Medicine and War

Anxiety...

I feel like I am being crushed from the inside out, somehow. I know it makes no sense, but that is how it feels. My breath is catching in my throat and chest, every single one... My body feels heavy. Seconds drag into what feels like minutes, and my heart is desperately racing...

I've been in the hospital recently, so I have home health care services that have been coming to my home, which has been a huge stress factor to me. Physical therapy and a nurse checking on me, giving me things to do, until I am fit to actively leave my house to seek services. One golden thing that I had been desperately clinging to was that while I had been in the hospital, the doctor who had previously done surgery on my back, and is the head of nuerosurgery approached me while I was there and we had a conversation.

"We'll get this figured out," he told me with a kind smile. It seemed genuine.

"What do you mean... like surgery or treatment?" I asked for clarification. In the past he had been against surgery until I had absolutely needed it.

"Probably with medication or some other therapy right now. I'm consulting with a medicine specialist right now, I'll see you again tomorrow." He explained to me, but the next day I was discharged. When I asked if the doctor had made any appointments for me, or notes, or anything, the nurse was very annoyed and began to tell me that while I had been in the hospital that they gave me "the same pain medications that you receive while you're at home". She thought I was some junkie or something looking for a fix I suppose... But I wanted to find out more about the meeting that never happened.

Eventually it got to the point where she was offering me "what medicine do you want, so you will leave?" Not only was I personally offended, I was shocked at her lack of professional conduct... So I wrote it off that I wouldn't get any help and left... after politely explaining for the 20th time that I had spoken to the doctor and had just wanted to know about the mysterious course of treatment he had mentioned the night before, but like whatever.

A couple days later I got a call from his office, scheduling an appointment though... very soon. Within a couple weeks, when it often can take months to be seen there! So I was surprised, but happy. They didn't see what it was about though, but when they called to cancel it yesterday they saw it was only to check in because I was in the hospital under his care.......................... a completely pointless appointment. Completely pointless meetings with people who just agitate my back pain and make me feel worse emotionally.

I feel like I want to just find a really nice blade and slice my throat and bleed out somewhere, but I know I don't have a sharp enough blade that could cut deeply enough before I would wimp out.... I saw a psychiatrist, and she was an idiot, too. I knew more about medicine than she did. What is becoming of our medical personnel?

She broke down and began arguing with me and calling me names, like.... someone in middle school would do... it was... sad. I have only seen a couple other grown women do that, my step mother, and ghetto women. I would never have guessed I would ever see a PSYCHIATRIST do that... Because she doesn't know prescribing laws... I mean, just because she is ignorant, doesn't mean that it's my fault lol.

Finally to top everything off, last night on the news Russia is stirring things up in Syria... and NOW the redneck Mexican family I live with cares... NOW the news cares... oh but then a few minutes ago there was another shooting in a college, and that is more important news than impending world war. I mean, yes students dying is terrible... but.... world news affects so many more people.

Lerner Rowe and FML

6.19

Today was a BIG day for me; a lawyer's office was going to call me and help me re-apply for SSDI or SSI. AGAIN. This office was different. It was motivated to really help me! Unfortunately about thirty minutes ago they called, and about fifteen minutes ago I ended the call intears, because it was completely pointless.

A friend asked me what the name 'Neptune Fallen' was from, or if it meant something, once. It is not from anything in particular, but it does mean something to me. Neptune is also known as Pluto, and was seen as the god of the underworld, or even heaven in ancient times. Also sometimes Neptune was viewed as the god of the waters, seas, and rivers. Neptune fallen is literally a depiction of a fallen god, of the heavens and or the seas. Especially today.

-Cops arrive and interrupt me writing.-

Then forty five minutes after they called the cops leave... Lovely. Where was I? Um, yes, the person at the lawyer's office who is helping me is a fucking idiot... I was beginning to feel better, but now I want to throw something hard against concrete and watch it break...

"Your claim is still active, he wants you to know that," the cop told me. No, not the claim from before, but the claim that I haven't even begun... The claim that is upsetting me. The claim that I haven't even gotten a chance to explain in my blog why it is upsetting me, because cops literally burst into my home and interrupted me! Ugh! I suppose he is a kind guy, and means very well, but his intelligence is something that is really lacking from the little I've dealt with him. Reminding me of the woman from Fry's and the cop Jams dealt with.

So I hear a firm knock at the door, and I assume that it is probably someone of the family I rent from, asking something from me, or notifying me of something... and I open the door to, a buncha cops. The cherry on top is that Maria Sr. the crazy Spanish speaking-only grandma is here, along with the army uncle who is nearly stalkerish in how much he follows people online, including me. Hope he likes this post, he isn't bad looking tbh, and is actually pretty cool and fun to hang out with.

I nearly run outside to the front yard, out of earshot of everyone inside, so we can talk there. Even if I had a giant room that could fit dozens inside, with how thin our walls are, I would choose the same spot. Immediately, but delicately, I am asked how am I doing, and I totally bomb it.

"I'm not doing too well," I blurted out, sitting on the grass, picking at some shoots. "I uh, well my back is hurting, I tweaked it trying to rush out here... But I am feeling better emotionally than I was. I had called a crisis line."

"Alright," the cop replied, I assume happy I admitted that I'd called a suicide help line. I wasn't going to try to pretend that I was totally happy for the last few hours. "Did you tell anyone in the last few hours that you would hurt yourself?"

"Uhhh... yeah on the crisis line, I had pills in my hand, and I was wanting to take them," I answered frankly, glancing nervously up a couple times. "After several minutes I was feeling better and didn't feel like that anymore."

The cop looked almost as if a fish had crawled out of a fish bowl and run away or something. I guess he wasn't used to people just admitting things so plainly. So he asked me more questions like about me hurting myself in the past.

"I used to, a long time ago. You can see scars on my arms, but it's been well over a year since I've actually done it. I might have urges, but I've not actually hurt myself in a long time." I explained.

"Yeah... I can see some of the scars," he glanced at my arms and gestured with a finger at the pale slices intermixed with the slightly darker skin. "When was the last time you did that?"

I scoffed slightly nearly a laugh, "Pff.... I don't even remember it's been so long," I shook my head. "Before I moved here, and I've been here a year."

"Okay," he nodded. I'd been very frank, he seemed to believe me so far, or at least seem to think I was being mostly truthful. My scars obviously are not from days ago, but do look like they could be weeks old I will admit. "Have you ever been to a mental health facility?"

"Like a clinic... or?"

"Like admitted. Have you been to Hillmont?" he asks this. I shudder and the cops notice my reaction. I laugh loudly.

"Yeah, I've been to Hillmont," I answer with a grin, "One of the last times I was there I needed to get my gallbladder out, they were giving me liquid antacid, as soon as I was released I had to rush to Santa Paula for emergency surgery. Hellmont just let it fester inside me. No offense to them, but that wasn't the first time they've injured my physical health. They make me worse than I feel, hehehe." I chuckle and shake my head.

"What about ....?" They mention a place I'd never been.

"Nope, I've never been there... and I was feeling depressed earlier, and I have been feeling down off and on recently. My psychiatrist lowered my dose of one of my meds, I wouldn't be against being admitted to a facility if it weren't Hillmont." I replied.

Again the cops stared at me as if I'd grown a third eyeball or something. I was just being so mellow.

"Heh I bet I could also get a shower, too!" I added with a grin.

"You can't get one here?" the younger male who's been silent asks.

"Uh.... nope," I answer, my voice still friendly, with a smile.

"Why not?" the main officer asks me, his eyes wide.

"I waste water apparently. I'm not supposed to take showers, cause I fall, and I can't take baths cause of our drains, and then I also waste water, but everyone else can bathe...." I explain with a sardonic smile. The officer finally is beginning to get a read on me, that perhaps though I seem mellow that there is more behind it.

"You need to find another place to live." he tells me. "But before that, can I see your cell phone?"

"Sure, no problem... and I've been looking for one."

I go and get my cell phone, while one of the cops watch me, and they are shocked by my messy room. The biggest contention of me living where I do. Before the cops left one of them jokingly laughed to me, "Yeah, and you should probably clean your room," with a kind smile. My landlords claim fire department people and police will fine or issue other things if they see it, but so far cops, paramedics, police chiefs, and more have seen my room in worse states than it currently is messy and are totally chill with it and only have parentaly suggested I should clean it up, with a smile and often a chuckle.

Anyways

The main cop has my cell phone and asks me, "Did you tell anyone that you might kill yourself today?"

"When I was online with the crisis hotline, yeah, I was talking about it. I did send a text insinuating it to my best friend, but other than that no..." I answered and then kind of fell onto my side.

The young man cop immediately reached his hands out towards me in worry, "Are you okay? Do you need a chair?"

"Oh no, I'm fine, well not fine... I hurt, but lying on my left side like this is best. Thank you, though." I reply with a smile. The main cop is looking through my phone and the other cops who are closer to my age are looking at me weird, as if how could I just hand my phone over to a cop? I didn't fight, try to erase things, try to explain things?! Nope, just gave him my phone. He can lol over funny texts between me and Jams.

Finally he asks me, "What did you say to... the crisis team... and to Dustin from the lawyer's?" I realize that he's gone through my texts and call history, and likely might have checked my skype and facebook and internet, too, in just that three minutes. I don't use them much.

"Dustin I admitted that the SSI application was pointless, everything in my life was pointless, I wanted to just give it up, terminate anything that had begun, there was no reason to keep it going. If I begin to receive assistance I will receive a gross amount less for rent and food than I currently get... and I began to cry uncontrollably and I was trying to get off the phone and just end the process of applying again... with the Crisis, I admitted I had a buncha pills I wanted to take, and got talked out of it, by realizing there are programs to help people who have nothing...." Finally the cop said he was going to make a few calls on it, and he walks away.

The younger girl cop asks me something I could tell she was dying to ask, "Do you always dye your hair like that?"

I chuckle, "Um, kind of... It was purple since October, but then I was trying to dye the purple out, and I got this pink." We all laugh at this explanation and then the younger man mentions the bright pink is reminiscent of the 80's, and I recall that I like it a lot because it is similar to Cadance from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

"Can I ask how you hurt your back?" the girl cop asks, her voice polite, but nervous.

"Yeah," I reply. "Back in December 2010 I was in a car accident and got 3 herniations, but then in 2012, this doctor Ashokan herniated on disc from 5mm to a centimeter. That made it so I couldn't walk at all for a long time."

"Oh wow..." she said, her eyes sympathetic.

"Yeah, I deal," I tried to smile encouragingly. This is my life, I can't live for myself. I have to pretend to be okay for other people. Finally the cop with my phone returns with my phone and tells me...

"Yeah Dustin from the lawyer's office wants you to know that your claim is far from being denied, it's still waiting to be approved even," at first my heart jumped before I realized.

"Wait.. you mean the claim, from today?" I ask, confirming the idiocy of trying to comfort me with the cold hard fact that pushed me into the warm comforting arms of the idea of unlife.

"Yes, the one from today," the cop replied. "It might not be a lot of money, but you should look at it like a happy accident."

I have to facepalm, but I don't. "The thing that upset me was that as soon as I get SSI, I won't get food stamps, because it is a California law... and the person helping me with rent will stop that aid, so together my total amount for food and rent will be a fraction of what it is now.... But I have program info to help now so I'll be okay somehow." I lie through my teeth at the end... yet the cold realization dawns on the cop. The person at that office duped him. The girl in the grass who is afraid of her landlords, SSI is going to possibly make it so she can't get food to eat, it might mean death from another mean that isn't suicide, which is why suicide is so tantalizing.

"Well, you seem to be pretty stable. Um, if we took you anywhere it'd be Hillmont, but..." the cop trailed off.

"That'd be worse, thanks for understanding," I finish for him.

"So you won't hurt yourself?" he clarifies.

"No, not on purpose." I answer, "I do hurt my back all the time just trying to walk around though, but it's all accidentally." to which I get the sad smile I was trying to get, while I chuckle, adjusting my pose to ease my back pain.

"Well if you need anything call us."

"Will do, thank you~!" and with that the cops leave.

--
6.20

Oh before they left, they did ask me what I was doing when they arrived, and I explained that I was literally in the middle of blogging, and they asked what about, and what I generally blog about. I told them that I blog about being disabled, and I was writing out my feelings about the idiot at the office I had dealt with.

What I failed to get into real details thus far was what Dustin from the office said to me that crawled under my skin.

The whole reason I had agreed to make a phone appointment with this office to discuss SSI or SSDI again, was because, it was mentioned that I might actually be able to get an amount that would be survivable on. When Dustin spoke with me, though, this became very apparent, not to be so. Dustin was very spoken that I was too old to have any sort of disability insurance.

“You are too old to have any disability insurance,” Dustin told me, as if I was some sort of idiot. His tone of voice was annoyed, like everyone should already know the information he divulged. “You never worked long enough to pay into it. You chose to stop working too early.”

“I’m sorry, I chose?” I repeated to him, a bit stunned. Was he referring the date of the last day of work?! The day that my best friend had to help carry me out of the store because I couldn’t walk unaided?!!

“You also didn’t choose to work full time.” He continued. “Because of your age, you have to have worked full time for five years… and you chose not to.” Dustin said this like a basic statement of facts. Twisting my horrible accident and torturous turn of my life and suffering into some sort of sweet fun flirtatious early life experimentation! Every time I heard him say “choose” or “chose” I felt like a knife was digging deeper into that injury already in the base of my spine.

“I never chose to not work full time,” I corrected him, my tone as polite as I could manage. “I had to work part time due to my physical limitations, as noted by doctors.” I explained clearly.

“Well, because you chose not to work for so long, and not to pay,” he continued to repeat as if he hadn’t heard me, nor read my case file that I have 5 herniated discs!! My spine doesn’t work!!!! What the fuck is wrong with this man?! “You’ll only be qualified for like SSI.”

Which would mean, basically no money, and under 300 a month. Food stamps would be cut off. The person aiding my rent would stop, also. And I would lose my housing, and my food in one swift active swing. I declared I wanted nothing of it, I wanted to give it all up, and he began to call me greedy that of course I was not entitled to a lot of money like ads on tv suggested… and that was never what I wanted. I want money to survive by. Pay rent, purchase food, medication.

This asshole is telling me that I have chosen to voluntarily, able-bodily-not-worked for most of my adult life, decided all of a sudden I am now disabled and want a lot of money and am now complaining that I can’t get a lot, and supposedly I guess all those injuries and issues pre 2014 do not exist, but he can begin to get me 200 dollars a month starting 2015, and that WILL be enough to live by, even in southern California. BECAUSE DUSTIN says so… Even if there are no places that cheap, nor places where I can find enough food for free even if I can find safe housing.

Thank you Dustin, even if I go to the social security office myself, you’ve made me look like an idiot.

Seclusion from PTSD

So I have been sequestering myself in my room since I got the backhanded snide comments from the father of the family that I live with, accusing that I am choosing not to pick up my room due to laziness and not medical reasons that doctors are legitimately getting angry at me for breaking... I keep going to the E.R. because I am breaking the rules that the doctors have been setting. I am lifting too much weight, moving too much, doing things that hurt and not stopping because I keep thinking that I need to please the new people who have come into my lives.

While I was sitting in the ER alone, I was feeling miserable. Before I had gone I had made sure to call my back doctor's office and get confirmation that I should be going, and I was told to go... But, the doctor seemed to think that there was no reason for me to be there. At least he wasn't like the brilliant genius doctor who said "there's no reason to expose you to more radiation with an MRI." I was very glad I left minutes later, an MRI stands for magnetic resonance imaging... nothing radioactive about it.

One thing that caused me issues, and often does, is they wanted me to pee on demand. Through an ultrasound they saw that my bladder had a decent amount of urine in it. Can other people just pee on demand like if they were told to stick their tongue out or cough? I mean, I can't pee unless I either have to pee, or it happens out of my control. But doctors and nurses always get upset and annoyed at me when I tell them that I cannot pee on demand and that I will have to have to get an urge and even then it might not come.

I was hostilely told "Well just try!" by a nurse, and handed a bed pan. It dug deeply into my flesh and I tried forcing my muscles as hard as I could, but nothing was going anywhere. I tried pressing on my bladder, nothing. I had four more little cups of water, and no to no effect. But as I was lying there alone in the hospital, with that bed pan beneath me, I was thinking of some of my pet peeves about peeing...

I can only do it in a toilet, and I can only do it absolutely alone. In ladies bathrooms I often have to wait a long time, or at least until it is very empty before I can go... then suddenly the memories of why I had this huge avoidance of urinating outside of restrooms in isolation flooded back to me and I began to cry out from more than just the physical pain that I was in.

How can I tell doctors that I can't force myself to urinate because it is part of my really screwed up PTSD from when I was a kid? 

As a kid before I realized what molestation was, and not just something that I didn't like and was a secret, I could go piss in the woods, or even on the side of the road on long road trips if it had to happen, hehe.

There is so much in my life that my past abuses have affected me in how I am today that I don't even realize and cannot identify, let alone begin to work on, that it hurts so much. But beginning to identify it, lets me begin to work on it. Once I stopped crying, I was able to get a wheelchair and finally pee for those damn doctors.

END SAFE BLOG HERE

but there is more to that night that affected me

----WARNING THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS MENTION OF CHILDHOOD SEX ABUSE---

So there were 2 culprits who affected my bathroom behaviors and feelings. But the first one and predominate one, she was a close neighbor. She was a girl, so when she'd ask me to come in the bathroom with her, it didn't seem that weird at first... but the things that she began to say and talk about while there I didn't like.

She also had terrible games... house was one of them. I loved to play house as a kid! But not with Lizzy. She'd always make me the wife. Every kid knows the fun part of house is like the day. A job, pretend eating, pretend shopping, and dressing up... But Lizzy being older than me, she'd guide the day... She always brought nighttime so soon, which I didn't like, because she would never let me be the husband.

We had to undress for bed, of course, cause we were playing realistically... and she wanted to play more like real. And at the tender age of 5, with her finger, she got over me, and pretended to be a husband and showed me what they did.

Lizzy would never talk to my sister again, they were best friends, and then my sister would hate me forever, if I ever told anyone... and besides we were just playing... why would I need to tell anyone? My sister was always envious when the three of us played and Lizzy wanted to go and play house alone with just me... her eyes felt like daggers in my back, the jealousy, but I didn't want to go.

She's also play doctor, which started off completely normal... but turned into like a gynecological exam... When a neighbor girl who was my age moved in later, I was so over-joyed, I had an excuse not to be near Lizzy, ever again.

Yet as I was sitting in the hospital trying my damnedest to pee in a plastic tub while I heard all these voices around me, I heard a young girl, Lizzy's voice, and the things that she would say to me, want to do to me.... and the nightmares began again.

Other things in my life, other people, other events too... it's driving me back to old habits, that I want to self-mutilate, I'm walking on a razor's edge. Maybe I need to move.

Lose 25lbs N 30 days/ 2 Clean Or Not?

"A messy home shows the sign of the characters who live there, you should see the characters that live here!"

Saw that sign out in the living room of house that I rent a room of, and I broke down.

So yesterday, I did wind up going to the ER. When it came time for me to get a ride home it was clear I had no ride, but they left me in the waiting room anyway. I called every friend I could imagine before finally calling one who I believe has been trying to avoid me for several reasons.......... I wound up sobbing apologies in the backseat as I was driven home. Especially because he kept stating that he really needed to get home, and it was 10, and I needed something to eat... I asked him if we could swing by a fast food place- no we could not, alright that's fine. I needed the food to take my heaviest pain killer, and I was in agony, which was why I wanted food.

Then I took all the courage I could, between sobs and asked if he could come inside my house and microwave me something that would take under 5 minutes, so he got upset and said he would just take me to a fast food place! And the entire time the girl that... I suppose he likes and she likes him was there, and I could feel the hate from her. 

At the hospital, I went to VCMC and saw Dr. Spier? I think that's how you spell it, anyways he is a great doctor. He ordered an MRI and I got no pain killers before or after, he had ordered a shot for before, but in the confusion of a trauma patient coming in, it was lost and forgotten. MRIs for me are very painful-my lower back is where the injury and pain stem from and lying on your back on a hard surface and remaining still for a long period of time puts a lot of pressure right on that hurt spot, so they are agonizing for me. After the MRI I was a quivering pile of pain, and he told me I could take more than the directions indicated for a day or two of my own pain meds, they would give me none-so I got some water and took what I could. ...Oh, and I should actually TAKE my pain medications when I am in pain... I don't take them enough.

I come to the hospital with bottles filled nearly a month ago, and some of them are nearly untouched. (Oh the first nurse I saw, she totally did NOT believe that I hadn't taken any pain medications yet that day, she was like, 'yeah, right, you lying whore,' in her stare.) But when the doctor came he knew me and knew I could be trusted, I explained I didn't want any contraindications. Which is a good valid reason not to go chugging on medications... and I don't take them often because you build tolerance... but... I just don't take them when I need to.

I've lost 20/25lbs for sure, the hospital's scale is accurate if I trust it to the crappy cheap one I have here. I was told the weight loss should not be affecting my back at all. If anything I did this to myself.

Trying to organize the things in my room. It looks like a storage locker right now. Why? Because on the 30th of last month my room was clean and we needed to clear the storage locker-- so it went into my bedroom. So far no one has come to help me sort things, so I keep trying to do it on my own and hurting myself badly.

I shouldn't be lifting even 10lbs the doctor who works with my back surgeon told me. He was shocked when I told him what I had been doing all because people were saying such cruel things to me about the state of my room. I throw my trash out. I take care of dishes in a timely enough manner. My room is more "clean" than many completely uncluttered rooms that I have seen. 

What got to me really bad was a close friend saying more than once that he was going to bring garbage bags, yes plural, to help me clean. As if I am living among refuse and I am just too lazy to throw it out. The first time he said it, I had to bite my tongue and hold back tears, and keep myself from yelling that I don't live in a #&&$^'in trash pile. I am essentially living among unsorted boxes of items that I don't want, I want, or maybe have been damaged and might should be thrown out- but are not garbage exactly! But what is worse is he has not been the first to say this, but he was the person closest to me to say this. 

If it were all trash it would be no freaking issue. I could easily throw trash away piece by piece!!! But I can't move a 20lbs. box that has clothing to a place that I can sort through the clothes and see what I should donate or keep without hurting myself, but I do it anyway, then I can't go thru the box because I am hurt so badly.

Another problem aside from the pain that got worse, is where it went. For nearly this entire time I would draw like a tree branching out to the right, and a little to the left, and down my spine and legs.. but now there is an identical branch on the left.... and my spine keeps 'popping' like joints do, all the time, and often it is painful. Even slightest of movements can cause my spine to shift.


----WARNING THE FOLLOWING DISCUSSES INCONTINENCE---- 
------------------will make note when safe----------------


So pain in a new area, and then something else I was suffering from for the last 13 days, incontinence. But for the last 3, it's been serious. For 10 days it was more a slip here and there, but then Tuesday it would occasionally just... leak out of me... then yesterday it was pouring out of me, I kept changing my Depends so often, it was disgusting and hard to keep clean, and I kept falling, then eventually I was in too much pain and too weak to get up. Every little motion seemed to allow more fecal matter to fall out of my body.

Bowel incontinence is usually way more tame than what has been happening to me in the last three days. It is more often what I was suffering for 10 days, a slip here are there. You mean to flatulate and something comes out, or you are leaky. But now, it is uncontrollable and completely unpredictable. So the doctor suggested, laxatives! Yes, laxatives. Take them three times a day and sit on the toilet for as long as it takes for an attack to come on, until it becomes a routine.

I must say, that the is last thing that I would have ever guess could help incontinence.

-------------done-------------------------

So the pain in the new area of my body, and that I was suffering from incontinence for some time, it was recommended that I now use laxatives. Now I have already lost 20 or 25 lbs. in the last month... now I am wondering if I use laxatives to try to control my bowels, will this lead to even more weight loss? I even mentioned the weight loss, and he suggested that it might even add to further loss... 



Am I really that fat?

--The new father I live with- how he's like my own father--



The family that I live with, the father Tony, he makes me feel that way. I am fat and lazy. He praises his eldest daughter Christina SO much. "Look how fit she is." 'Look how well she does in school." "Look how well she does in work." "Look how well she does, being in music videos!"

It all goes back to that, I must be lazy because I don't work... because I hurt... Well I don't go out with friends, yet I have no friends around here to go out with! Also that I am so fat, I always hear it, I am aware that I am fat, that I am a huge ugly disgusting fat cow, but it is not because I am lazy!

I have attempted many times to eat just below my basic metabolic rate (before injured) and even way below it, and lost not even a lb. But now, I am on levothyroxin, it turned out my thyroid was not working properly, and in a month I have lost more weight than I have in 8 years of diets and literal starving myself to try to lose weight. I know how it feels to have eaten so little food you pass out, faint, stumble, fall, be unable to see properly, lose menses, and still not lose a pound.

But my muscles ached from being worked so hard with exercise... over a hundred reps. I counted every calorie that entered my body. I had a tictac, it went in my food journal. Unlike all the asshole nurses and doctors who never believed me when I said that I had kept food journals before. They think just because a person is overweight or fat, that they are idiots, they do not know what they are talking about, and they are lying when they are talking about anything. But, if I had gum, it went down, unless it was 0 calories on the pack... but I still wrote it down... and still not a pound, lol.

Hey, it is kind of like with my medication. I won't even remember where my pain meds will be, but I mention that it is prescribed, and the doctor will not believe that I haven't taken that day, let alone in several days. ...and I still don't know where the bottle is.

Years ago, my father would call me fat and lazy, too. I would starve myself, exercise as hard as I could, and it did nothing... until of all people, my step mother mentioned to a doctor that she had noticed I didn't touch much of my dinners sometimes. They checked my blood and my thyroid was not working. Soon I lost a lot of weight, and began growing several inches, too. But my father still saw me as lazy, even though I did everything that he asked of me.

I do everything that I can possibly do. I keep trying to do things in the house to clean up. Doing the dishes that everyone else leaves behind, until I am trembling from horrible pain, and I collapse on the floor and thank God that no one is home to see me.

Also Tony assumes that I have had no schooling either..... I worked in a pharmacy before I was injured, and I have a job guaranteed if I were to be better tomorrow. I am a very good pharmacy technician, it is something that I like doing, and I do well. But I took classes in high school!

How many other people work full time, are models, are in music videos, and are in school?? It is not fair to compare... And then

"A messy home shows the sign of the characters who live there, you should see the characters that live here!"

is where I can see when I come home from the hospital.

Tony, the father of the family I live with, he often mentioned that his mother is a hoarder so he is used to seeing messy rooms like mine. Oh, and his mother, she always blames that her house is messy because no one will come and help her. That is the only reason that she has a hoarder house, is because no one comes to help her clean up... which he began mentioning after the storage locker got emptied and Nathan, my best friend stopped coming over and organizing the boxes and items. We just left everything as is, because he was tired, and he hasn't returned to help me fix them.

So I keep saying that I need someone to help me, I am waiting for help again, like I had had before. My room was like this several times before, then clean, then like this, and then clean, several consecutive times back and forth. It costs Nathan a lot of gas to come out here though, and no one else so easily knows me as well as he does (and is as tall and strong) so he's best to help me.

But Tony essentially is pushing in my face that I am using the excuse that I don't have someone to help me as a reason to keep my room like a storage locker. I hate my room like this, and now after seeing that placard sign with that written on it... I don't even want to leave my room, leave my door unlocked, or leave my door open at all.

When I came to this house, they said that they wanted someone who would NOT be closed up in their room all the time. I often like going into the living room and joining the family for functions... but now I feel very driven away. Tony seems much like my own father, manipulative and completely blinded by his own views.

The neurosurgeon who works with mine for my back, he said I shouldn't be lifting more than 10 lbs and he was disturbed when I told him all of what I just wrote above... that I felt pretty much blackmailed into having to try to clean up my room, lifting boxes and items that weigh way more than 20lbs let alone 10lbs lol... ....he was not amuse though, he was very serious that I should STOP lifting anything immediately. So now I have no idea what to do, because I saw that sign, it is very clear that father wants me to clean, but my back surgeon wants me not to! 

If only I had the guts to show him....

Limitations

Sunday I walked very far. I was looking for my phone, so I got out of my wheelchair and began to scour the sidewalk for it until I finally collapsed from pain and weakness in my legs. Monday and Tuesday (yesterday) left me in my room in so much pain, that I just wanted to be left alone.

I had information on my phone that was extremely important to me. Details of how my seizures felt, immediately after they occurred, and so much more. Oh, and my retainer has gone missing. So I am afraid that my teeth might become crooked like my sisters.

Everyone in my life who is older than me keeps harassing me about my situation, and I finally broke. People who are even my age are at my throat about how I live; they all assume that I am lazy and wasting all of my time doing nothing at all, because I am using my injury as an excuse to take a very extended vacation.

My back has never been causing the sheer amount of agony that is causing me now. Often every step that I take makes me want to cry out in pain.

"Why don't you go back to school?"
"My niece studied something about pharmacy and she works at Walgreens now."
"You could take classes online."
"You don't have to take many classes."

I took one class a little over a year ago now. I missed many days because my back hurt so much from just attending the class for a couple hours twice weekly... Also the pain from sitting up to study and do my homework. I finally had to drop out right at the end because the pain was too much, it overtook me. Now I am maybe in four times that sort of pain, when I try to do the simplest of things like draw a bath.

Also, I studied to work at a pharmacy, too. Why does everyone assume I have no education? I took three years of college level classes during high school! My English teacher began teaching at my highschool because the college she was working at told her she needed to make her class easier, so she quit and came to teach the AP class at my high school where she could make it even harder! (I am completely serious, not making this up.)

Also with the online classes, again I come into the issue of having to sit up straight for me to really draw attention. I can't be lying down to type... or writing. I am very hands on, I do better with books and papers... but, when I was doing so much better I couldn't even handle one class.

Yet, even if I explain all of this, I hear them asking me again about this.

I can blog because I can type upwards of 50 wpm, and this sort of writing flows from me. It is not something that I have to give much fore-thought. I think and my fingers type my thoughts.

I miss my work so much. I miss school even more. What I wouldn't give to have a few days in a lab with petri dishes and growing cultures and having to figure out what they were. That would be so much fun! ...Yeah, I might have an odd sort of idea of fun.

It all sort of reminds me of how the doctors treated about my weight. I've lost 25 lbs. so far, so maybe if I run into any new doctors they might react differently to me. People are so quick to make judgments and assumptions. Which reminds me that I heard someone use similar words like what I just said to her, and she reused them for good use. It makes me so happy that I am at least still not limited to being unable to help some.

Waiting to go to some big hospital in L.A. is really killing me. In the wait, everyone is going for my throat of what I am waiting for, and the only answer I can supply is I am waiting on the wait.... The barbs that have sunk in so deeply that I should be doing so many things that I am just not physically capable of have pushed me to injure myself.

My room is overfilled and unorganized with how things are placed, but a majority of things are too heavy for me to lift without injury, but I keep working on it anyway. So now I am sitting on my bed barely able to walk, and having to wear Depends for the last two days... but I only pushed myself because the people around me voiced the idea that I was using the excuse that I needed a person to help me as a reason that I wasn't doing it. Now I can't feel my legs... is that a better excuse?

I know that I should call 911, I was told when my legs go numb and everything gets this bad to do that, but I don't see the point in it anymore. I am just going to sit here in my pain until the feeling returns. Could be an hour, could be a day, who knows, but no one really cares much, except the one person subscribed to this blog.

Rookee's Bar: Nightlife Disabled

So it was some time ago now, but a friend of mine had turned 21 in July, and I had my first chance since the last time a friend had turned 21 to go to a bar/club... So I went.

The place we wound up going to was a place called Rookee's in Ventura, CA. Here is their yelp. As soon as we went to enter I already felt out of my element. There was not a venue fee like the last place I had been, which was a great plus, and the dress code was much more lax, but one of our party who was wearing a plain tee-shirt was turned away, and he had to go back to his car to change shirts.

My purse was taken and inspected, which I understood, and expected, but they took my UN-opened bottle of water, stating that water was free (the other place I had been water had not been free) and I would have to get it inside if I needed it, and made me leave it outside. The other club I had been to before let me keep my bottle, but they only had bottles that they sold inside the club, cause they were higher end. 

[Now THIS is a HUGE thing I now take issue with because when I was in there last night, there were young ghetto young men wearing large plain baggy white tee's and they had bottles of Gatorade and water that they brought with them straight from the outside. They were breaking both the dress code and the liquid policy that had been enforced on my party previously!] 

But that is just the top crumb of ice of the iceberg of this place. OH I will keep linking reviews everytime you see a link to the name.

When I had gone to Rookee's before in July, I had a great time, for most of it. I had a bunch of narcotic medications in my purse, and I asked if it was a problem, perfectly ready to have it run back to the car, and I was told it was no problem, so long as I had my ID. The water was the ONLY issue. Then I was given clearance inside, and waited on a chair for our friend to return with proper attire to join us all.

The front security Rookee's staff actually seemed really nice! (I find that review-if true very hilarious by the way.) When some guy kept talking to me they made sure he wasn't bothering me, and when my friends finally came in they made sure that they were not harassing me, and they were friends, lol. Great, great, outdoor staff. If the rest of the staff were this well organized and kind, this place would be great.

In comparison, when I went last night, on Friday, it seems they upped security some with a light scanning for fake IDs. The man who was checking mine was also scratching it all over and bending it all around nearly trying to break it, as if he were sure I was under-aged... which I guess I shall take that as a compliment? Once I finally retrieved my ID, I offered my bag to be checked, but I was waved through and shrugged it off. I did take some prescription medication within 20 minutes of my arrival both times I came there.In July, and last night in September.

So the taking of my water bottle pissed me off because I like having my own personal water when being in places like bars, but I got over it quick, although with what happened I wish I hadn't. And the whole ID scrutiny thing from last night was just amusing.

Last night I checked around, didn't see much going on, so I plopped down on a seat and began to talk with my friend. He ordered me a screwdriver. LAST time I am going to order a screwdriver at Rookee's without talking to the bartender myself. That review might be old, but... oh here! Another review that is newer saying the same thing. Like watered down, bottom shelf, charged like top shelf, complete crap... ugh, it was rather disgusting, and I usually like screwdrivers a lot, that is the only reason I usually drink them! Or else because someone else paid for them, and I feel obligated to. Thank god for the thin slice of orange that was on the glass, it was like sip, orange suck, sip, orange suck.

But we were talking for quite a while, hours.

Now there is something that has been plaguing me for some time, many many months... Actually years now. Most likely due to my thyroid. I randomly can randomly start to nod off like completely in the middle of being completely aware and awake, because the doctors are still working on getting my thyroid levels normalized.

I've fallen asleep in the middle of eating, like literally food in mouth, french fries for example. I was falling asleep trying to eat pumpkin pie and kept vehemently arguing with my friend for him to not take it away because I was eating the damned thing, unaware that I kept falling asleep. Playing the computer. Suddenly I am dead in World of Warcraft. Suddenly the movie I was watching on Netflix is over and I am very confused.

Well since I was put on my thyroid medication about three weeks ago now, I have lost weight and these incidents have decreased dramatically, but they still occur some.

I guess at some point that happened to me while I was talking to Nathan. All I really need to do it be told, pop a caffeine pill, shake myself and then I am good. He didn't tell me that I was losing time, instead a bouncer came over and demanded to me that I needed to leave and I needed to leave NOW.

Well I live in a civilized society. This Rookee's like's to purport itself as a higher end place, especially with how much it charges for it's #$^ing drinks... So when I asked why I was being told I needed to leave, of course the answer I received was "You have to leave now!"

Um... yes, you just said that dude... could I get a reason. 

Now, this had actually happened to me the first time I went to Rookee's back in July. I was thrown out after on the dance floor I was having a great time until this guy came up and started to dance with me. First it seemed fun, funny, but then he was like all over me, and I kept trying to move away, but I was backed into a wall! I was beginning to panic and then, I saw security! My heart fluttered, I was thinking, oh my god I am saved!!!

"You both need to go, NOW!"

I was shocked, scared, and surprised as to why I needed to go. I had been trying to get away from this guy who had been... dancing me up? I guess that would be the best way to phrase it, but there were two bouncers there. One had grabbed him, and the other guy gently grabbed my arm, my good arm, and my cane clattered to the floor and I nearly fell down from the sudden change of momentum and lack of support.

I am hoping that he hadn't realized that I actually had had a cane, and he let go and picked it up and handed it to me and he gave me a minute to set my purse on my shoulder straight, and offered his arm for me to take with my free hand, so I could use my cane, and once we got out off the dance floor I paused and held him back and pleaded if I could hang back away from the man who had been danced practically on me! I had been trying to get away from him. Also why was I being asked to leave? I wasn't trying to break any rules... I was just having fun dancing and didn't know what to do when that guy got... so aggressive.

He told me it wasn't how that guy was dancing on me, it was because I was obviously drunk.

I had had no alcohol the entire time that I had been there.

I agreed to leave once I saw the man leave, and he told me that he would bring me the manager to speak to because I hadn't had any alcohol to bring, the bouncer understanding my anxiety about the situation, and I walked steadily, with my cane, out the door to the outside where to my chagrine the man was outside the line of the outside portion of the bar. The outside bouncers said I could stay outside behind them until he departed, and they were very nice. They also told me that no manager was going to come. Now that I was outside the doors, that was it.

I was infuriated. Once my friends had come out, I was encouraging them to stay, but they didn't want to on behalf. I kept trying to get attention of the staff inside but was continually ignored, no manager would speak to me because I was a girl drunk off of the cup of water I had drunk... that someone drugged.

Somewhere between my friend's friend's friend fetching it, something got into it, and it reacted badly with something else I took. I was a tad unsteady on the dancefloor, I had been dancing without my cane for a while, when the bouncer took me, I had been using my cane again, I had needed my cane to steady myself. But after yelling that I wanted a manager for around 45 minutes of getting kicked out, waiting outside, pacing outside, and such, whatever was in the water ....or did ...a staff gave me some water too....

When I was pulled off the floor a staff gave me water...
Well regardless, within 45 minutes I went from I just needed my cane to steady myself to suddenly I felt very impaired. I'd never in my life been like that. Not even when I'd had percocet, been given too high a dose of Dilaudid at the hospital, this was something even worse than that.... it was even worse than when I had OD'd on medication and alcohol somehow...how was that possible? It must have been something new. It took two people to literally walk me into my room that night... All cause they wouldn't let me have my water bottle, but of course ghetto guys can bring theirs in. I should have gone to the hospital, gotten blood drawn and held the club liable.

Well last night I go in I actually did have an alcoholic beverage, sometime around 10:30, maybe 11. We sat down and we had a lot to catch up on. We haven't seen one another in quite some time. Thankfully when he got us water it tasted a lot better than the water I remember having before, and I guess I started to drop off at around 12:30 or 45, but because I am completely unaware that it is happening unless I see a clock or some other way to really gauge time, I had no idea it was happening... until- "YOU- YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!"

So we are back at this part of my story about last night. It had been hours since I'd consumed any alcohol but whilst talking to Nathan occasionally I would close my eyes for a few moments, but still work my mouth speaking to him. My contacts getting dry. I could barely see the man now adressing me, so I went into my purse to get my contact solution, knocking out several prescriptions in the process to try to rewet my eyes as I adressed him as politely as I could in the loud environment. Nathan, my friend, was sitting to my right, blocking my immediate way to stand and leave, and the bouncer was addressing me from right behind me. "Excuse me, I'm sorry, I don't know what rule I broke, why do I have to leave? Are you closing?"

Nathan was already trying to dissaude me from asking the man the why, and getting me to go, but I knew from experience once I left, that there would be no discussion. So as I rewet my eyes and I could see much clearer, the man simply puffed his chest bigger as if to appear more threatening and said, "NO. YOU JUST HAVE TO LEAVE NOW!"

Then he spotted the prescription medications that were in my purse and yelled at me in an even louder and almost accusatory voice, "WHAT ARE THOSE?! HOW DID YOU GET THOSE IN HERE?!!"

"Those are my prescription medications for medical conditions I have. I offered my purse to be ch--" I was going to say I offered my purse to be checked at the door, but I was waved through, so I figured that I was fine. I had been here just a couple months ago with less prescriptions in my purse, and it had been no problem, the only problem that I had been told of was bringing in bottled water.

"YOU CAN'T HAVE THOSE IN HERE!!!" he screamed at me, moving closer to my face. I am sure that if I was a man, he would have grabbed my color... maybe if I had been wearing a color he would have. Thankfully I had a low cut tank top that offered little to be grabbed and brought to his face so I was able to back away from the angry scary man.

"I've been here before and it wasn't a problem!" I retorted, trying to regain some control, because he is just some bouncer. "I need to speak to your manager."

"NO! You need to get out of here now!!!" He yelled at me, moving up the steps that were towards Nathan and Nathan moved out of his way leaving me with my cane and my purse and items on the table..

"I am willing to leave, but I still need to speak to a manager." I again requested as I meticulously, but quickly and deftly, put everything away. Completely ready to walk away from the booth I did not get out.

"YOU need to GO now!" the man yelled at me in frustration as if I could not get it wrapped around my head that I needed to be gone with. At this point I wanted to see a managerial staff or be forced out at this point, or hear a better reason as to why I was being asked to leave....like... any reason?

"I still haven't been told the reason you are removing me." I stated calmly. This man, he appeared like every step I was withholding from him simply to piss him off, but I was merely trying to be treated like a decent human being and not some animal.

Another staff member comes up and notifies me that despite my articulate questioning of why I am being asked to leave, "You are clearly intoxicated, that's why you have to go!"

"I'm intoxicated?" I asked this new person, incredulously not believing their gall. "I had a single drink hours ago."

"We saw all the prescriptions that were in your purse and you are obviously intoxicated." The man smartly replied. I nodded to him, agreeing that in his eyes, well yes, this very well could seem like I was under the influence or high, intoxicated being the completely wrong term and the business having no legal right to throw me out on those grounds of be being affected of side affects of my own prescription medication, but alright, I won't argue pharmacology, and my specific issues. "I saw you doze off a couple times, you are under something."

So I sighed, stood up steadily with no waver, but did use my cane as my back was hurting, rubbed it a moment, apologizing asking if I could have a second before I headed towards the door. "I actually have a hormone issue that causes me to randomly fall asleep at times, but I'm working on treating that, but I will assume that such medical conditions and pharmacology are above your expertise, sir," I said, not sure if it was loud enough for him to hear. Turns out he was the manager.

He told me that if I were to come again that prescriptions would be checked in the front like with the coats, which actually would be something that'd put my mind at ease-- I wouldn't feel like I have to guard them. Grab a couple for a night, and that's it. But still, my medical issues, that I would be thrown out again if I came alone... drugged? What if I hadn't had friends...?

Within the hour I was out of it after being drugged by that simple water back in April, thank you bouncers for catching the drugged girl and saying she was drunk and throwing her ass out in the street.

Oh and the symptoms I was displaying when I was "clearly intoxicated" with my friend Nathan, sometimes when I have short missing periods of times like that is when I might have a seizure. Is this establishment going to be a place that you are only going to be allowed to go if you are perfectly healthy, able-bodied, and not currently on any medication, and if you get drugged- heh- good luck- they will put you on the street so the person who drugged you can try to get you in their car.

I mean, I like the music, I like the scene... but how do you change 80% of the staff, and the low quality liquor. It seems like they are bottom welling a lot.


I hope I will be able to update this someday and say that my mind has been changed.

If anyone knows of fun places in Ventura that you can dance, enjoy nice music house, trance, even metal, I am always open to hear about it.

July 3rd and 4th...

So I got records of what the demon doctor Ashokan did to me on March 18th, proudly stating the reason I was pulling the records was that I was suing him. When I asked my friend where his new office was, he said he didn't know where it was. Googling it, 300 miles away. Sounds like someone was running from something.

It took every ounce of strength to speak over the phone to a VCMC patient's rights representative about how I was assaulted by a nurse with an object. So being in Ventura yesterday and going to Hillmont, which shares parking and food facilities with VCMC.

I needed to address the atrocious treatment that I had received during some time I had spent at Hillmont. For further details about the stay see my other blog. I arrived with my friend and I was sort of bewildered being in the front of the building and finally a man, Dr. Fire asked if he could help.

"I need to speak to someone high up about the abhorrent time I had while I spent time at Hillmont," I explained.

"Oh, well that would be me," he replied, somewhat surprised and alarmed.

We went and sit down and he took notes of everything I said. The nurses and the names, what they did, how they may have set back my healing process back for months... He was very pro-patient and explained that he was new to over-seeing the facility. I explained to him that I was happy to hear that he wanted to make changes...

If I ever was suicidal in the future, I'd rather off myself than go back to Hellmont based on how I was treated.

He was disturbed that a fully licensed nurse was yelling at me not to move, or else I would not get my medication, because the blood pressure machine was not working on my right arm, dangling, as I stood in front of her, very still. (For those unaware, even nursing assistants are taught, usually the left arm should be used, patient is sat down, the arm is around chest level, and that is how you take blood pressure.) But, she kept screaming at me. I just kept apologizing that I was doing my best not to move, instead of correcting her medical negligence like perhaps I should have.

Dr. Fire said that me coming forward with everything like this, the names, the details, everything, was courageous. That is definitely not an adjective I would ever use to describe myself. He said that for every person that comes forward there are probably 20 more patients who had similarly bad experiences and just never followed through with coming forward.

People like that give me some hope in humanity, that there are still good doctors out there still. That they are not all jaded.

Today on the fourth I woke up and I could feel something wrong, by more not feeling my lower legs well. I am struggling with keeping fecal matter in my bowels while lying down, standing up is even worse, I already had to accidents. Thankfully pantie-liners work in keeping it from making it a mess, but I feel humiliated and depressed. I love the fireworks...

I really wanted to go downtown to Little Tokyo and watch them from the roof, that would have been cool. Instead I am holed up in my room afraid that I may crap my pants at any moment, because I have to actively try not to.

Things happen for a reason... The surgery was supposed to fix all of this! I wish I had a My Little Pony plushie to hug, heh. Or a Mewtwo one. Mewtwo is cool, too.

Just have to keep fighting I suppose.


Oh oh! I forgot, I've also had a lot of items stolen from that place too...