yuuo: (In the eyes of a wounded child)
That joke is not nearly so funny to me these days.

Last night at Food Net, there was a 'gentleman' who was on the outside of our row- thereby haveing Wife and I trapped between what amounted to a wall and him -who was getting... shall we say... 'agitated' every time our row wasn't called. (For those who don't know, Food Net is a community-based food bank, basically. Good food, fresh donated from local grocery stores, no minimum income caps to meet.)

By 'agitated', I mean, standing up fast enough to kick his chair out from under him, and slamming the chair between him and I around, and generally acting like he was ready to attack someone.

I was trapped between him and what amounted to a wall.

Last night, I spent all night dreaming that I had gotten a call at Partial and was told I'd lost my mother to a heart problem without having had a chance to tell her I loved her, or say goodbye, or even find out if she got our birthday present to her.

Today at partial, I had playing cards thrown at me by someone who lost his temper at having to play a game he didn't want to and was pissed about his medicines.

This afternoon, I napped and dreamt the whole time of people being angry and yelling and me doing everything I could to keep them quiet and happy and appeased, because I was scared that if I didn't, it'd get taken out on me, even though some of what I was promising to do, I was physically incapable of doing.

This evening, my wife spent a few hours at a hotel because my sister worked there and was getting stalked by a guy who was a guest there that night, and my wife was buddy systeming her.

My hands keep shaking from whatever medicine problem I'm having, and I couldn't talk to the doctor post-lunch about it, because he had an emergency he had to go to and left by noon, and I hadn't noticed the shaking until after lunch. And it's now the weekend, so I can't even get to my regular doctor until Monday. So if something really goes south, it's off to the ER with me.

If the eclipse weren't Monday, and I didn't have people coming in from out of state to see us and it, I'd just give up now and go to in-patient so I could get some medication that didnt' leave me a shaky twitchy mess, and hopefully be in a less scary environment.

Of course, the other patients there would probably be scarier than I've already faced, so I wouldn't be any safer than if I hide in bed here and hope the kitchen cleans itself.
yuuo: (I won't let you fall apart)
I feel drugged. Tired. Slept all night, right up until the alarm just about, still feel sick as hell. Is this withdrawal? Because it sucks.

Is it bad that I hope they put me on Effexor just because it makes one of the people in partial bright and happy and I want that?


Aug. 16th, 2017 08:56 pm
yuuo: (Born unto fire)
There are already Nazis here in Lincoln. They've been spotted, tiki torches and all, at the capitol building.

Glad I got my weapons back from my brother.

Remember, when calling 911 to report a dangerous situation (as is any with a Nazi), describe the other person, including what they're wearing. Then describe yourself, including what you're wearing, because presumably, you'd like the cops to not shoot at you if there's an altercation, tell them that you feel afraid for your life. Don't tell them anything else regarding why you may take any actions you take, if you get physically violent with the Nazi. Just say you feel afraid for your life. Say that if necessary, yes, you want to be taken to the hospital afterwards, but no, you will not be making a statement until you've sought legal counsel. If an officer asks why after the mess is over, tell them you're too emotionally unstable from fear and adrenaline crash to be able to be reliable, and you'd like to seek legal counsel.

Period, full stop, run program.

After that, it's up to you. Each person must decide how much they are capable of giving in this fight. We should all be violently opposed to Nazis, and quite frankly, if you can do it and not get swarmed, I'd say go for it. But be careful, be aware of your situation and your surroundings, and be mindful of your physical capabilities. If you have a bad hand, try not to punch with that one, for example. Fight back. #resist. But don't be stupid.

That's your PSA for the day.
yuuo: (I don't need to be the king of the world)
Ugh, that song's stuck in my head now.

Partial continues to go well. There was... not quite a spat, but something that angered me deeply that I can't get too far into, due to privacy reasons, but it came down to one person's opinions on suicide and 'choice' and I was ready to go off my nut at that person. I don't think this person is actually mentally ill, they're in for a near nervous breakdown due to extreme grief (lots of losses very rapidly in the last few years, one in the last month, I think), so I don't think this person fully understands what it's like to battle your own brain day in, day out, day in, day out, all your goddamn life, with little to no hope of recovering.

'Choice' my ass.

Speaking of, we watched an old video called Dark Glasses and Kaleidoscopes, which I saw last time I was in, about bipolar disorder. It's quite a bit dated, they were still calling it manic depressive, and it was hosted by the guy that played Mister Cleaver in Leave It To Beaver, although he was significantly older in this video than he had been in the show. But that dates it a bit, I think.

It's not a bad one, and it explains a lot why some people can't take anti-depressants, if they have manic tendencies, or even full blown mania. Anti-depressants can trigger a 'high' like that, which I think is what my doctor decided was going on with my Fetzima. Which makes me question my diagnosis of schizoaffective (yeah, that was officially changed from schizophrenia to that, but since it's so closely related, I maintain my advocacy for schizophrenia) as the depressive type. I can't help but wonder if it's not bipolar type.

Which would very much suck, as that makes anti-depressants a tricky game. I can't function without them, but I apparently can't function with them. "I hear there's a fine line between crazy and sad, but I can't tell the difference up close."

But this video talking about mania, and especially hypomania, and how it can seem like a 'natural personality' to someone, particularly the person with the disorder, and some people were asking that inevitable question that we all ask and get asked (frequently) - "When you take the sick away, who am I supposed to be?"

And it's not an easy question to answer. If you've spent so much time swinging between two extremes, who's that person in the middle? Does that person exist? How can you tell what's 'normal' and what's the illness? I think that might be harder for some disorders than others to answer, but we all ask it. And it's not one we can easily answer, and it's one that haunts us and chews on us.

But it is infuriating when an outsider asks it. When someone who's not there, who's not in our heads, who's not in these same places we are, asks "how do you know that's who you really are on the drugs?" or makes some stupid comment about how the drugs make you someone you're not.


Just like with suicide and choices, until you are down here, drowning in this mud and blood and these tears, you do not get to tell us that we have to stay off of medicines because of our 'natural personality'. You don't understand, we may not know who entirely we are when we're healthy, but that person is far better off than we are now! I don't care if it does 'change me' to go from a depressed and spazzy mess to a normal and happy person. I would rather be a stranger to myself and learn to know myself and who I am without the sick than to stay sick.

So don't you dare come into our spaces and make those remarks. Don't you dare.

Onto more personal news in this.

The Latuda made me sick after lunch again. Thankfully, the doctor listened to me when I said "I want something to make me stop being sick all the time," and prescribed me a short term prescription of Zofram. I'm to use it until the nausea goes away, or until I run out, whichever happens first, and if the nausea continues after a week of mild treatment, I'm to go back to my regular doctor and let him know that one of those drugs - pretty sure the Latuda, since the nausea coincides with me taking it, but the doctor reminded me that I'm also going through Fetzima withdrawal and that could be adding to the problem - and tell him that I either need this medicine long-term, or I need something else done to eliminate this problem. Because he agreed that I shouldn't have to go through this every day of my life.

Hopefully, I'll get sleep tonight so I'm properly rested tomorrow. That'd be faboo.
yuuo: (I won't let you fall apart)
I had decent energy all day. I suspect this will not last.

Kristie is as wonderful as I remember. I still get scared when I'm pulled out of the 'class' to meet with the social worker and nurses individually, because those're kinda random, and there's a lot the first day, and back in school, that usually meant you were in trouble. Still working on that anxiety thing.

But, I'm keeping my anti-anxiety meds with me, and I have my fidget spinner (yay! I forgot I had that in my purse!) and the group is much friendlier than the last time I was in. I'm a little concerned for a couple of them, and one's one of those "It's all in God's hands" types that makes me go "gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag," but this group actually insisted I sit with them. Last time I was in partial, nobody even noticed that I sat alone.

I think if I can keep from napping several hours after getting home, I'll do better, because then I'll get shit done at home and not feel like I'm not being productive.

I'm a little unhappy with how many people fuck around with their phones and take calls in class. that's a no-no in the rules, and there's a few who still do it. I may talk to Kristie about that, that's very disruptive to me.


Aug. 15th, 2017 07:51 am
yuuo: (Theory about the bitter one)
Okay, so, I spent yesterday off of Facebook. I also spent a great deal of time asleep, because of depression. Fall out from the day before, plus I keep getting reviews to one of my stories on AO3 where people are like "omg not okay!" One was using tumblr speak for "this hurt ;_; good hurt but ouch. ;_;" I initially reacted to it badly, because I was afraid I had approached a subject inappropriately (it does feature alcoholism, so....) but was quickly reassured that it was a good review.

Then I got one yesterday where the person was... complimenting the style and prose, but was 'so shaken' by the ending that they had to get up to walk around twice just to compose their rather short review.

Like, I'm... I'm sorry? That's kind of the reaction I'm going for, in that I write angst, I write the sucker punch endings, at least the ones I write in the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom, have since I started writing there in 2004.

It just made me feel like a terrible person and like I couldn't do anything right, so I ended up going to the hospital. Not for in-patient, but to get into the out-patient 'partial' hospitalization program, which is basically glorified group therapy. I was in it about this time last year, and it helped enormously. I realize that some of it was because I was on an anti-depressant for the first time that was helping, but thinking back, I really think a lot of it was this program. Because while the medicine remained working for several months after that just fine, one-on-one therapy didn't make me ... shine, quite as much as partial group had.

So I went in to triage at the ER (the only way to get in, apparently), and spent 3+ hours waiting through a long line of fellow mentally ill people going in for check-in. I actually got approval from the psychiatrist for admittance to the partial program before the ER doctor came in to evaluate my physical health before I could be released. Usually, it's the other way around, but they were just that busy. Good grief.

So here I am, awake at 8am, about to leave to go do my Day One check in stuff and sit through what basically amounts to a school day's-worth of group therapy. If the staff is roughly the same, I should do well, even without my anti-depressant, of which I took my last this morning. The only staff I recall hating was one man, the chaplain, and he was a temporary one because their normal one was out on vacation, I think? I don't remember, but I know I hated this guy.

I will have words if he is there. Or at least if he tries to make me participate in his Jesus Loves You shit. He may not remember me, but last time, he found out I was a pagan and started really singling me out to Talk To Him in class about this 'universal laws of forgiveness'. (Dude, I'm a daughter of Loki- the guy was so forgiving that he eventually snapped and started Ragnarok in revenge. There's something to be said for saying "no, I don't forgive you" and walking away.)

But the guy they normally have is supposed to be good, so we'll see.

I hope the Carrie Fisher look-alike is there. I recall adoring her, and it'll be nice to see her.
yuuo: (Lay my head under the water)
It's storming. It's five in the morning. I haven't been to bed yet. I've been screaming and yelling on Facebook against people who still insist on non-violence against actual literal Nazis who are actually literally killing us, and getting told to be nice all night. I am almost done with my anti-depressant. Today's the first day I'm not going to therapy on a Monday for good. I just took my night meds, including a bit more hydroxyzine than I'm prescribed (shh) i the vague hopes that it'll knock me out and let me sleep so I don't have to exist for just a few hours.

Just a few hours. Please. That's all I ask.

I'm done. Just a few hours.

You know that saying about how courage doesn't always roar, that sometimes it's the quite voice at the end of the day that says 'I will try again tomorrow'? Yeah, running out of that. I don't want to keep trying. I'm screaming into a void and nobody fucking cares.

Gonna try to sleep now. Maybe I'll work on writing in the ... well probably afternoon, at this point.
yuuo: (Default)

I love this group so much, but this song continues to bug me. I get what they're going for, but... it bothers me on a deep level. Especially this part-

"We throw tantrums like parties
We're not happy 'til everyone knows we're sick
And that's just how we like it
We've hurt bad enough, right, we've earned it

Don't tell the others but it's all getting old
I mean how many more times must our stories be told?"

I'll tell you how many more times our stories must be told. Again and again and again and always just one more time, even when/if we finally get the world to understand that WHAT WE HAVE FOR TREATMENT RIGHT NOW IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH. That the social stigma is NOT OKAY. Keep doing it, lest they forget and things get bad again.

Always just one more time. Always.
yuuo: (You knew the deal- no one gives a damn)
Said to an in-law on Facebook. Cousin-in-law said he hated dealing with crazy people- crazy people turned out to be unmedicated mentally ill person. Cousin-in-law's mother replied with 'there's a world of them out there.'

Excuse you.

"About 18% of the American population is affected by anxiety- that's over 40 million, many of them my generation- the millennials -and the ones after us. Depression affects 6.7% of the population- that's over 15 million of us. 2.6% for bipolar- over 5.7 million. 1% affected by schizophrenia - 3.2 million. Worldwide, 1.5 million more will be diagnosed with that this year. My disorder is schizoaffective- we're about the same as schizophrenia, a little less, actually.

Yes, there is a whole world of us out there. And we're suffering. We're suffering and too many of us aren't getting any help, or the help we're getting is insufficient. I just had a medicine change because I was suffering from violent psychosis again. We had to up my anti-psychotic and take me off my anti-depressant because it's the only thing that had changed to possibly have caused the manic-like psychosis. I will soon have nothing treating my depression.

Over 41 thousand people will kill themselves this year. Most of them are people with mental illnesses.

There's a whole world of us and we're _dying_.

Please be careful how cavalierly you say 'there's a whole world of them out there'. We're not a 'them'. We're people, and we're suffering, and we're DYING."
yuuo: (Bits of a star gone wrong)
I know what I want
And then I don't
Tick tock goes the clock
Back and forth
Back and forth

I don't know what I'm thinking
If there's even anything there at all
But I know what I'm not
Stable, stable
Okay, never okay

I'm lost inside this dizzy noise
I wanna scream and scream
I want to die
And sleep
And dream no more

Please stop your crying
I'll never do it again
I'll just be passive and quiet
I didn't realize I was scaring you
Give me a place to rest

Empty me out
Make me weightless
Maybe ol' Sarah was right
And I'll find some peace tonight
I just don't see that happening

Wring me out
Leave me to dry these tears
How many times am I going to have to do this?
How much time?
How many years?

I'm so sick of the tension
Sick of the hunger
Sick of me acting like you owe me this
I need-
I need that place to rest

If I give in
It'll eat me
Chew me up
And spit me out
But hey, happy hurts sometimes

Like the song says
I gotta ask
What's wrong with me when happy hurts?
What's worse,
Why I gotta scream

Until the air is fire
And I'm burning

I can't stop the screaming
Going on in my head
So make it stop
Let this end
But who am I supposed to be
When you take the sick away?
yuuo: (Happy hurts sometimes)
Ended up not going to the hospital! Yay!

Ended up with medicine changes that wasn't what I was wanting, but at least we're attempting something to keep me out of the hospital, so yay!

Money.... not so yay.

Copay on prescriptions suddenly non-existent...? Uh.

I mean, not that my copays were high to begin with, $3.60 on my name brands, but this time, it was zero. Including on the name brand. I mean, if something's changed in my favor, cool, but I'd better call tomorrow to find out what, just so I don't get hit with back owed later down the line and not be able to pay then.

My wife's gift for me came in- I have a beautiful Captain America shrug with sleeves for my tank tops. ♥ And I now have a Slytherin notebook.

(Note: These things were ordered back when we had the money to spare, they're just now coming in the mail.)
yuuo: (Theory about the bitter one)
No clean clothes. Need a shower. Have a feeling I won't get meds changed, I'll get told to go to the hospital. Can't go without clean clothes and a shower. Never going back to therapy, that trust has been broken.

And she won't be back until 2:30, because she's at fucking yoga, and that apparently means time to take two hour long showers. Great. And she's the one that made me make this fucking appointment.

This day is already shaping into another one that I get the cops called on me for. Fantastic.
yuuo: (I've been up all night drinking)
Anxiety levels are coming down. I think. But irritability and mood swinging is at an all time high. I am a lazy, fat piece of shit and I have to keep trying to remind myself that I'm not, I'm sick, and of course exercise is difficult for me mentally, for a variety of reasons, but among them because I'm so depressed that the idea of getting up just to go downstairs for a drink sounds so exhausting and painful, what am I to do with an hour of exercise? And even if I didn't have that, with my concentration problems, I need something to mentally do while exercising, and you can't read a book while doing the elliptical.

I don't think.

If you can, someone please tell me, because I will be skipping my way down to the gym in about five minutes.

It looks like, instead of getting the paint I want next month, I'll be investing in a cheap mp3 player for the gym. Gods forbid I get to get something I want.

(I used to have one, but I used it so rarely that it kinda died and wouldn't resurrect on me. I guess if I go to the gym again...)

It would've been nice to get proper sleep last night. That would've helped.
yuuo: (Sweet Maria)
I wrote a song. Be nice to me, this is my first time. ::flutters eyelashes::

Oh Heaven

Oh heaven
Let me go
Oh heaven
Just leave me alone
Oh heaven
I'm walking away
Because all along
You were never going my way

Walk me down that aisle in white
Hear me pledge my undying devotion
But the congregation was all wearing black
The day-
Oh that day-
When the rest of my life was drowned in the ocean

Oh heaven
Let me go
Oh heaven
Just leave me alone
Oh heaven
I'm walking away
Because all along
You were never going my way

I gave you my oath, 'til the day that I died
I gave it all so you could take away
But you marked 'return to sender' a few bricks heavier
Then came the day-
Oh that day-
The shoulder you promised wasn't there when I cried

Oh heaven
Let me go
Oh heaven
Just leave me alone
Oh heaven
I'm walking away
Because all along
You were never going my way

Send me down that road of good intentions
Give me a map so I know where to go
And when I get to the end
Of that road of good intentions
I will at last have found my home

Walk me down that aisle shrouded in white
Hear me pledge my devotion to death and beyond
And now I pray-
Oh how I pray-
To break the bondage of that day

Oh heaven
Let me go
Oh heaven
Just leave me alone
Oh heaven
I'm walking away
Because all along-
Because all along-
Because all along-

Oh heaven
You were my hell
yuuo: (It's amazing to me)
Okay, so I hear both sides of the 'trans women do/don't have male privilege' debate and I want to settle down my side.

This statement is both true and false entirely dependent upon how you define the word privilege.

If a trans woman is not lucky enough to be raised as a transgender girl, she has a lack of privilege in that she grows up misgendered, and- for some -with a nasty case of body dysphoria. That's not privilege. But that kind of privilege that cismen and ciswomen have is cis privilege. That's a different, but intersectional, kettle of fish.

If a trans woman is riased male on into her adulthood, she is raised to understand that her word matters more than that of female-bodied people, that her dick is more important than the reproductive bits of female-bodied people. This is male privilege, and yes, a trans woman most certainly has this kind of male privilege. Society has given that to her, until the age she comes out, and possibly starts transitioning, though not all trans women transition.

Third gender people with the male plumbing have the same problem, most times.

Now, I want to make it clear: any feminism that doesn't include my trans sisters is not a feminism I want.

That said, the table of feminism is large, and has many areas of concern that affect different women (and men) in different ways. This no less makes them women's issues.

But that society-granted male privilege that many trans women had before coming out makes them think that their place there is more important. That's why so many will scream about how we shouldn't call reproductive rights 'women's rights', because 'not all women have vaginas'. Yeah, well, no shit, but it's still part of the feminism table, and not one you belong at, so sit down and shut the fuck up, this isn't your place. This is why I get messages from trans women who bitch at me that I don't know what I'm talking about when I say uterus-related issues don't affect trans women the way they do cis women or trans men or female-bodied third genders, because "omg I want a child the natural way!" as if that had anything to do with what I said.

I'm sorry, my trans sisters, but that is a women's issue you have no place in and need to shut the fuck up. Your word doesn't matter there.

This society-granted male privilege is also why you get trans women screaming "TRANSPHOBIA!" when a straight man or a lesbian woman won't get sexually involved with them, because they have a penis. Guess what, ladies? Not everyone wants your junk. It's really that fucking simple. I won't get sexually involved with a trans woman because penis + me = smash it with a hammer, clip it off, and stick it on a Rotato (TM). It's not because they have 'issues' they 'need to work out'. It's that they don't like dick. End of story.

(On that tangent, I'd like to say that while there is nothing wrong with being a 'gold star lesbian' or whatever the equivalent would be for a straight man, it's how you say you are one that makes the difference between "sorry, not into you and your parts" and "I am a transphobic butthole that needs a two-by-four to the face.")


On to the part where they have pretty much the opposite of privilege.

Spending their lives being misgendered. Something cis men and cis women will pretty much never have to worry about. That is cisprivilege that they lack. Many of them grow up with body dysphoria, another thing that those with cisprivilege will never have to go through.

Trans women have a hard time finding places at the feminism table because too many cis women won't count them as 'real women'. This is disgusting transphobia and it needs to end, right the fuck now. Again, any feminism that doesn't include my trans sisters can take a flying leap, just as quickly as white feminism and straight feminism. My trans sisters deserve a place at this table, and there are issues they deal with that a female-bodied person who is not a trans man will never have to deal with, and we need to shut the fuck up and listen, and listen well. We need to stop saying that they're not 'real women'. They are. They're real women, just as much as my wife is, who is a cis woman. They're even more woman than I am, because while I was raised as a cis woman, I am not a cis woman. I'm not a woman. I'm a Third Gender. Just because I don't have body dysphoria (most of the time) about my female body, and don't get worked up over pronouns and generally go by female ones because I'm lazy, that doesn't mean that I am a woman, and my trans sisters are more women than I am, in that sense.

And there are issues they speak of that I will gladly sit down and shut the fuck up and listen to them.

TL;DR, I think the problem is the definition between male privilege and cis privilege. They have (or at least had) one, but never the other. Let's be careful how we define these words, and I think the feminism table will be a happier one.


Jul. 22nd, 2017 02:28 pm
yuuo: (So I'm breaking the habit tonight)
My anti-depressant is supposed to be working, but the last two days, I've been so depressed that I'm forming suicidal ideation again.

For anyone going through this but doesn't like to talk on phones, text 741741. It's a Crisis Line, same as the phone ones, but you'll get talked through with text messages, instead of talking out loud. Good for a lot of reasons. Some of us have phone anxiety, and not everyone's in a position to be able to use an out loud voice at the moment they need the help.
yuuo: (It's amazing to me)
I don't talk too terribly much about my gender identity- I'm not exactly secretive about it, but I prefer to not talk too much, because I don't need it getting back to my mother and having another argument about GLBT issues that she knows dickall about because she's one of those Christians that make anyone sane hate them all forever without discrimination burn that mother fucking institution down to prevent more like her.

Just to give you an idea of what her stance on those issues is.

But, as it is mentioned in my profile, I'm pretty laid back about my gender identity. I consider myself Third Gender, in that I am both female and male, depending basically upon where my head is. My hormones don't play a role in that, either- I have an IUD that completely flattens everything and keeps them stable.

But, despite being third gender, I am so apathetic about my pronouns that I'll answer to whatever, including 'hey you' if you're nice about it. I tend towards female pronouns because I'm female-bodied and was assigned female at birth. I am super lazy about my pronouns, because- and I stress that this is for me personally, and not my opinion of those for whom it is the opposite -I don't find it a reason to get bitchy. For me, my pronouns aren't a reason to get up into a snit over, because they're not important to me.

Again, I stress that this is for me only. Of course pronouns can be super important, if they're important to the person wanting certain ones used! And I respect that, and will never tell them they're getting up in a tizz about 'nothing' when to them, it isn't nothing.

But for me, in my life, it is nothing.

So you know, keep calling me whatever you wish, I'm cool with it.

Now, that all out of the way, because I'm just sure that if I hadn't, someone would have thrown a cock and bull shitfit at me, and I'm sure there's someone who still would, but I really don't give a fuck about them at that point.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, right.

Because I've always been comfortable with my female body, or mostly, anyway- my complaints with the icky bleeding thing aside (shut up, I find it icky, that is not ingrained misogyny, that's me hating blood) -I so rarely get body dysphoria. So very rarely. I get a little weird during sex, because that's when my male brain really kicks into gear, but usually, I'm okay with handling my clit or using a fake dick and my fingers to satisfy the need to, you know, thrust.

Right now? No. Oh no.

My libido is rockin' with its tits out, but it wants a penis. Specifically for me to have one. (I am vagina-sexual- cocks don't come near me unless it's fake.) I'm like. "Body. You don't know what it feels like to grab penis and feel it because it's attached to you. You don't. Stop trying to figure out why you can't."

And this makes masturbation very uncomfortable. When your body desperately wants you to be able to grab a piece of external plumbing and go to town, and all you can do is rub at a tiny little nub between a pair of labia lips, it is extremely disorienting, and it makes my reactions to the stimulation weak.

But my libido is driving me crazy and I keep squirming because hot damn, does my body want to orgasm.

Come on, body. Stop this. STOP THIS. STOP THIS THIS INSTANT.


To my fellow vagina-bearing, penis-wanting people, I am feeling that pain something awful right now. Fist bump for surviving without going completely nuts yet.



Maybe not the best wording there.
yuuo: (Here's to us here's to love)
Wife's double-mastectomy went well. Surgeon said he got everything that looked abnormal out of her breast and lymph nodes. (I'd hope he got it all out of her breasts, he took those completely off.) What he took out looked like scar tissue to him, so it's possible she's 100% NED. (Note: NED, not cured. There is no cure for Stage IV breast cancer.) NED meants she's got a decent chance at being one of those tiny outliers who live decades beyond diagnosis. She's already made it past the average three years, and is running strong.

The surgery to remove her ovaries was also successful- they did those at the same time.

She is home, and kinda fading in and out regularly from pain and painkillers. (Hydrocodone/Ibuprofen is a magical thing, and also, if you have issues with Acetaminophen for whatever reason, like my wife, whose cancer had metastasized to her liver, demand this stuff. It's one of the only opiates that's stronger than Tramadol that doesn't come only with Tylenol in it.) But at this exact second, she's up and coherent and on her laptop.

Photographer friend, is who is the first father I became friends with and therefore is very important to us, is leaving today, and it saddens me. Wife's parents leave in a few more days, and Wife's best friend/heart sister is showing up right after that, so I have help with Wife's drains and general care at least until she's at a point where I can do it by myself without having a meltdown. I love my wife, will do anything for her, but uh. I'm not a natural caretaker. I'm not a white mage. I'm the defender. I will fight to the death for her, but medical care is a bit beyond me, at least for long term. So family and friends are all in town to help and I'm so grateful for it.

I'm getting excited to be roleplaying on IJ again. I've been getting some with Wife, but that's on hold until she's fully coherent on a regular basis and can tag without feeling wonky. But, my own heart-sister is joining in, and I'll be playing with her in the meantime. ^_^ Happy me is happy.

I've been kinda plugging away at Hephaestus in the meantime, and Prometheus will be picked back up once I know what's going on in the parts those two overlap at the end. I have a chapter in there to finish now, but it's smushy fluff, and while I love smushy fluff, I have trouble writing it. I'm that writer who likes to rip up your heart and use it for lawn mulch with little reprieve. Suffer my pen. Mwaha.

Cats are doing fine, all told. Loki got his annual and his three year rabies on Wednesday, and Wife went in for surgery on Thursday, so he is more riled than the others. Lots of new people, constantly invading their space (we had some other friends over last night for weekly gaming session), one of them ended up taking a dump on the floor out of stress protest, and we think it might've been Loki, but we're not sure. Thankfully, it was Carolyn who was here to clean it up, and I was at the hospital, so I didn't have to deal with that. :p I'm such a nice person (I would've done it if it'd been me to discover it. I'm not terrible to my cats.)

Although, speaking of taking care of the cats, I need to clean their box. Will do that when I'm done here.

On the mental health front, my doctor put me on clonazapam for my anxiety, since the Ativan had just stopped working and the hydroxyzine was only good for low grade treatment. It puts me to sleep, but it calms my mind in the process. The Ativan put me to sleep, but I was still wound up tighter than a spring when I'd wake up.

I also got my Fetzima upped, because not only is it an anti-depressant, being an SNRI instead of an SSRI, it helps with anxiety... and energy levels. So in about a week, I should start seeing an end to my hypersomnia, at least the level it's been at. It's caffeine pills in the meantime so I can be up when Wife needs me.

And now, I run to do that cat box. Have a good day, friends.
yuuo: (Don't leave me like this)
So I had been in what I thought was a bought of hypomania. Not a natural one, it turned out, as when I started coming down from caffeine exposure, I am back to sleeping all the time, and being unable to focus and get shit done.

I am so sick of this fatigue.
Page generated Aug. 20th, 2017 11:29 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios