able to get help with food and/or medical bills. Unfortunately I can’t dump them voluntarily. It’s like the difference of being able to get unemployment after being fired as apposed to quitting… sigh.
I’m beginning to regret not being able to go to see Dr. Mind Thursday; this depression is getting tough to deal with. I’ll sit down for what I think is five minutes and three hours later I’m still sitting there, and over the last few days I haven’t been able to keep the idea of killing myself out of my consciousness. I wake up and I tell myself I’m going to do this, this, this and this. I berate myself that there’s no excuse not to; then I reach for the phone and something stops me and says rather forcefully, “what’s the use?” I’ll see the sun out and think, now’s the perfect time to sow flower seeds out on the balcony or go outside and enjoy a nice drive somewhere with the top down, and I can’t force myself out the door.
I headed out finally this afternoon to go over to Wal-Mart and nearly got to the car when I remembered that the baby plecostomus was left in the freezer and went back up for it. When I got to Wal-Mart’s pharmacy they told me that they’d quoted me the price for the half-prescription of the test strips I’d requested, but the cashier told me they couldn’t break up the box. I had no choice but to buy the whole thing and it ran me $35. Nothing’s left for food or supplest and I’ve just emptied my checking account… FUCK.
I took the dead plecostomus over to Jack’s and they were very nice about it and gave me a new one that’s a little bigger (2 inches). I got out to the car and discovered the gas gauge on the E line. I sat in the parking lot and felt completely deflated of hope. If I ran out of gas on the way home, I’d never be able to walk it with my sore knee to a gas station, and even if I did make it, I wouldn’t have any money to buy it, and would have to resort to begging like some bum. After about 10 minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to chance it. All the way home I kept thinking that I no longer have enough gas to get to Dr. Mind next Wednesday and that’ll make it three weeks in a row.
As it turns out, I was parked on an angle and when I drove home the needle crept just barely above the line; not that that helped, because the last time I ran out of gas that’s where it died too.
I saw a bum begging for money with a cardboard sign and told myself “That’s not me,” and then it hit me-a realization I’ve been denying for years now-it is… that IS me. I was so upset I pulled over and shut off the car because I was so distracted I thought I’d wreck because I wasn’t paying attention. I’m a goddamned hypocrite. When I go to the clinic, when I went to social services, when I sit out in the waiting room to beg for drug-rep samples of prescriptions I can’t afford, I look around me at the others there and tell myself I’m not one of them… but I am… damn it, I am, and it hurts so much. I feel like a little kid crying in frustration in a corner that’s just been punished for something I didn’t do. I think I sat there for about 10 minutes in the side of the exit and then drove home. I’m a bum, a beggar, broke and down on his luck that can’t reconcile in his head that he lives in a downtown penthouse and drives a luxury car. It doesn’t matter that I can’t afford to move financially or physically, or that I owe more on the car than I’d get for it. My god this hurts to think about.
I made it home but the engine coughed once as I was backing into the carport. I’ll have to take the rest of my $2 bills, take my gas can, and walk down to the ridiculously over-priced BP station and buy a gallon or two.
Now that I’ve unintentionally and without knowing it shoplifted my sugar tester batteries, will I be emboldened to try to do it on purpose for something equally important. Should I save back enough to buy printer ink and try to print my own money? Should I go out and try to rob a convenience store hoping to get caught so I can be put in jail so I won’t have to make these decisions, maybe getting killed by a fellow inmate for not joining a gang? It scares me that I seem to have suddenly mentally walked over those railroad tracks and now I’m standing on the proverbial “wrong side of town” in my head and discovered that it wasn’t as scary being here as I thought it’d be.
After she sent me that $30 for the postage, I now can’t send Betsy my leftover painkillers now and she starts work next week. With the calcium spurs in her feet it’ll be hell on her.
I called Cheryl over at Dr. Foot’s when I got home and got her voicemail again.
My ears are ringing really loud in the silence of the den here, so I decided to try using cooking spray as a lubricant for the fan, after all it’s designed to work in the hundreds of degrees, and lo-and-behold it did! I doubt it’ll last long as it’s designed for high temperature cooking not a lubricant, but at least something went right for a change. This is what kills me; I can think of a solution for problems like that, but can’t seem to find a way out of this health or financial maze.
I can’t fall asleep now until around 5 in the morning. I think I’m afraid of going into a glucose coma, so I sit around waiting just in case.
The part of me that wants to end it all and shoot up an entire syringe full of 100 proof Novolog seems to be getting stronger and stronger. I’ve even considered writing up an on-line will. Betsy’d never be able to afford to ship my most loved possessions to Oregon and they’d probably be sold by the state or left on a curb somewhere to rot. Between the nightmares of the attack/attackers, the flashbacks and the doorbells in the middle of the night that aren’t there, my strength to fight is slowly seeping away.
Fortunately I’m still to much of a coward to do it… don’t worry.
Saturday the 17th – Tuesday the 20th
Saturday
I’ve started opening the livingroom curtains trying to let some light into my life… well actually it’s to be able to leave the aquarium lights off during the day. After checking I find I’ve got $4.34 left in my checking account. I feel like hell that I’ve got to make Betsy wait until Friday to mail off the picture frames and antibiotics I promised her three weeks ago.
I still have to play with the fan in the den. It’s like trying to start one of those old propeller planes; you have to spin the blade until it becomes loose enough for the motor to start, which usually takes about a minute and a half of playing with. It’s really strange that it runs fine once it gets started, then freezes when I shut it off. I suspect that the linkage that makes it oscillate is the culprit, but I don’t want to tear it down that far to find out and then not be able to put it back together again.
The trick with the three tones on the answering machine seems to have a limited effect, but still that’s better than nothing. I’m still wondering about the one call that keeps asking me to call a 999 number that doesn’t exist, nor does caller I.D. identify it.
My upper left arm from my shoulder to my elbow really hurt this morning; I’m not sure why, it’s probably muscular.
Thinking about my being no more than a beggar and a bum is really “bumming me out.”
Sunday the 18th
I had another rough night/morning. I couldn’t fall asleep until 5AM and then woke up at 7 to the sound of the non-existent doorbell visitor and couldn’t fall back asleep… groan. I finally dozed off around 11AM and woke up at 3 in the afternoon. I checked my blood sugar and it was 421… this is getting old really fast.
I couldn’t figure out why it was so cold in the apartment and shut the air conditioning off, but that didn’t help. Then I turned on the TV and discovered it was down to 35 last night, and it’s supposed to stay this cold for a while. Ma nature needs a new calendar, it was in the 80s last week.
I’ve had the worst headache all day and I haven’t been able to focus my eyes. I spent the afternoon smelling buttered popcorn all day-god I hope it’s a neighbor instead of a stroke… maybe I’m pregnant?
I am bound and determined-I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow- I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow- I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow- I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow- I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow… I hope.
Monday the 19th
The first thing this morning I called OSU eye clinic and got an appointment for this Thursday. They want me to bring my Medicaid card, which I no longer have. I hope Medicare covers this. Would they really turn me away if I don’t have the co-pay they mentioned on the phone? Now all I have to do is find a way to print out my medications list and medical history for them.
I still have yesterday’s headache; I wonder if it’s from my eye problem. I got really tired and wound up falling asleep around 8PM last night, up at 1AM, back to sleep at 4AM… groan.
4 collection agency calls today, all live instead of the robo-caller.
Tuesday the 20th
I woke up screaming this morning. I relived the attack in a dream last night with one difference; he was using a hand hatchet instead of the gun to beat me. I just keep bleeding all over the place and couldn’t stop screaming no matter how many pieces they chopped me into; which made them hack at me even more.
I put some laundry together and took it downstairs. One guaranteed way to meet all of your neighbors is to not shave for a few days, dress up in your most embarrassing clothes, and take a pile of smelly clothes down to the washers-you’ll meet every neighbor you have.
I’ve got a $2 MegaMillions ticket for a few weeks ago and I got into my stash and picked out $5 worth of my bicentennial 50-cent pieces to put into the gas tank Wednesday morning… let’s just hope the car makes it to the gas station two blocks away.
After I discovered the freezer empty, I did an inventory. I’ve got noodle and sauce mix and cans of tuna to last until Friday.
I’m going to have to get in touch with Lawyer K soon about my medications when I go into the hospital in September for my knee operation. Now that GB is going through my hospital bills and refusing to pay for any medications that don’t have to do with the knee surgery, I’ve got to find a way to get Grant Hospital to allow me to bring my own stuff, because I can’t afford to pay for theirs.
I’m frankly shocked that I don’t have another ulcer. If anything goes wrong; even the tiniest thing, I’ll be in trouble, like I was when I had the flat tire. Hopefully it’ll be warm enough outside to put the top down to see Dr. Mind tomorrow. It’s been three weeks-I try not to go that long without seeing her. I turn another year older in a little more than a week and a half… alone. God the parties my friends used to throw me… sigh
I lost my balance again this morning and banged my knee on the wall… par for the course. Tomorrow morning should be interesting, I’ll have to set the clock/radio to make sure I don’t miss Dr. Mind and I’ll have to leave myself time to get to the gas station first.
Wednesday the 21st thru Friday the 23rd
Wednesday:
I ran out of gas trying to get to my appointment with Dr. Mind… fortunately it was only 20 feet or so from the gas pump. It was an adventure pushing the car to the pump then as it started rolling downhill towards Rich St. trying to scramble in to hit the brakes before it caused an accident… then pushing it backwards uphill to the pump again. The BP is gouging customers because it’s the only gas station downtown and the price was $3.20 a gallon. Then the middle-eastern clerk had never seen fifty cent pieces before which delayed me even further.
My session with Dr. Mind went well. I got out all of my frustrations and concerns about my thoughts of suicide.
I determined that I would do something constructive when I got home, so I set down an outline for not one-but two articles to write. One concerning Nepal’s newly formed government sending out official invitations for gays to marry on the slopes of Mt. Everest, and another on the new $100 bill.
Thursday the 22nd
I got up early and knocked out the article on gay weddings on Mt. Everest, and then to my shock took all of only 2 hours to knock out the 2nd article on the new hundred-dollar bill. After only being published once every other month or so, I actually published two in one day!!! Then I took a shower and checked on Google Earth for the location of the new OSU eye clinic and left.
Unfortunately it wasn’t where Google said it was, but I found it eventually and still got there on time. Thankfully they didn’t demand a co-pay. The wait was nearly two hours just to get in to see the pre-exam nurse, then another half an hour to see the eye doctor’s assistant who gave me the eye exam, then another 45 minutes to see the doctor to give me the results.
The reason I’m having so much trouble in my eyes lately is that I’ve developed cataracts in both eyes. He said he saw the remnants of the old hemorrhage, but that the unfocused left eye is a cataract and that one is growing in the right eye as well; which is why my vision is worse. He asked me if I thought the colors I see have been getting paler and I said yes but I thought it was psychological; he said no it’s the cataract yellowing the inside of my eye. I’ve had several people comment on how “colorful” my blog banners have been, but until now I didn’t know it was because I was over over-compensating for it. He warned that I need surgery and soon before they grow larger, and wants to see me back in two weeks… not in time for my eye-test for my license.
He said lots fo people drive with only one eye and that I should be able to see enough out of my right one to pass the test. I left the eye clinic just in time for rush hour traffic.
What next?
As it turned out, rush hour was a blessing with slower moving cars. With the drops they put in my eyes during the exam, I wasn’t able to completely focus my eyes and the bright light they use to look inside my pupils to dilate them also blinded me. I had to sit in my car for a while to be able to barely drive home without killing myself or anyone else. I couldn’t focus or read my computer screen without squinting and using the glasses at the end of my nose. Normally I don’t need glasses to read the screen. It made me feel old.
I had time to think and came to realize that the reason I have so much trouble with strangers is that I didn’t used to be afraid of them, in fact I welcomed them. When those three came up to me, I just assumed they were three of hundreds that came before them who were hopelessly lost in a maze of duplicate apartment building numbers and hoped I would help… so I smiled a welcome at them with a cheerful, “Hello!” and only then saw his gun. Since then I’ve been shy to downright worried when one even comes close to approaching me.
Friday the 23rd
My eyesight thankfully cleared up enough in my right eye that I could read the screen this morning.
GB didn’t deposit my check today… FUCK! Just when I was feeling safe too. I knew I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I know that e-mailing and calling will do nothing, so I’ll have to wait until Monday. I decided to occupy my pissed-off mind today by combining two articles I’d written about American right-wing fundamentalism and then updated the result to talk about the Tea Party movement. I submitted it this afternoon, but so far it hasn’t been published. It’s a bitch waiting for some editor to read through it, but I had to agree to let BlogCritics publish my material first before it can be published somewhere else.
They have a much better readership than my blogs do, so for now I’ll have to live with someone who doesn’t agree with me editing my work. The good news is that after they publish it, I can publish my own version if I don’t agree with what they did to it. Often it’s better as they’re college educated professional editors and I’m just a blogger… we’ll see.
It hurts like hell between my left shoulder and elbow and I can’t figure out why, especially when I try to reach around myself and scratch my back. Maybe it’s from pushing the car. I can’t tell if it’s muscular or bone. GOD I MISS THE GYM over at physical therapy. Risking going to the one downstairs without a spotter is still out of the question. That’s another call I’ll have to make on Monday.
At least my den fan is still working.
At least after seeing Dr. Mind last Wednesday, I don’t feel like killing myself as much this week. I’ve only had one flashback and no nightmares.
Monday the 26th
The revamped and updated editorial on the Republican Tea Party was published Friday evening and was a huge success with commenter from all over the world on the Blogcritics’ site agreeing and debating.
Despite that my right hand hurts like hell and I fear I may have fractured or broken something, and typing this is definitely not fun. The GB deposit finally showed up on my checking account this morning. I didn’t eat yesterday and was starving (at one point I was tempted to try Mischief’s dry cat food) but I settled for reconstituted dried chopped onions with a little salad dressing, which is all I have left in the cupboard. Anyway, I headed out to Wal-Mart at first light and picked up some groceries. After the rent, electric and car insurance I’ve got $71 to last two weeks, so I chose food over drugs and bought about $45/8 day’s worth of groceries with the gas guage reading empty again. I got really pissed as I drove past gas stations selling it at $2.85 @ gallon because I paid $3.15 last Wednesday. After groceries, I’ve got just under $25 left; $15 of which has to go to mailing Betsy the pictures and my leftover antibiotics and pain pills. Ten bucks-ten bucks to buy 7 more days of groceries… God help me is something even trivial comes up.
I got home, put all my supplies away and programmed the bill payments into my account… and that’s when I slammed my fist onto my desk.
I forgot I have to renew my driver’s license by Friday, and didn’t save back any money for it.
My hand is kind of swollen and it hurts like hell when I flex my fingers.
What next, what fucking next? And it’s only noon. The rest of the day should be an adventure.
For about 9 months now I’ve been plagued with a problem in my eyes that now makes sense; if it’s a bright sunny day, I lose any perception of the color black and it’d get difficult to tell what color a traffic light was against a bright sky. With cataracts inside both eyes, when the sunlight hits them they catch that light. The effect is like trying to see around a bright flashlight in a completely dark cave.
I had another of my “comas” where I sat down at noon and three hours later I thought it was 10 minutes later. Dr. Mind calling to say she had a meeting on Wednesday and rescheduling for 1PM instead of our usual noon shook me out of it. I lost three hours that I’d meant to use to pack up the pictures.
Last weekend’s headache went away finally.
The knot on my left elbow began swelling again this evening and I squeezed it and a little puss came out. The skin where it got swollen before has been contracting, and after it goes down it cracks and gets hard and flakey. An infection probably got in, but nothing to be too worried about. After a few more squeezes the swelling went way down. I think if I keep putting rubbing alcohol on it, it’ll be okay.
While going through my Eisenhower dollars I remembered a Big Boy’s waitress I knew in Chicago near Midway airport that’d I’d see every time I was in town. One day I complimented her on a beautiful silver medallion she wore around her neck. She told me she’d taken a big Eisenhower dollar I’d given her, had it polished to almost chrome shininess and had it mounted as a necklace. She told me she tells everyone who asks about it that it was the nicest tip she ever got. It made me think of all the people I’ve touched in one way or another and it made me smile. I had a guy tell me once that he recognized me from when I used to deliver pizzas at Ohio State. He said I was his earliest childhood memory because I gave him a little toy Domino’s Pizza “Noid” around Christmas.
One of mine (thought not the first) was living near a railroad crossing and running out when a train approached and the men in the caboose would throw candy to all of us kids. I wonder what would happen if one of those men recognized me…
Tuesday the 27th
The swelling at my elbow has gone down, so it looks like draining it did the trick.
I’m trying to get myself into some sort of mental shape to try to make myself go downstairs to the gym everyday and at least use the stationary bike and do some light lifting. I’ve tried before only to come back because of the number of strangers down there. it’s be great if I could because then I could sauna and shower afterwards and not have to use my own hot water.
I got a ton of collection agency calls today so I guess the three-tone trick didn’t work. My knee really bothered me when I woke up, which served to remind me to call Tressa at physical therapy. She said she hadn’t heard anything, so I called Dr. Knee’s office but only got Cheryl’s voice mail. She never called me back.
When I got to get my license renewed tomorrow I’ve decided to do it after seeing Dr. Mind. That’ll give me all afternoon to get my eyes focused. Since I’m there I’m going to pick up my Cymbalta, which thankfully is still free.
I experimented with my e-mail and tried to text my good friend Brenda and it worked. I just have to be careful who I text now because they get charged for them. She’d e-mailed me all pissed because she thought it wasn’t fair that I was all bothered about getting the photos to Betsy, and I told her she must’ve missed my earlier entry about Betsy sending me $30 and feeling like shit about spending it on food instead of using it for what it was supposed to be for. Anyway we reconnected, which was nice.
This whole financial thing should’ve happened last year, but I was given a reprieve because the electric meter went on strike and the city didn’t fix it for a year, so I had that extra $90-120 a month to buy groceries and prescriptions. Now that they’ve fixed it, I screwed.
The sudden burst of writing energy left me and I’m really disappointed. I thought I could keep the momentum going and polish off some of the reviews I owed Blogcritics, but it’s left me again.
I hope it’s sunny tomorrow.
Wednesday the 28th thru Friday the 30th
In no particular order…
My good friend Brenda sent me a birthday card with $25 in it. I wish I could spend it on something other than cat and fish food, and enough groceries to last until Friday of next week. God love her. I sent her an e-mail and said I was making a little statue of her to put on my dash board.
A huge internal controversy has sprung up over Blogcritics insisting that we not self-publish our own material until 24 hours after they do because Google apparently is trying to give BC a hard time. Many writers (myself included) disagree, but what can you say when my own stuff has ten times the number of readers there as on my own sites here? BC is also insisting that we add a line to our articles that we publish afterward that it was originally published at BC first and link to it. With everyone complaining of the hassle of trying to add a link code to each of their articles, I posted a quick and painless way that our Blogspot HTML could do it automatically each time we published an article and now I’m a hero because it never occurred to anyone to do it that way, so I’m getting glowing e-mails thanking me and calling me a genius.
I was in a really deep funk for a day or so because I failed my eye test for my driver’s license. I’m really depressed because it seems things only get worse instead of anything getting better in my life. My upcoming eye exam might change things, but I’ll have to pay an additional $26 to get the status on my license changed which I can’t afford, so I’ll begin driving illegally now. If I’m caught I automatically get transported to the police station, my car expensively impounded and I’ll have to find a ride home.
I finally posted Betsy’s package with the family pictures and the antique frames, and some of my leftover painkillers and antibiotics. I was talking to her on the phone trying to find which address she wanted me to send them to, and discovered even more painkillers I didn’t realize I had. I had to open the package and rearrange things and didn’t realize until I resealed it that I’d forgotten to put the CD-rom discs of the photos off of Dad’s computer back in. I’ll just have to e-mail them to her.
I got a letter today from my stepsister Charlene. In it I found what appears to be a letter that my father posted years ago that he sent to her by mistake. In it he expresses his sorrow that we lost touch and that he still wanted us to be close friends despite our differences. Since I never got this letter until five years after he died, I never knew. I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for this. Fortunately around 1999 I reestablished contact with him when I found out he didn’t’ remember a lot of our family life in his old age and became his friend instead of his son on my own.
I had a strange dream last night about hitting some standing water during a flood and my car disintegrated. I actually got out and lifted it up above my head and carried it to the other side, all the time scared that my heart would give out, in order to keep the engine dry so it’d start on the opposite hill. Just by coincidence an old backyard mechanic offered to help me put it back together so I waded back into the flood and picked up floating plastic pieces of the car as if it’d been made out of a model kit I used to build as a kid. The man asked me to hand him a giant tube of model glue when a collection agency call woke me up before I could find out what happened next.
I got a total of 9 collection agency calls. One lady kept calling over and over because she liked my answering machine message and kept giggling. She’s a problem because if the machine is turned off, it’ll pick up after 10 rings but not play the message in order for me to turn it on remotely. She lets it ring that long thinking it’ll eventually answer, where the callbots hang up after five… sigh
I got some interesting news. BC has decided to share their ad revenue on our articles with us through Adsense. Joy. What that means is that I can now track how many of my readers log on at their website. Since they’re using the ugly text ads instead of pictures, I doubt that any of us will make anything, because it’s still only pennies a click like on my own sites. Since BC is simply tacking on another ad, they’re not really “revenue sharing” since the meager pay out comes from Adsense instead of them… Beggars can’t be choosers. Maybe I’ll get a check finally in 2011 instead of 2012… whoopie
I’m down to four diabetic Janumet tablets left and then I’m out. Dr. Mind told me Wednesday that the charity pharmacy at the church across the way might let me avail myself of them. I called them once a few weeks ago and got nowhere, but I might give it another try.
Aunt Margaret called with some good news, her kidney function is improving and she’s losing weight. She’s in her seventies and on dialysis and I’ve been worried about her. Betsy called and I’m pissed at myself for letting it slip that I’d found out in my father’s diary that he was blackmailing my Uncle Wayne on my mom’s side over the years for money to gamble and lose in the stock market. He’d threatened to report him as gay to the military when he was in Vietnam, which would’ve risked his 30-year pension with a dishonorable discharge. I’d learned so many heartless things about him and my family that my parents shielded from us that I destroyed the hard drive it was on to keep them from reading it in case something happened to me.
Tomorrow’s going to be rough. I’m going to have to write the rent check, but it’ll bounce if I don’t take some collectible $2 bills and deposit them in my checking. Soon I’ll have to dip into my Eisenhower silver dollars again and the Kennedy halves. God I hate this. I’m reluctantly thinking of swallowing my pride and asking Dave in Australia for the help he offered, but like I said before, I feel like a bum with a cardboard sign at the end of a freeway exit begging for coins.
I don’t know what else to do.
I’ve started thinking about giving all of my possessions away to friends, finding a home for the cat and then just giving up… I know I won’t, but I can’t escape the thoughts and it bothers me. I just hope I can hold on until Friday next week when the next GB check comes and hope that Mischief’s cat food holds out that long.
I’m now using my syringes five times before tossing them-mainly because the needles get so dull I have to push to get them to puncture the skin. In order to get more I’d need a prescription, and to get that I’d have to pay the clinic $10 that I don’t have to see the doctor… then I wouldn’t have enough to buy the damned things…
Fuck
Friday the 2nd
God how I hated to do what I just did this morning, I was on the verge of tears into the afternoon. For about the last twenty years, I got accustomed to doing things like over-the-top tipping. An example was that once I took my friend Brenda in Pittsburgh out to lunch at a Big Boy’s restaurant and told our server that if he had any hope for a tip, he must never let my glass of lemonade go dry… The guy nearly drowned me in it. When I got up to pay I didn’t leave a tip, but at the cash register I asked to see the manager, complimented our waiter, paid the tab, which I think came to only about $16 for the two of us and then handed the bewildered guy a $20 tip. When I was out on business, I’d stop at a bank occasionally and ask if they had any $2 bills or giant Eisenhower silver dollars, and then I’d use them as tips for pizza guys and servers etc. When I’d get home from the road I’d dump it all in a glass jar, forget about them, and then have to buy more when I went out again. I once left a girl a penny tip with a note warning her not to spend it. It was a steel penny from the 40s during World War II when copper was needed and the U.S. minted them out of steel instead.
I pulled that glass jar down today; only this time I emptied it. Along with a $5 gambling chip from the MGM Grand, I have 61 Eisenhowers left, 82 bicentennial Kennedy halves, 40 bicentennial quarters, 28 state quarters and 51 $2 bills. I went through the bills and kept only the near perfect ones. Dumped the quarters in the regular laundry change, took my uncirculated Susan B. Anthony dollars and put everything else back in the jar. My Uncle Wayne helped me start collecting the Eisenhowers and they’ll be the last to go.
I’ve been calling dealers and collectors who will only give me face value for my collectible currency. In this economy that’s the only way they can make money reselling them, and my putting them on e-bay is worse because I’d have to pay percentage fees, postage to mail them to buyers, Pay-Pal would want their cut and in the end I’d make nothing… soooooooo… I reluctantly went into my library and got my old coin books too and then broke all of the pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters out of their little holes and rolled them… even the “S” mint coins and now I’ve got to find a way to deposit it all in the bank without breaking down and crying in line. My God this hurts. They’re one of the last vestiges of my former life and the touch of every coin had a good memory that I didn’t want to let go. I’m tearing up now just thinking about it.
It’s true what they say about the friends that stick by you when things go sour. People like Dr. Mind, Teresa, Brenda, Brock, my sister Betsy and Aunt Margaret. It hurts just how many people I thought I was really close to that haven’t called for years now. It’s like people that you were really close to at work that you said you’d keep in touch with and then never heard from again. I ache for the days when I sometimes had to take the phone off the hook because people were calling me from all over the country just to say “hi!” or on my “brick” cell phone where every minute you spent was a fortuned. Now the only calls I get are collection agents. They came up with a new tactic today that’s really low, they use cell phones that can be programmed to display non-existant phone numbers on your caller I.D. I got two of them today while I was out.
The bank went smoothly. I’ve now got enough to cover the rent check, buy cat food and enough groceries to last until next Friday… I hope. This time I remembered to take the calculator with me to Wal-Mart. More paper plates and plastic silver wear… groan. IT WAS SUCH A BEAUUUUUTIFUL day today. Nothing but sunny skies and temperatures in the 80s-perfect for “cruising around with the top down”. If I weren’t so low on gas I’d have driven all day.
When I’d gotten home, the phone was ringing and Betsy was calling to warn me that my mom was in Ohio… just what I don’t need. Her birthday is tomorrow. Any other time I’d welcome a visit from her, but in my state of mind I’d be afraid of my reaction to one of her motherly sermons. I plan to call her tomorrow and e-mail her a picture of her father that I enhanced from a photo so dark you couldn’t see anything. As I worked on it, I was surprised to find him crouching down and holding what was apparently his favorite hunting dog. I hope she likes it. Mom used to pull these surprise attacks on me where she’d drive all the way from Pittsburgh to Columbus without telling me and then calling me for directions from some payphone a few miles out of town, usually just as I was leaving for an art job or to go to the airport on a business trip. I miss how we used to get along together before she found Jesus and moved in with my sister Dee; and after I read my father’s diary.
I got on line to double check, because I can’t remember getting an e-mail from the state of Ohio saying my plates were about to expire and it was time to renew before my birthday on May 2nd, and discovered that in a rare moment of having some extra money last year I’d renewed them for two years so they don’t expire until 2011!!!!!!!! Which may or may not be a moot point if I can’t get my eyes fixed before I have to renew my license.
BC’s tracker software works. I’m really excited to see where some of the article’s I’ve written on Science and Gay Pride are still getting hundreds of visitors a day… as predicted though, no one’s clicking on the ads on those pages over there either.
It’s now 4:05AM Saturday morning and I just might be able to get some sleep. I just put up a post-it note in the middle of my monitor to remember to write a check for the rent and to call mom tomorrow (today) when I wake up…
Over the weekend the 3rd & 4th
Saturday
I called my mom Saturday on her birthday (she’s 74). The friendly call went for about three minutes until I asked if she’d heard from my Aunt Margaret (her sister) lately. I meant to tell her the good news that her kidney function was improving, but I never got a chance when Mom started going off on me about her (they’re apparently still not speaking) so I decided to get off the phone before it got worse. I was glad that mom is feeling feisty anyway and she sounds like Dee’s taking good care of her.
After reading a few on-line articles, I’ve decided to experiment with adding a three-tone code to the beginning of my answering machine. It seems that automated callers listen for the tones that the phone company uses to signal a disconnected line and then stop calling. I can only hope this works, because I could use some peace.
It started getting really warm over the weekend, which meant switching on the air conditioning. I shudder to think what the next electric bill will be like. I’m still down about having to cash in all of those Susan B. Anthony’s and the $2 bills. I covered the rent check, but only have enough left to buy Mischief some more cat food-She’s got about a day’s worth left. Thank god for Dr. Mind and her coupons.
I woke up this morning to the sound of a “boom car” out in the parking lot pumping out bass at a level normally reserved for movie theater coming attractions. After about an hour, I realized it was coming from within the building not outside and I went down one floor in the elevator to discover it was coming from my neighbor directly beneath me. I knocked and formed a suicide pact with him that if he comes to me with a noise complaint first instead of going to the apt. bldg. Manager, I’ll do the same for him. He off-handedly mentioned that he’s still waiting for me to move out of my penthouse so he can move in and I told him I’ve lived here 22-years and there’s no way I’m leaving. After I left him I wondered if Rich had started the waiting list on my apartment (that’s how I got in) after sitting downstairs for 9 years on that same list. I have the only one bedroom penthouse in both buildings in the complex. All the others are 2-bedrooms on two floors, so I have the only one-bedroom apartment with wall-to-wall glass and a private balcony. I called Rich and he said there’s no waiting list on any apartments… damn-now I’ll have to find something else to be paranoid about instead.
Betsy called and needs more of my unused pain meds for the calcium spur in her foot. I’m only too glad to do it for her. God I envy how happy she is with Norm.
Sunday
Spent the morning going over Dad’s old photos again and decided to take a break and watch some TV. I looked in the aquarium and the giant plecostomus was out from under his rocks and I was determined that today was the day I’d catch the fucker come hell or high water. I got a big plastic garbage bag and disassembled the three-foot tall rock face I had in the aquarium piece by piece. I had a great “upside down” waterfall that I hated to disassemble, which was achieved by running air lines under it which bubbled up the rocks, but I was determined to snag him. He’s so big that when he moves out from under the rocks he tears up the plants. I’ve got a pet shop up by Wal-Mart that trades my big ones (the bigger the tank-the bigger the fish grow) for little ones. The aquarium is self-sufficient because I get a little three-inch plecostomus, let it grow to 12-inches and then trade it in on another three-incher plus more fish, plants and aquarium supplies with no money changing hands. They’re only open until 5PM on Sundays so I was going to have to hurry.
It was another BEAAAAAUUUUUTTTTTIFUL sunny day-just perfect for 20-minute driving up north.
Anyway, the little brat is fast and in no time plants were floating all over the place. Then it occurred to me to use one of the 14 x 20 glass top cover plates to set vertically in the water to block his escape and within ten minutes I had him caught! I put him up in a gallon freezer bag, got cleaned up and drove out to Jack’s Aquariums prepared to brag of my accomplishment after trying for 3 months to catch the little fucker…
Jack’s was closed Easter Sunday. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
I came all the way back home with him and didn’t remember I needed cat food until I pulled in the drive way. Oh well, tomorrow’s another day. I punched a bunch of holes in the bag for water circulation and hung it in the tank.
I spent the evening pondering my artwork. I was the kind of artist that would get excited about my next art job ¾ of the way through the one I was working on currently. Then I’d want to hurry and finish it so I could get to the next one… and so on… and so on. It occurred to me that that’s the way I used to live-always looking to the future. Now it’s depressing to think that I don’t seem to have a future… well, I do, but not one worth looking forward to. All I see is hunger, loneliness, ill health and inability to pay the bills. I gave up some of what was left of my financial stability when that collectible currency went out the door, and the hurtful part of it was that those coins and bills were collected for fun, not what they’d be worth in the future. They were something I liked to do-not an investment. It’s like all of the beautiful chess sets I used to own; at one point I began running out of places to display them all and began suspending the boards with pieces on them from the ceiling on threads as if they were suspended in mid air.
I had to run the air conditioning again today. I’ve noticed that now that it’s unusually warm this early in the year and there’s flooding everywhere that the Republicans and religious fundamentalists have suddenly shut up about global warming… maybe I’ll write an article.
Tuesday the 6th
I finally made it up to Jack’s yesterday and traded the plecostomus in on a 2 incher some tangerine swordtails and Dalmatian mollies. They look great in my tank. I’m only disappointed that they didn’t have any tall plants to trade for. I nearly ran out of gas again and the car started hesitating. I limped it to a gas station and was appalled to discover gas is back up to $3 fucking gallons again. I bought less than a quarter tank on $15. Monday was spent frantically trying to finish cataloging dad’s photos and harvesting more from the DVDs of his hard drive. The mailing box is “priority mail” so it’ll only take 2-3 days to get it to Betsy with my left over antibiotics included in it.
I called Tressa again and still no authorization for the physical therapy. She says she logged onto the BWC website and one wasn’t even submitted. I called Cheryl over at Dr. Knee’s and got her voicemail… again.
This diabetes thing is getting rough. I’ve got about six test strips left and I’m judging how much insulin to take by how sweet my lips taste-which probably isn’t a good idea. I stopped off at Wal-Mart and bought Mischief some cat food just as she ran out. While there I picked up five Snickers bars incase I overdose the insulin. This financial thing is getting old really fast.
I woke up screaming Tuesday morning, but I don’t know why. I just had an overwhelming feeling of residual horror. I’ve had daytime flashbacks of the door being broken down complete with sound effects and I’ve started having painful full-body shudders again. The clinic called yesterday to remind me of my appointment tomorrow afternoon. I was going to use my last $20 to have my ink cartridges refilled so I can start sending letters to all of the collection agencies, but I guess that’s out, as I’ll have to spend it on the clinic fee on Thursday.
I’m hurting really bad. I used to have one hell of a support system… no, I’ll rephrase that-I used to be one hell of a support system. I could reach out when I needed emotional support and there were always people there to take my hand almost before I could extend it, and I did the same for them. Now it’s like there’s no one, and the few that are left that really care are hundreds of miles away and/or have families to care for that care for them. I used to be able to reach out and there’d be a warm caring body next to me or in my bed to comfort me when I was low… now when I reach out I only get empty air.
The overwhelming feeling of loneliness can swamp my thoughts for hours at a time these days and it hurts. I’m reminded of it now that the weather’s sunny, because I go out with the top down and while I’m driving I’m my old self for a little while… then I come home
Wednesday the 7th
Dr. Mind talked to me today about joining the Metropolitan Community Church as a way of trying to break out of my shell, but I still have such a problem with dealing in person with strangers that I doubted it’d take place. Besides even though it’s a famous gay church, I’m still having issues with Christianity right now. I had a rather spirited argument with my printer this morning that made me late to see her. I finally got it to squeeze out the last drop of ink to print this cycle’s diary entries to read to her and ran out of paper to print it on… groan.
When I got home for some reason I felt energetic, and did something I haven’t had the stamina or strength to do in quite some time… I drained 40 gallons (half) off of the aquarium and then put 40 more of fresh water in it. It felt good to suddenly realize that I could haul 5-gallon buckets between the living room and the bathroom. At 8 pounds per gallon that’s 40 pounds a trip! I had a feeling like “Hey, maybe I can get my old self back,” all the while worrying that I’d pay for it later with aches and pains, but surprise of surprises, I didn’t. The water stayed a grayish cloudy all night, most likely from the oxygen in it, but I’m sure it’ll clear up in a day or two.
Tressa would be so proud of me. Speaking of which I still haven’t heard a word from her, though I keep leaving messages but no one answers.
Thursday the 8th
I had a nightmare last night about living in my old Pontiac under a bridge after losing everything and getting evicted out of my home of nearly 23 years. I kept trying to hide because a bunch of people would wander by and try to rob me and I’d scare them off with my pellet gun that looks real. My three Somolians showed up and knew it wasn’t real and beat the hell out of me and stole my car and killed Mischief. I woke up crying and didn’t want to go back to sleep, but I was so tired from hauling water yesterday that I fell back asleep. I woke up with a sore throat, but don’t know if it was from screaming in my sleep or not.
I’ve got to be at the clinic at 1:45 this afternoon. This shoots to hell my plans to have my printer ink cartridges refilled up at Walgreen’s. With my luck they’ve probably raised their prices for it again. After you re-use a cartridge a few times the metal foil contacts wear to the point of being unusable. It’s still so hard adjusting to not being able to walk into any store and buying new cartridges and not care about the price. I got so used to that lifestyle that I seem to have forgotten it from when I had to struggle back in Barberton before I got my Art business going full strength. It’s like that whole era is a book I read a long time ago and can’t remember many of the details.
I used the last two $5 bills I had and paid the co-pay at the clinic. I’ve lost another 10 pounds-Yaaaaaaaaaaay! Dr. S finally took the time to explain that the reason my sugars were so fucked up was that I was using regular Novolog the same way I was using the 70/30 and the regular stuff is much-much stronger. He took the time to give me the class that no doctor has explained in 5 years and I now understand how to use my insulin properly… Now all I have to do is figure out how to afford to buy it.
He gave me a month’s supply of Crestor, but they don’t have any Lasix-the drug that helps keep fluids from building up around my heart, or any insulin. On top of having to pay the electric bill now, I’ve got ten dollars a month at the clinic. Since they can only give me a month’s supply of stuff at a time. Wal-Mart says that my insulin syringes would be a lot cheaper if I had a prescription for them, so I got Dr. S to write one out for me, along with the test strips which even with my Anthem run about $70 that I don’t’ have.
I got home and the phone was ringing-another collection agency. The experiment goes on with the three tones on my machine that tell their robo caller that the line’s disconnected. So far only one of them has called back after hearing the tones… we’ll see.
Friday the 9th
GB deposited the check; it’s been a while since they’ve fucked with it, and I’m starting to worry. Isn’t that ridiculous? They’ve actually got my mind to the point that I worry as much about things going right as I do when they go wrong.
This mid-cycle check as to go to the phone, car and possibly the electric. I went ahead and programmed the car and phone into the checking account, the electric I’ll wait till I see the bill. I think it’s only going to be about $90 if I read the on-line statement right. I’ve been using nightlights to navigate in the dark and only turning things on if I absolutely have to. I’ve actually learned to stomach canned ravioli without cooking it.
Jack’s called me to say that they screwed up the trade last week and that if I wanted to I could come out and pick out some plants for the tank for free. I was really gratified that they were so nice about it. The manager used to love when I came in, because if I saw a particular kind of tropical fish that I’d like I’d buy a whole tank’s worth for about $200 instead of buying just one fish, so I guess he wants to keep my business. On the way there I was low on gas and bought another three gallons at $10.00… Now I’ve only got about $80 for groceries and supplies.
I wrote a bunch of notes to myself for my trip to Wal-Mart. I went to the pharmacy and priced syringes. She told me that a box of 100 was $12.95-wow Anthem saved me all of $2.05. She said that the prescription for the test strips wasn’t written right and that I’d have to wait until Monday for a price. I have no choice but to buy the needles, then inject the insulin without a reading and hope for the best. The test strips will just have to wait. I went over to the jewelry department for batteries for my tester, but if I can’t afford the test-strips the batteries become a moot point. I tossed them in the basket and figured I’d decide about them later. They ran about $10 for the two that the tester requires.
I bought more cheap food because I can’t afford the makings for the healthier salads. Canned ravioli, breaded chicken patties, fish sticks, all loaded with salt, starches, carbs and sugar. I’m literally killing myself by what I’m eating, but I don’t’ have a choice. I left the store with only $29 to last for two weeks-this is so fucked. I got out to the parking lot and discovered the little package of tester batteries under the bags. I’d unknowingly shoplifted them because I didn’t spot them in the bottom of the basket in the checkout line. Whether I meant to or not, it’s come down to stealing now… what will I do next? All the way home I wanted to turn around and go back in and pay for them, but I really needed them. I don’t know how to reconcile this in my head and I fear it’ll play on my thoughts for a long time.
Saturday the 10th
I spent the morning experimenting with the nozzles of my aquarium water pumps trying to aim them so that the plants don’t fold over from the current they produce. The water finally cleared up and the tank looks great… nearly empty, but great. The little plecostomus I traded for died. I bagged him up and stuck him in the freezer. They’ll let me trade him for another one. Tiger Woods was playing in the Masters today and he looked like he was getting his game back. I don’t watch golf unless he’s playing; I have a feeling a lot of people don’t.
My knee hurts like hell this morning-which means we probably have a storm coming. I’ve had the air conditioning set at about 78 and use a fan in the bedroom and the den to keep me comfortable. The motor on the fan in the den burned out this afternoon. It set off the smoke alarm, but other than that it was no big deal. I can’t afford another one, so things will be warm in here.
I’m so pissed at myself. I stuck some frozen chicken patties in the toaster oven just as my aunt called to say hello, and forgot and left the remainder in their plastic bag on top of it. The bell went off and the remainder of the bag is ruined. There’s two meals down the drain. I’m getting senile at my young age.
I spent the afternoon watching Tiger play and sorting photos. Betsy’s birthday is the 15th and I’m determined to get them to her before that. It’s just fucked up that I can’t print her a birthday card.
Sunday the 11th
Tiger didn’t win the Masters. I kind of expected that he wouldn’t after being away from the course for so long, but still I hoped. He’s pulled some squeakers out before.
That choking cloud of “alone” smothered me again today. Sometimes I think I should try to rob a convenience store or something and then intentionally caught so I can go into a coma in jail and forget the world… and then I come to my senses. The problem with jail isn’t being locked up away from everyone-it’s the inmates killing each other and the gangs terrorizing everyone. I don’t think I can think up a crime that wouldn’t hurt someone, so it’s a moot problem any way. I wouldn’t want some store clerk to go through the hell and PTSD that I’m living now.
Oh well, there’s still over dosing on insulin.
I miss the den fan because it’s so quiet in there that I can hear my ears ringing really loud, which means resorting to wearing headphones and listening to music. Columbus has a casino coming soon and I’ll have to stay away from it. I used to be unable to fly anywhere near it without hitting the casinos in Los Vegas. Back when I had money to burn, I’d give myself $500-1000 to blow, not caring whether I’d win or lose, and usually between blackjack and poker I’d leave with about $5000 or more. The difference is I was gambling for fun, I have a feeling now I’d be playing out of desperation instead and t’s what destroys people.
I had tater-tots for dinner… unfuckinbelievable.
Monday the 12th
I woke up around 6AM and felt like I was starving and dying of thirst. I must’ve eaten a whole pack of sandwich meat slices and 6 cans of Diet Dr. Pepper and still felt funny. I checked my sugar and was amazed. This waking up with super-low blood sugar is getting really worrisome. I had to rush over to see Dr. S/clinic this morning. They gave me a quick blood test, took some samples and gave me a piece of candy. I spent the whole day sleeping when I got home and then was groggy the whole rest of the day.
Tuesday the 13th
I finally fell asleep around 6 this morning and woke up and 9:30 feeling like shit. My blood sugar was at 50. I took my insulin at noon yesterday and ate around 5:30. The entire time my readings were in the 170 range. All day it stayed steady and then suddenly 17 hours after I took the insulin my blood sugar plummeted 120 points! I tried to get up and knock out some articles and digg some friend’s submissions but I couldn’t get going. I wrote an article a few years back about diabetes’s effects on people and one of the symptoms is angry outbursts. Boy did I have them today. I probably alienated everyone at the BC homesite in one evening. And people wonder why I can’t interact with friends, much less strangers. No results from the lab about my blood sample they took at the clinic yesterday.
I called my friend Teresa and left an e-mail telling her I missed her and fell asleep midway through NCIS. I woke up at 1:30AM (Wednesday) and who knows when I’ll get back to sleep. I’ve decided to occupy my mind and redesigned my websites so that there’s less clutter by making expandable buttons that when clicked open one of my website menus and take the reader there. It takes up a hell of a lot less space and looks better. I worked on it until I got drowsy and yawning through my tears and went to sleep while the birds were chirping merrily outside.
Wednesday the 14th
I woke up at 5:30AM and my sugar was 45! This time I took the insulin at 11:30 yesterday afternoon! Maybe my pancreas is coming back to life? I knocked around the house for a few hours and set my clock/radio so I’d be sure to make it to Dr. Mind today. I must’ve dozed off around 6:30-7 because Dr. Mind called and woke me up canceling our noon appointment today because she had an opportunity to attend her own doctor’s appointment; so we rescheduled for 1:30 tomorrow.
I no sooner hung up from her than the collection calls began. I figured I wouldn’t get any sleep so I stayed up. The three-tone trick on my answering machine seems to work only to a limited set of harassers… alas. I discovered the new baby plecostomus floating dead in my aquarium… after all I went through. I’m pretty sure I can trade him in on a live one. I put him in a sandwich bag and put it in the freezer. If I can ever figure out what I’ll need for ink or postage to send Betsy those photos, or food to last until Friday, I’ll take him over when I go to Wal-Mart. I’ve got around $20 to last another week.
I called Tressa at physical therapy to find out if she’d heard from Dr. P/Knee or from GB and nothing. I got dizzy standing up and fell against the wall with my sore shoulder again/ this sucks. I was supposed to call and get an eye appointment Monday but I can’t move, much less think.
Thursday the 15th
I woke up again with low sugar. I’m getting scared and depressed. Last night I went to sleep begging God to just get it over with and take me. The frustration and helplessness is really beginning to get to me. I took insulin at 11 yesterday morning. I’m down to 6 test strips left and then I’m fucked, so I only took 10 units instead of the usual 25 and it still happened again this morning.
I stood up from the bed and nearly fell on my face. I finally gave up after a few hours and called Dr. Mind’s secretary and canceled.
I keep thinking that I need to call Wal-Mart and find out how much those test strips are, but every time I think of it I forget why I went there as soon as I get to the phone. I’ve been trying to pack up my dad’s photos and send them to Betsy, but can’t get up the strength to do it, and I’m really pissed at myself because today’s her birthday and I was determined to have them to her by now. She called me today and we had a nice talk… god I miss her. I’m afraid to even walk out to the car for fear I’ll pass out or lose my balance.
I took the little fan I have in the den behind me apart trying to fix it. I think if I can afford some 3 in 1 oil or some spray silicone I might get it running again, or I hope I can because I can’t afford a new one. It helps drown out the ringing in my ears that’s driving me crazier than I already am.
I went into my Adsense account and I’m getting lots of clicks from my good friend Brenda. I’ve GOT to e-mail her and thank her. I’m afraid to take my insulin at all today. I wonder if this could be a side effect from running out of the Janumet?
It was sunny and over 80 degrees today and I couldn’t make myself leave the apartment. I fell asleep this afternoon and woke up screaming this evening. I had a bizarre nightmare where I peered out the window and Santa Clause as big as life was floating in mid-air just outside of my balcony railing. Then I laughed when I saw that they were using a “cherrypicker rig” to put a big plastic one on the roof. The guy dressed up like Santa began slipping out of his sleigh and screamed for me to help him, but I couldn’t reach far enough out to grab him and he was really terrified. Suddenly he reached out caught my hand and the rig moved outward away from the balcony leaving me hanging in mid-air. He laughed and let go of me and I grabbed a runner on his sleigh. that was as sharp as an ice-skater’s blade. I looked down and one of my Somolian attackers was at the controls and began shaking the rig back and forth. I looked up at Santa and he took off his beard and it was another of my attackers and he began beating me over the head with his gun and I fell. I woke up just before I hit the ground. I spent most of the evening thinking there was snow on the ground outside and it was probably better not to drive on it anyway and stay home.
God, I’m fucked up.
Friday the 16th
No low blood sugar this morning (what a relief) I decided to call Wal-Mart and find out how much the test strips are for the glucose meter. They said they were $15.99, which means somehow Anthem is still discounting them.. I hope. That’ll mean skimping on food until next Friday’s check with noodle mixes and breaded chicken patties and canned ravioli, but I’m in danger of unintentionally killing myself using too much or too little insulin without those strips. This is crazy. I’ve only got around $35 left in checking, which will leave me barely enough to ship those photos and antique frames to Betsy along with my leftover percocet.
It was tough focusing my eyes this morning. I’ve only got two weeks before my driver’s license expires and I’m getting royally pissed at myself for not calling for an appointment… mainly because I won’t have the money for the upfront co-pay that they ask for before they’ll even let me see the doctor. I just got a bill from Anthem; I now owe them almost $160 in monthly fees since January. If they’d just dump me, I might be able to get help with food and/or medical bills. Unfortunately I can’t dump them voluntarily. It’s like the difference of being able to get unemployment after being fired as apposed to quitting… sigh.
I’m beginning to regret not being able to go to see Dr. Mind Thursday; this depression is getting tough to deal with. I’ll sit down for what I think is five minutes and three hours later I’m still sitting there, and over the last few days I haven’t been able to keep the idea of killing myself out of my consciousness. I wake up and I tell myself I’m going to do this, this, this and this. I berate myself that there’s no excuse not to; then I reach for the phone and something stops me and says rather forcefully, “what’s the use?” I’ll see the sun out and think, now’s the perfect time to sow flower seeds out on the balcony or go outside and enjoy a nice drive somewhere with the top down, and I can’t force myself out the door.
I headed out finally this afternoon to go over to Wal-Mart and nearly got to the car when I remembered that the baby plecostomus was left in the freezer and went back up for it. When I got to Wal-Mart’s pharmacy they told me that they’d quoted me the price for the half-prescription of the test strips I’d requested, but the cashier told me they couldn’t break up the box. I had no choice but to buy the whole thing and it ran me $35. Nothing’s left for food or supplest and I’ve just emptied my checking account… FUCK.
I took the dead plecostomus over to Jack’s and they were very nice about it and gave me a new one that’s a little bigger (2 inches). I got out to the car and discovered the gas gauge on the E line. I sat in the parking lot and felt completely deflated of hope. If I ran out of gas on the way home, I’d never be able to walk it with my sore knee to a gas station, and even if I did make it, I wouldn’t have any money to buy it, and would have to resort to begging like some bum. After about 10 minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to chance it. All the way home I kept thinking that I no longer have enough gas to get to Dr. Mind next Wednesday and that’ll make it three weeks in a row.
As it turns out, I was parked on an angle and when I drove home the needle crept just barely above the line; not that that helped, because the last time I ran out of gas that’s where it died too.
I saw a bum begging for money with a cardboard sign and told myself “That’s not me,” and then it hit me-a realization I’ve been denying for years now-it is… that IS me. I was so upset I pulled over and shut off the car because I was so distracted I thought I’d wreck because I wasn’t paying attention. I’m a goddamned hypocrite. When I go to the clinic, when I went to social services, when I sit out in the waiting room to beg for drug-rep samples of prescriptions I can’t afford, I look around me at the others there and tell myself I’m not one of them… but I am… damn it, I am, and it hurts so much. I feel like a little kid crying in frustration in a corner that’s just been punished for something I didn’t do. I think I sat there for about 10 minutes in the side of the exit and then drove home. I’m a bum, a beggar, broke and down on his luck that can’t reconcile in his head that he lives in a downtown penthouse and drives a luxury car. It doesn’t matter that I can’t afford to move financially or physically, or that I owe more on the car than I’d get for it. My god this hurts to think about.
I made it home but the engine coughed once as I was backing into the carport. I’ll have to take the rest of my $2 bills, take my gas can, and walk down to the ridiculously over-priced BP station and buy a gallon or two.
Now that I’ve unintentionally and without knowing it shoplifted my sugar tester batteries, will I be emboldened to try to do it on purpose for something equally important. Should I save back enough to buy printer ink and try to print my own money? Should I go out and try to rob a convenience store hoping to get caught so I can be put in jail so I won’t have to make these decisions, maybe getting killed by a fellow inmate for not joining a gang? It scares me that I seem to have suddenly mentally walked over those railroad tracks and now I’m standing on the proverbial “wrong side of town” in my head and discovered that it wasn’t as scary being here as I thought it’d be.
After she sent me that $30 for the postage, I now can’t send Betsy my leftover painkillers now and she starts work next week. With the calcium spurs in her feet it’ll be hell on her.
I called Cheryl over at Dr. Foot’s when I got home and got her voicemail again.
My ears are ringing really loud in the silence of the den here, so I decided to try using cooking spray as a lubricant for the fan, after all it’s designed to work in the hundreds of degrees, and lo-and-behold it did! I doubt it’ll last long as it’s designed for high temperature cooking not a lubricant, but at least something went right for a change. This is what kills me; I can think of a solution for problems like that, but can’t seem to find a way out of this health or financial maze.
I can’t fall asleep now until around 5 in the morning. I think I’m afraid of going into a glucose coma, so I sit around waiting just in case.
The part of me that wants to end it all and shoot up an entire syringe full of 100 proof Novolog seems to be getting stronger and stronger. I’ve even considered writing up an on-line will. Betsy’d never be able to afford to ship my most loved possessions to Oregon and they’d probably be sold by the state or left on a curb somewhere to rot. Between the nightmares of the attack/attackers, the flashbacks and the doorbells in the middle of the night that aren’t there, my strength to fight is slowly seeping away.
Fortunately I’m still to much of a coward to do it… don’t worry.
Saturday the 17th – Tuesday the 20th
Saturday
I’ve started opening the livingroom curtains trying to let some light into my life… well actually it’s to be able to leave the aquarium lights off during the day. After checking I find I’ve got $4.34 left in my checking account. I feel like hell that I’ve got to make Betsy wait until Friday to mail off the picture frames and antibiotics I promised her three weeks ago.
I still have to play with the fan in the den. It’s like trying to start one of those old propeller planes; you have to spin the blade until it becomes loose enough for the motor to start, which usually takes about a minute and a half of playing with. It’s really strange that it runs fine once it gets started, then freezes when I shut it off. I suspect that the linkage that makes it oscillate is the culprit, but I don’t want to tear it down that far to find out and then not be able to put it back together again.
The trick with the three tones on the answering machine seems to have a limited effect, but still that’s better than nothing. I’m still wondering about the one call that keeps asking me to call a 999 number that doesn’t exist, nor does caller I.D. identify it.
My upper left arm from my shoulder to my elbow really hurt this morning; I’m not sure why, it’s probably muscular.
Thinking about my being no more than a beggar and a bum is really “bumming me out.”
Sunday the 18th
I had another rough night/morning. I couldn’t fall asleep until 5AM and then woke up at 7 to the sound of the non-existent doorbell visitor and couldn’t fall back asleep… groan. I finally dozed off around 11AM and woke up at 3 in the afternoon. I checked my blood sugar and it was 421… this is getting old really fast.
I couldn’t figure out why it was so cold in the apartment and shut the air conditioning off, but that didn’t help. Then I turned on the TV and discovered it was down to 35 last night, and it’s supposed to stay this cold for a while. Ma nature needs a new calendar, it was in the 80s last week.
I’ve had the worst headache all day and I haven’t been able to focus my eyes. I spent the afternoon smelling buttered popcorn all day-god I hope it’s a neighbor instead of a stroke… maybe I’m pregnant?
I am bound and determined-I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow- I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow- I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow- I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow- I WILL call for an eye appointment tomorrow… I hope.
Monday the 19th
The first thing this morning I called OSU eye clinic and got an appointment for this Thursday. They want me to bring my Medicaid card, which I no longer have. I hope Medicare covers this. Would they really turn me away if I don’t have the co-pay they mentioned on the phone? Now all I have to do is find a way to print out my medications list and medical history for them.
I still have yesterday’s headache; I wonder if it’s from my eye problem. I got really tired and wound up falling asleep around 8PM last night, up at 1AM, back to sleep at 4AM… groan.
4 collection agency calls today, all live instead of the robo-caller.
Tuesday the 20th
I woke up screaming this morning. I relived the attack in a dream last night with one difference; he was using a hand hatchet instead of the gun to beat me. I just keep bleeding all over the place and couldn’t stop screaming no matter how many pieces they chopped me into; which made them hack at me even more.
I put some laundry together and took it downstairs. One guaranteed way to meet all of your neighbors is to not shave for a few days, dress up in your most embarrassing clothes, and take a pile of smelly clothes down to the washers-you’ll meet every neighbor you have.
I’ve got a $2 MegaMillions ticket for a few weeks ago and I got into my stash and picked out $5 worth of my bicentennial 50-cent pieces to put into the gas tank Wednesday morning… let’s just hope the car makes it to the gas station two blocks away.
After I discovered the freezer empty, I did an inventory. I’ve got noodle and sauce mix and cans of tuna to last until Friday.
I’m going to have to get in touch with Lawyer K soon about my medications when I go into the hospital in September for my knee operation. Now that GB is going through my hospital bills and refusing to pay for any medications that don’t have to do with the knee surgery, I’ve got to find a way to get Grant Hospital to allow me to bring my own stuff, because I can’t afford to pay for theirs.
I’m frankly shocked that I don’t have another ulcer. If anything goes wrong; even the tiniest thing, I’ll be in trouble, like I was when I had the flat tire. Hopefully it’ll be warm enough outside to put the top down to see Dr. Mind tomorrow. It’s been three weeks-I try not to go that long without seeing her. I turn another year older in a little more than a week and a half… alone. God the parties my friends used to throw me… sigh
I lost my balance again this morning and banged my knee on the wall… par for the course. Tomorrow morning should be interesting, I’ll have to set the clock/radio to make sure I don’t miss Dr. Mind and I’ll have to leave myself time to get to the gas station first.
Wednesday the 21st thru Friday the 23rd
Wednesday:
I ran out of gas trying to get to my appointment with Dr. Mind… fortunately it was only 20 feet or so from the gas pump. It was an adventure pushing the car to the pump then as it started rolling downhill towards Rich St. trying to scramble in to hit the brakes before it caused an accident… then pushing it backwards uphill to the pump again. The BP is gouging customers because it’s the only gas station downtown and the price was $3.20 a gallon. Then the middle-eastern clerk had never seen fifty cent pieces before which delayed me even further.
My session with Dr. Mind went well. I got out all of my frustrations and concerns about my thoughts of suicide.
I determined that I would do something constructive when I got home, so I set down an outline for not one-but two articles to write. One concerning Nepal’s newly formed government sending out official invitations for gays to marry on the slopes of Mt. Everest, and another on the new $100 bill.
Thursday the 22nd
I got up early and knocked out the article on gay weddings on Mt. Everest, and then to my shock took all of only 2 hours to knock out the 2nd article on the new hundred-dollar bill. After only being published once every other month or so, I actually published two in one day!!! Then I took a shower and checked on Google Earth for the location of the new OSU eye clinic and left.
Unfortunately it wasn’t where Google said it was, but I found it eventually and still got there on time. Thankfully they didn’t demand a co-pay. The wait was nearly two hours just to get in to see the pre-exam nurse, then another half an hour to see the eye doctor’s assistant who gave me the eye exam, then another 45 minutes to see the doctor to give me the results.
The reason I’m having so much trouble in my eyes lately is that I’ve developed cataracts in both eyes. He said he saw the remnants of the old hemorrhage, but that the unfocused left eye is a cataract and that one is growing in the right eye as well; which is why my vision is worse. He asked me if I thought the colors I see have been getting paler and I said yes but I thought it was psychological; he said no it’s the cataract yellowing the inside of my eye. I’ve had several people comment on how “colorful” my blog banners have been, but until now I didn’t know it was because I was over over-compensating for it. He warned that I need surgery and soon before they grow larger, and wants to see me back in two weeks… not in time for my eye-test for my license.
He said lots fo people drive with only one eye and that I should be able to see enough out of my right one to pass the test. I left the eye clinic just in time for rush hour traffic.
What next?
As it turned out, rush hour was a blessing with slower moving cars. With the drops they put in my eyes during the exam, I wasn’t able to completely focus my eyes and the bright light they use to look inside my pupils to dilate them also blinded me. I had to sit in my car for a while to be able to barely drive home without killing myself or anyone else. I couldn’t focus or read my computer screen without squinting and using the glasses at the end of my nose. Normally I don’t need glasses to read the screen. It made me feel old.
I had time to think and came to realize that the reason I have so much trouble with strangers is that I didn’t used to be afraid of them, in fact I welcomed them. When those three came up to me, I just assumed they were three of hundreds that came before them who were hopelessly lost in a maze of duplicate apartment building numbers and hoped I would help… so I smiled a welcome at them with a cheerful, “Hello!” and only then saw his gun. Since then I’ve been shy to downright worried when one even comes close to approaching me.
Friday the 23rd
My eyesight thankfully cleared up enough in my right eye that I could read the screen this morning.
GB didn’t deposit my check today… FUCK! Just when I was feeling safe too. I knew I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I know that e-mailing and calling will do nothing, so I’ll have to wait until Monday. I decided to occupy my pissed-off mind today by combining two articles I’d written about American right-wing fundamentalism and then updated the result to talk about the Tea Party movement. I submitted it this afternoon, but so far it hasn’t been published. It’s a bitch waiting for some editor to read through it, but I had to agree to let BlogCritics publish my material first before it can be published somewhere else.
They have a much better readership than my blogs do, so for now I’ll have to live with someone who doesn’t agree with me editing my work. The good news is that after they publish it, I can publish my own version if I don’t agree with what they did to it. Often it’s better as they’re college educated professional editors and I’m just a blogger… we’ll see.
It hurts like hell between my left shoulder and elbow and I can’t figure out why, especially when I try to reach around myself and scratch my back. Maybe it’s from pushing the car. I can’t tell if it’s muscular or bone. GOD I MISS THE GYM over at physical therapy. Risking going to the one downstairs without a spotter is still out of the question. That’s another call I’ll have to make on Monday.
At least my den fan is still working.
At least after seeing Dr. Mind last Wednesday, I don’t feel like killing myself as much this week. I’ve only had one flashback and no nightmares.
Monday the 26th
The revamped and updated editorial on the Republican Tea Party was published Friday evening and was a huge success with commenter from all over the world on the Blogcritics’ site agreeing and debating.
Despite that my right hand hurts like hell and I fear I may have fractured or broken something, and typing this is definitely not fun. The GB deposit finally showed up on my checking account this morning. I didn’t eat yesterday and was starving (at one point I was tempted to try Mischief’s dry cat food) but I settled for reconstituted dried chopped onions with a little salad dressing, which is all I have left in the cupboard. Anyway, I headed out to Wal-Mart at first light and picked up some groceries. After the rent, electric and car insurance I’ve got $71 to last two weeks, so I chose food over drugs and bought about $45/8 day’s worth of groceries with the gas guage reading empty again. I got really pissed as I drove past gas stations selling it at $2.85 @ gallon because I paid $3.15 last Wednesday. After groceries, I’ve got just under $25 left; $15 of which has to go to mailing Betsy the pictures and my leftover antibiotics and pain pills. Ten bucks-ten bucks to buy 7 more days of groceries… God help me is something even trivial comes up.
I got home, put all my supplies away and programmed the bill payments into my account… and that’s when I slammed my fist onto my desk.
I forgot I have to renew my driver’s license by Friday, and didn’t save back any money for it.
My hand is kind of swollen and it hurts like hell when I flex my fingers.
What next, what fucking next? And it’s only noon. The rest of the day should be an adventure.
For about 9 months now I’ve been plagued with a problem in my eyes that now makes sense; if it’s a bright sunny day, I lose any perception of the color black and it’d get difficult to tell what color a traffic light was against a bright sky. With cataracts inside both eyes, when the sunlight hits them they catch that light. The effect is like trying to see around a bright flashlight in a completely dark cave.
I had another of my “comas” where I sat down at noon and three hours later I thought it was 10 minutes later. Dr. Mind calling to say she had a meeting on Wednesday and rescheduling for 1PM instead of our usual noon shook me out of it. I lost three hours that I’d meant to use to pack up the pictures.
Last weekend’s headache went away finally.
The knot on my left elbow began swelling again this evening and I squeezed it and a little puss came out. The skin where it got swollen before has been contracting, and after it goes down it cracks and gets hard and flakey. An infection probably got in, but nothing to be too worried about. After a few more squeezes the swelling went way down. I think if I keep putting rubbing alcohol on it, it’ll be okay.
While going through my Eisenhower dollars I remembered a Big Boy’s waitress I knew in Chicago near Midway airport that’d I’d see every time I was in town. One day I complimented her on a beautiful silver medallion she wore around her neck. She told me she’d taken a big Eisenhower dollar I’d given her, had it polished to almost chrome shininess and had it mounted as a necklace. She told me she tells everyone who asks about it that it was the nicest tip she ever got. It made me think of all the people I’ve touched in one way or another and it made me smile. I had a guy tell me once that he recognized me from when I used to deliver pizzas at Ohio State. He said I was his earliest childhood memory because I gave him a little toy Domino’s Pizza “Noid” around Christmas.
One of mine (thought not the first) was living near a railroad crossing and running out when a train approached and the men in the caboose would throw candy to all of us kids. I wonder what would happen if one of those men recognized me…
Tuesday the 27th
The swelling at my elbow has gone down, so it looks like draining it did the trick.
I’m trying to get myself into some sort of mental shape to try to make myself go downstairs to the gym everyday and at least use the stationary bike and do some light lifting. I’ve tried before only to come back because of the number of strangers down there. it’s be great if I could because then I could sauna and shower afterwards and not have to use my own hot water.
I got a ton of collection agency calls today so I guess the three-tone trick didn’t work. My knee really bothered me when I woke up, which served to remind me to call Tressa at physical therapy. She said she hadn’t heard anything, so I called Dr. Knee’s office but only got Cheryl’s voice mail. She never called me back.
When I got to get my license renewed tomorrow I’ve decided to do it after seeing Dr. Mind. That’ll give me all afternoon to get my eyes focused. Since I’m there I’m going to pick up my Cymbalta, which thankfully is still free.
I experimented with my e-mail and tried to text my good friend Brenda and it worked. I just have to be careful who I text now because they get charged for them. She’d e-mailed me all pissed because she thought it wasn’t fair that I was all bothered about getting the photos to Betsy, and I told her she must’ve missed my earlier entry about Betsy sending me $30 and feeling like shit about spending it on food instead of using it for what it was supposed to be for. Anyway we reconnected, which was nice.
This whole financial thing should’ve happened last year, but I was given a reprieve because the electric meter went on strike and the city didn’t fix it for a year, so I had that extra $90-120 a month to buy groceries and prescriptions. Now that they’ve fixed it, I screwed.
The sudden burst of writing energy left me and I’m really disappointed. I thought I could keep the momentum going and polish off some of the reviews I owed Blogcritics, but it’s left me again.
I hope it’s sunny tomorrow.
Wednesday the 28th thru Friday the 30th
In no particular order…
My good friend Brenda sent me a birthday card with $25 in it. I wish I could spend it on something other than cat and fish food, and enough groceries to last until Friday of next week. God love her. I sent her an e-mail and said I was making a little statue of her to put on my dash board.
A huge internal controversy has sprung up over Blogcritics insisting that we not self-publish our own material until 24 hours after they do because Google apparently is trying to give BC a hard time. Many writers (myself included) disagree, but what can you say when my own stuff has ten times the number of readers there as on my own sites here? BC is also insisting that we add a line to our articles that we publish afterward that it was originally published at BC first and link to it. With everyone complaining of the hassle of trying to add a link code to each of their articles, I posted a quick and painless way that our Blogspot HTML could do it automatically each time we published an article and now I’m a hero because it never occurred to anyone to do it that way, so I’m getting glowing e-mails thanking me and calling me a genius.
I was in a really deep funk for a day or so because I failed my eye test for my driver’s license. I’m really depressed because it seems things only get worse instead of anything getting better in my life. My upcoming eye exam might change things, but I’ll have to pay an additional $26 to get the status on my license changed which I can’t afford, so I’ll begin driving illegally now. If I’m caught I automatically get transported to the police station, my car expensively impounded and I’ll have to find a ride home.
I finally posted Betsy’s package with the family pictures and the antique frames, and some of my leftover painkillers and antibiotics. I was talking to her on the phone trying to find which address she wanted me to send them to, and discovered even more painkillers I didn’t realize I had. I had to open the package and rearrange things and didn’t realize until I resealed it that I’d forgotten to put the CD-rom discs of the photos off of Dad’s computer back in. I’ll just have to e-mail them to her.
I got a letter today from my stepsister Charlene. In it I found what appears to be a letter that my father posted years ago that he sent to her by mistake. In it he expresses his sorrow that we lost touch and that he still wanted us to be close friends despite our differences. Since I never got this letter until five years after he died, I never knew. I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for this. Fortunately around 1999 I reestablished contact with him when I found out he didn’t’ remember a lot of our family life in his old age and became his friend instead of his son on my own.
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