Day 6

Day 6:
I didn’t go to many groups because various people were taking me into the meeting room to ask questions and stuff. First it was the financial counsellor. I was way over emotional and cried off and on all day, so I cried when she
Introduced herself. So silly. She asked me about my finances. I dried it up and answered the questions. I was so worried about a big hospital bill. I should have known it wouldn’t cost anything , because they waived the charges for my cholesystectomy, and that was when I had a good job and insurance. She helped me apply for Medicaid for both my husband and Me. ¬†The kids already had it. Now we all have Kancare and it is such a relief! A social worker talked with me about my supports at home. I told her I have my husband and kids for emotional support, and
I own my home and vehicles (thank God). I’m just really worried about income, and what will happen when my savings run out. We talked about disability, and that the hospitalization would help my case. I met the Dr., who seemed really gung-ho on keeping me there for a while.ūüėě He had an APRN with him. When discussing my medication, they questioned the wisdom of combining the gabapentin with lamotrigine, as they serve similar functions. He started me on seroquel for sleep. That evening, I was sitting in the day room with my roommate, Tweak, and some dude I didn’t know. Tweak was again regaling us with tales of meth manufacture. The guy I didn’t know started asking questions about the science behind the various methods of manufacture. I couldn’t help it. I joined in on the inquest, and we all had a good laugh. I took my seroquel that night. It had no effect.

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Day 5

My thinking was still fuzzy, and my memories of MICU only come to me in pieces. I remember hospital staff sticking papers in my face, saying I needed to sign myself into the psych facility, or they would just put a hold on me. Because I was on suicide watch, I always had a sitter. One sitter took all kinds of attitude with me and said, “you did this to yourself”. Duh! I told her to get the fuck out, and that while what she said was factually correct, it was not what I needed to hear. They got me a different sitter. Mother told me to be nice. I said I’m always nice until someone gives me a reason not to be. Mother asked if that was a threat (toward the sitter). I don’t understand why she would think that. I was merely stating a fact. See, people always assume the worst of me, especially my family. Sure I have an attitude problem. That tends to be the case when a small child is ostracized for thinking differently and having anxiety attacks. I don’t think it makes me a bad person, does it? Anyway, I signed the fucking papers. Then we waited for a room to become available, but not for long. So I was transported to the Good Shepherd. I was given all the paperwork, introduced to my roommate, and given time to read everything. I got there around supper time, so they brought me food in my room. Ugh. How does one make corn taste bad? I figured I must have been tricked into going to fat camp. I didn’t eat until mother came to visit and harassed me about it until I ate. I pretty much just ate fruit and salads. Didn’t even lose any weight, either. Basically, I was responsible for making a plan for when I went home, which they referred to as my “ticket out”. Naturally I finished it right away. Still stayed for three days. There was a tweaker in the day room who was kind of wound up and hyper. The guy actually referred to himself as “Tweak”. I didn’t sleep at all that night. Around midnight, there was a commotion outside my door. I just stayed in bed. My roommate, who was also a nurse, cracked the door to look, turned around and said, “Tweak’s getting tased!”

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The Gallbladder Incident

On Wednesday, I spent the first part of the day flopping around in bed whining. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but this was unbearable. Sharp visceral pain in the right upper quadrant of my abdomen, radiating intensely around my back. I was resistant to going to ER, as it had not done any good during subsequent attacks, which I’m pretty sure resulted from Choleolithiasis. I reluctantly drove myself to the ER of our rural county’s hospital. They were very busy, but did not take long to ultrasound me. I saw three large choleoliths lined up, evenly spaced, in a neat row. I asked the tech if those were liths (I’m not very good at reading radiology) to which she replied,”those are gallstones”. Ok. “Triplets.” Mazel Tov! After quite a while, they recommended I go to St. Francis(my second favorite Saint) in Wichita, and gave me the option of “being driven” or EMS. So I drove myself to Wichita, husband in tow.
While in the ER, I texted my mom to let her know what was going on. She insisted on going to be with me so she can ask a million questions and look worried.
I went to St. Francis. It wasn’t long before my parents arrived. We actually had a nice visit. It is so much easier to talk to Mom when I’m medicated. They didn’t stay too long, either.
They did another ultrasound, then an MRI, then dismissed me with no activity restrictions and a script for oxycodone.
I have a consult on Monday, and, hopefully, will have the gallbladder removed before Thanksgiving.

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Complicated Relationships with Women

So, I got to thinking too much today about my complicated relationships with women. I started crying, cathartically, and told my husband stories about my upbringing in detail. My mother is OCD, but there’s nothing wrong with her. Just ask her. Once again this is not blame or indictment, just my truth. My sister is my mother’s daughter. I am my father’s. My sister and mother kind of organized the lives of everyone in the household. They are pushy, but I have some understanding of why they feel they have to be.
When I was sixteen, I was a junior in high school. My brother had just started getting serious with a new girlfriend, now his wife. My sister had just graduated college and got a teaching job in my school. Both siblings are eight years older than me, both very high functioning socially, so I never quite measured up.
I had a huge crush on a teacher. On graduation day, I was playing “Pomp and Circumstance” in the band. My sister was sitting in the bleachers flirting with my crush. I asked my friends if they noticed. They said,”there’s nothing going on, you’re crazy.” After the ceremony, I cornered my crush and stated that I was feeling very insecure because of his attitudes toward women. “Wonderwall” was playing in the background. I’m not stupid. I understood that it was not possible for me to have a relationship with the man at that time. I didn’t expect to have a relationship with him. I just wanted people to respect my feelings. Being the crazy stalker I was, I drove by his house one night, and my sisters car was there…all night. Because I speak my heart, I let my dissatisfaction be known. My mother and the teacher condescended to me saying, “you can’t really have a relationship.” I knew that. That wasn’t the point. The point was that my family was hurting me, and seemed to disregard my feelings.
I felt that I was building a good relationship with my future sister-in-law, and poured my heart out to her, leaving out the detail that the man in question was my teacher. A lie of omission which I regret. Shortly thereafter, my brother’s girlfriend became distant from me in favor of my cousin (whom I also have a complicated relationship with, but that’s a whole ‘nother story).
Things deteriorated from there, mostly because of the string of abusive relationships I got myself into. A few years later, one such abusive boyfriend convinced me to miss my sister’s wedding because she would not pay me the respect of asking me to be a bridesmaid (she wanted me to read a poem instead).
I can’t really talk to them about it. But today I let go. I hereby forgive the women in my life and myself for lying and manipulating.

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What had happened was…

So, now that it’s settled, I’ll regale you with my latest accident story. ¬†I was heading home from work just after 2300. ¬†Whilst entering the toll plaza to access the turnpike, in the K-tag lane, going the speed limit, I noticed a state trooper’s SUV heading directly toward my car a split second before impact. ¬†As I attempted to correct and get stopped, the SUV struck my drivers side door. ¬†The trooper had been pulling a U-turn from the other side of the toll plaza. ¬†From what I can gather, he thought I had just backed out of the parking lot. ¬†Now that is truly nuckin’ futs.

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Empathy

http://www.aspietests.org/eq/questions.php?show=7aa7802b9285&locale=en_GB

Above is my empathy quotient. ¬†The last neuropsychologist I saw believed I was not on the spectrum because I am capable of empathy. ¬†I suggested to him that perhaps it wasn’t an issue with feeling empathy, so much as expressing it. ¬†Then I asked, “If you don’t feel empathy, doesn’t that just make you a sociopath?” ¬†He said that sociopaths choose not to empathize, and Autists simply can’t empathize. ¬†That was very confusing to me.

I feel that he was close to getting it, but didn’t quite. ¬†I can only speak for myself and my observations. ¬†I know I am an empath. ¬†As a younger person, I came off as not really caring about anyone else, but was often described as “sensitive”. ¬†Seems a bit oxymoronic. ¬†I think I had my own feelings, and everyone else’s feelings being received, but wasn’t really able to process it all, so I withdrew. ¬†I believe that part of Autism is being a conduit. ¬†How you learn to process is heavily influenced by environment.

Thoughts?

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A letter to my mom (that I can’t send)

Dear Mom,

I love you.  You are one of the smartest, strongest women I know.  You raised four amazing children, and I wish you could see us all through my eyes. 

Please don’t worry so much about me, and my kids, and the fact that we are poor, and our life is hard. ¬†This too, will pass, as all things do. ¬†I know that you worked so hard to make my life easy, but it’s not supposed to be easy, it’s supposed to be painful and joyful, and it is.

Many people and circumstances have made my life hard and good.  You are one of those people, and so is my husband.  My upbringing was one of those circumstances.  It taught me many things- good, bad, and indifferent.

The good: You taught me that there is more than one way to get there, and that my path is mine to walk. ¬†You didn’t judge me when I embraced the teachings of Buddha. ¬†You lead by example in teaching me to put my family first, and that’s why I’m such a good mom, too. ¬†

The bad: My upbringing taught me to question and judge every thought and feeling I had. ¬†This led me to not trust my instincts. ¬†I had no understanding of people’s motivations for many years. ¬†This led to me being a grifters mark, and, subsequently, destroyed my relationship with you. ¬†I was not properly prepared for the world, and all the predators therein. ¬†Also, I was spoiled with the material, and deprived of acceptance and understanding. ¬†This made my work ethic pretty iffy for a number of years. ¬†I received mixed messages: ¬†Be honest, but not too honest. ¬†Be yourself, but not if yourself is weird. ¬†Be proud of your intelligence, but don’t correct people.

The indifferent: could never talk to you about anything real. ¬†When I was very young, and asked about rape and abortion, you clammed up, and refused to give a real answer. ¬†I learned to see in black & white, because you did not help me navigate the gray areas. ¬†Also, when you asked me what I knew about sex, why I wanted to be dead, and other uncomfortable topics, I clammed up because that’s what we do.

Please understand that this is not about blame. ¬†I am grateful for every lesson you taught me, and understanding about the things you just couldn’t. ¬†How could you prepare me for life, when life didn’t prepare you for me? ¬†You were not prepared for a child and an old soul, crammed into the same body, just trying to figure it all out. ¬†I am an anomaly, but, like everything else, happened for a reason.

Many people would be proud to have me for a daughter, and you should be, too.  I am kind, tough, funny, sincere, and enlightened.

I hope God grants you the serenity to accept the things you cannot change.  This is something I have struggled with, as well.

You will always have my love, gratitude, and admiration.

Love, 

Jen

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