A Cautionary Tale of "What the fuck were you thinking?!"

I'm not sure how much I swear on this blog. But I swear a lot in general and especially on my fibro blog. Today's post may include a lot of swearing. And I'm not sure how funny this will be. Because today was a long day.

Last night, my body had what I call "Insomnia Lite". My pain overtakes my pain meds and I can't sleep. I usually give my body a couple hours to settle in, just in case I do actually fall to sleep. But I usually end up getting out of bed and then whining in a blog post like I did last night. I finally got to bed around 4 AM. And, in getting to bed around 4 AM, I slept till 930 AM. After I showered and blowdried my hair, the Disabled Guy came into the room.

And he said: "I think I might be trying to have another seizure."

Me: "What makes you think that?"

Without looking at me, he said: "Because, I get this... this feeling... like jumping... in my gut. And it goes to my throat. It gets tight and then I can't control my motions."

Me: "When did you last not be able to control your motions?" (by the way, I wasn't dressed yet. I was standing there in my underwear and slippers).

DG: "Not the thing. I can't control my mo-motions. Like crying. I just cry for no reason and it won't go away." And he then proceeded to cry for a few minutes.

So, while I put my clothes on and tried to act like I wasn't freaking out, I asked him the usual stroke questions. "Do you feel weaker than normal on one side? Can you see with both eyes? What's your full name? What's my full name? What state do we live in?"

After each answer, he would repeat the thing about his emotions and his "jumpy feeling" in his gut.

After I was sure he wasn't having another stroke, I asked about his seizures. I've seen him have two full-blown seizures in our lifetime. And one of them he had that "aura" thing that some get. It was obvious then that something was wrong. But this time, he acted normal, except for the crying.

I told him we were going to DVR his race and go to the ER. He didn't disagree, so I knew he was scared. After getting my shoes on and taking the dogs out, I asked him if he wanted to go to the local ER or drive the hour to the VA hospital. He said he was good to go to the VA hospital. I told him that if he had a seizure while I was driving, I'd punch him in the face. He didn't disagree with that, either.

So... I had to stop and get gas in the truck and that's when I found out something. About six months ago, he decided he didn't like taking so many pills, so he cut his seizure meds dose by half. Instead of taking two tablets at night, he started taking one tablet. I wanted to punch him in the face right then and there.

HE DECIDED TO CHANGE THE DOSE OF HIS OWN SEIZURE MEDICATION.

The last time he was off the seizure meds was in 1997 when the VA hospital saw fit to wean him off Dilantin, "to see what would happen". About six months later, he had a full-out seizure, complete with the pre-seizure aura, and full-body flailing, including biting a huge gash into his own tongue.

At the VA hospital's ER, they asked him the usual questions ("Why are you here? No, I mean here at the hospital, not man's existence in the universe.") and he started to downplay it, like he does. (he once slipped on the ice and injured some ribs. When the ER doctor asked him how the pain was, he downplayed it, saying it wasn't too bad. I stopped him from talking, imitated a movie quote that I knew would make him laugh. The doctor told me it was a clever move and of course, he was able to see how much pain he was actually in). I interrupted his side-stepping and told the nurse what happened in our room where I was not yet dressed. I left out the "not yet dressed" part because I didn't think it was important to her.

She then started in on the psych eval to make sure he wasn't suicidal or hoarding his pills to attempt suicide. He hasn't been through that before. And I let her do it. He got flustered trying to explain himself and finally looked at me and motioned for me to take over (I usually take over without him asking, if I see him getting increasingly frustrated). After a few more questions, she was satisfied he was just a stubborn asshole and not a suicidal asshole.

When the doctor came in about ten minutes later, he did the same thing. This time, he looked at me, hoping I'd take over and I said: "Nope. You dug yourself a hole, you climb out of it." He managed to get through it and assured the doctor he was a stubborn asshole and not a suicidal asshole.

So, the Disabled Guy learned a few things. One- he is not a doctor or a pharmacist. Two- seizures can kill you (he never believed me when I told him that myself). Three- withdrawals from seizure medication can also kill you. Four- if you're a stubborn asshole who takes medications that are also a treatment for bipolar disorder, you might want to listen to your goddamn doctor and take your fucking meds on schedule.

He promised that he wouldn't do it ever again. He assured the doctor and nurse that he was just tired of taking so many pills. They were satisfied with his assessments (both physical and mental) and sent us home. He's taking his full dose of medication, of course. But they suggested he not handle his power tools in the shop for a few days, to make sure he's got his full sense back while the medication gets back up to the right dose. The doctor told him that he needed to discuss all things with his primary doctor. "If you want to change something, that's who can help you. You should never change things on your own." He's going to submit the report to the primary doctor, so we might have to go back next week for an appointment with him. But let me repeat something:

YOU SHOULD NEVER CHANGE YOUR MEDICATION DOSAGE ON YOUR OWN.

He takes lamotrigine, which, according to Google, is also used (in different dosages) to treat bipolar disorder. So, he was slowly putting himself through withdrawals, without the supervision of his doctor.

So yeah... I've had a very long day. I'm exhausted. While at the ER, he was weepy and a little scared. (as he SHOULD be, for freaking me out like that). He's fine now- watching his DVR'd NASCAR race.

This is the Disabled Guy, in the exam room, between the doctor's visit and the discharge orders.

The Janesville Renaissance Faire and the Disabled Guy

Remember how the Disabled Guy made a treasure chest for my sea captains? Well, last weekend, I was able to give them the treasure chest. They were properly impressed, they couldn't stop raving about it, all the blocks fit absolutely perfectly, and there was room on top of the blocks because of the shape of the lid.

And, they used it- as a box to tote the blocks, as a table, and as a bench. They loved it.

And then it broke. Not badly, just some nails came out and DG blamed himself for not "making it properly". So, he came out to the Janesville Faire with me on Sunday. He didn't "go" to faire, he merely came out with some tools to fix the treasure chest properly. The faire let him set up in the "green room" (where the cast and crew could go to take breaks and eat lunch and so on), so he got to meet a lot of people. I introduced him to as many people as I could and a ton more made their way into meet him on their own (he was there about two hours). And, I accomplished one of my goals- I introduced the Disabled Guy to Jane the Phoole. AND I HAVE A PHOTO OF IT!!

I don't remember what she said, but he was trying not to laugh.



Since I wasn't in the room with him the whole time (I did have to go out and take a few photos of the faire, of course), I have no idea how many people actually greeted him. I do know some of them waited till I was there to have me introduce them, but a lot just said "good morning" or "hi" to him. And everyone was very glad to meet him.

When he was done fixing the treasure chest, I told him he had to pose for a couple photos, then I'd let him go. He was a very good sport about it, because he hates to have his photo taken. But, I managed to get two shots with the sea captains and the treasure chest.

I had them all cross their arms and look "stern" because that's how DG poses for photos when he doesn't want his paralyzed side to be obvious.



Then I told the sea captains to pose however they wanted, because I knew DG wouldn't move. And he didn't.




So, I finally got the Disabled Guy TO the faire on a faire day (as opposed to pre-season at Bristol). I introduced him to as many of my people as I could (he can't remember all of them) and despite wanting to take photos of him with everyone, I didn't. But hey, the photos I got were awesome.

Oh, and the funniest part (at least to me) was as we were walking out to this grassy area- with Frobisher and Hawkyns carrying the chest- I pointed at the other Towers game box (which was set up with the Guild of St. George). I said: "That's the original box, the 'coffin' I said you could make."  The Disabled Guy looked at it and made a scoff-sound with his laugh and said: "Yeah, right."

Because of course he'd never make anything so lame. Sea captains need a treasure chest.

The Disabled Guy hates needles, another Textually Speaking...

I gotta say, these text convos are way easier to share now that I have a phone that does screen captures. I used to have to type them all up manually...

Anyway...

DG hates needles. Which makes the fact he has a monthly blood check even funnier to me. His fear of needles is so bad that he looks away when it happens in a movie. We all do that with some things- for me its anyone causing an injury to themselves. Especially a knee/foot injury, because I've had so many issues with my own that I KNOW how bad it really hurts.

Now, he doesn't faint with this fear of needles. He just can't watch the action. (I can, if they let me. And I'd photograph it, if they'd let me). His fear is that while they're jamming the needles into the flesh, that the needle will break off just under the skin and you'll die before they can stop it. Which is ridiculous and he knows how ridiculous it is- but, phobias make no sense.

This came up because a month ago, I had a steroid shot in my foot for a very long-term plantar faciitis issue. (also known as "bone spurs" and "Pain so bad it feels like a burning hot railroad spike is being hammered into my heel").
Here's a link to my blog about it- with pictures! Well, that shot didn't take. It started out okay, but within a week, I was back to the original level of pain. So yesterday, I had another appointment. My options were limited to: "Get another shot and hope for the best" or "get surgery".

Normally, I'd jump on that surgical bandwagon with the speed of the Flash. Anything to rid myself of this pain. However, one needs at least six weeks to recover (three weeks in a cast) and I don't have that kind of time. In about five weeks, I'm going to start my busy time. The funny thing is- I have about six weeks between all that and the opening of Bristol. But the problem is that I also have fibromyalgia and there is no way to predict how long a delay I'll get from that... but I digress... Today, I sent a text to DG and told him what the doctor told me while I had the needle in my foot.

What he's saying is that he walked into his room, saw a new message 

on his phone and was shocked and grossed out to read what I sent. 

Well, that escalated quickly- Textually Speaking.

You all remember that the Disabled Guy built a fancy treasure chest for my sea captains, right? If not, here's the link to that post. And you all know that I do that whole photography thing... And in that, I do a 365days self-portrait project. I'm on my fifth year. And this is today's 365 (Day 38). This is just a lighting trick. My flash is on a remote trigger, inside the box, and I used my camera's remote to take the photo... and the flash fires when the camera does- giving us this effect. (basically, there's a camera flash inside the box). But that's not important...

The important part is that I sent that photo in a text to DG and this is our subsequent conversation...

A new look... and something not about the Disabled Guy

I've been meaning to update this blog's template and overall look, but I've also been procrastinating myself into oblivion because changing things seemed too much like work. Last night, I was stuck awake with my fibro's idea of insomnia ("diet insomnia", if you will). I changed that one over and let me say, the interface has changed a lot since I first did this. It was easy. The hardest part was updating that banner image. The new photo of the Disabled Guy is from this photo I did for my dad- so it's from October of 2012.

Back when I first set up my blogs, I did the layout and colors in a way so my mom could read them. She preferred the darker background and lighter fonts, so that's how I did it. And, well... its been just over two years since she passed away, four months since we lost Dad.

I know this blog is for my conversations with the Disabled Guy, but I've been wanting to get this out for a few weeks now. I miss my parents every single day. Our lives are never going to be as good as they were when my parents were around. They were good people, good parents, and they are going to be missed by me till the day I die. My day-to-day life has been ripped apart.

But one thing I'm relieved about- and this came to me a few weeks ago- is that I'm glad my dad was active and living his life when he passed away. He went suddenly and he still had plans. But he didn't get sick and linger. Mom got sick and in the last year of her life, she hated "being a burden" to us. She wasn't a burden, but she felt like one. And she hated it. So, I'm glad my dad was able to keep doing what they wanted to do. He got home from a trip on that Saturday and he passed away on Monday- after winterizing his RV for the year.

Sorry to bring you down... if it helps, I was crying through those previous two paragraphs and probably missed some grammar mistakes.

Textually-speaking about sofas and lobsters

A few years ago, DG wanted to build a sofa for our living room because our old one (which wasn't all that old, really) became irreparable. He was looking for a specific type of sofa to copy. You know which kind- from the 1970s- heavy wood construction, bare wood arms and frame, with three cushions with the most god-awful, ugly 1970s style upholstery ever. To do this, he needed me to find a photo of one for him.

I am pretty experienced in Google-fu. I can find almost anything and do so quite quickly. I was so good at Googling things that my dad used to call me and ask me to search for something because it was quicker than him trying to do it himself. But no matter what kind of keywords I put in, I could not find that specific style of sofa. I finally asked in the general discussion area of a message board I used to frequent called "Bonesmart". It was a place for folks with joint replacements and I was one of the youngest people there. And guess what... someone had a photo. Not just a photo, they had the actual wooden frame (without cushions!) in their garage and they literally took a photo for him.

And he built the sofa, which is what we were talking about in this text conversation. I told him that "Raising Arizona" was on and I realized that Nic Cage's character had the entire living room set of that furniture. All those weeks I spent searching the internet for a goddamn photo and it was right there in a DVD that we owned and could have taken a photo of on the TV. So, I've told you all this solely to explain that DG's "I know" is in reply to me telling him that "Raising Arizona" was made by the Coen Brothers, who also made "O, Brother, Where Art Thou?" (a movie that not only he likes, but his father likes too).

So, we went from a discussion about sofas to lobsters, literally like this:



And the "Huge lobster"? Here's that very photo he sent to me.



That is definitely a huge lobster!

Textually-speaking version 2014

So, as you can see... the Disabled Guy is gone again. I won't bore you with the details, because like I just said- BORING.

I was sitting in the living room, as one does when one is trying to watch a movie, and  I was being smothered under Luna and Gregg, as one has happen when one sits down in my house. I snapped a photo with my phone and sent it to DG with the caption:

"I have a slight problem." 

He replied with a non-committal "Okay."

Then I sent this photo.

"Well... then this happened." 

And here is a screen cap of what happened in our conversation next. I'm in blue, he's in yellow- in case you were not familiar with android smartphones.  (for those who don't know, I recently got a smartphone for the first time. My kids have had their own for years, but this is my first real smartphone- Samsung Galaxy Metrix, in case you were wondering). 

*Click to see larger* 

Ahh... good comeback, Disabled Guy... very good comeback! (and he could do it too, you all know it!).