Home insurance is a racket. I’m tempted to go without it for a year because I’ve been paying for home insurance since I was 26 years old, and I have never made a single claim. I’m appalled by their annual increase in premiums, but I fear I’d feel unsafe without it. I’m going to call my broker today to see if I can make some changes in my policy hoping that I can pay less of a premium. I don’t feel like a person, a citizen, anymore, I feel like a financially exploitable income resource for corporations.
I’m sad that I’m in a rather dark place right now. This week has been like no other since the onset of my mental illness. And yesterday was another very challenging day. I have lots of energy in the mornings, and I rise at 5:30, so I have long mornings in which to accomplish domestic tasks. It felt very, very good to get the house in order, all tidied and clean.
At 8:30, I slid into the lovely warm spa on a silent morning, and I soaked my troubles into submission—at least for a while. And then Her Highness and I went for our morning walk, went shopping and visited the clinic, pharmacy and the vet.
The pharmacy did not have my pills. This is when my brain started to go postal. I was not surprised that the pills were not there, but I was surprised by how close to tears I was as I left the store. I exited the store walking very slowly, head down, eyes down, and I felt like crap. Once my shopping was done, it was off to the clinic. There, things went very well. I was expecting an appointment in mid-to-late September, but I got an appointment for yesterday afternoon at 14:00. This is about the growing lump on my heel.
Next was the vet. Things went well there as well. I’m taking Fred in at 15:30. By tackling ‘issues’ like my heel and poor Freddy’s problems, I lesson my stress. Doing something makes me feel better.
Wednesday taught me that if I don’t eat breakfast or lunch, I am not hungry at all during the day. This is my plan for losing weight. In the past, I ate lightly at breakfast and lunch, and I was hungry all the time and all I could think about was food. This fasting all day and only having dinner is easier to take.
I’m heavier than I’ve ever been before. I’m getting too fat for my clothes, and the belly fat may be one reason my back gets sore all the time when I am working. Plus, I just don’t like being this fat, so things must change. I’ve been addicted to sugar, so now, after dinner, I do not eat anything sweet even though I crave it. However, soon I will have one of my own home-grown apples for dessert, fresh off the tree. This is a first in my life, growing apples.
Just before noon, the pharmacy called to say that my drugs had arrived from St. Paul’s. What a relief. I was completely out of pills.
At the clinic, I saw Jennifer, and she is sending me to Nanaimo for an X-ray. She suspects that I have Achillies tendonitis or a bone spur. Both are only correctible with surgery which I won’t have. Jennifer said that surgery is often unsuccessful, so it was an easy decision to make. So now and forever, I will limp and walk slowly. And long walks are out.
While I was waiting to see Jennifer, my cell phone rang. It was a first, and it was kind of thrilling to get it. It was Dwight. Who else? I love every conversation we have. And another thing … I had a slight seizure in Jennifer’s office and that got us talking about my mental health, and I told her about how visitors cause me to have seizures all the time. She said, in no uncertain terms, that that was what my Lorazepam is for. So, whenever I have guests, I’m going to take Lorazepam each day of their visit.
When I got back, I took Fred to the vet. I decided to have Sheba come with us because I thought it would help Fred to have Sheba’s company. I have a nice big crate to put him in, and I thoroughly cleaned it, and I put a favourite blanket inside for him. Fred was tense as hell.
Just as I was about to open the car door, the bottom of the crate fell off and Fred, and indoor cat, was loose in the front yard and he would not let me catch him. As our appointment time came and went, I stressed about how I was ever going to get Fred into the house. And then fucking Sosa, the dog from next door, arrived and chased Fred. Fred took off. I was dying.
I screamed and screamed at Sosa him, and Fred was howling at a million decibels from his safe spot up a tree. Colleen removed Sosa and I was able to pry Fred from the tree. I got him into the crate and off we went. Poor Freddy was at his wits end, but as long as I stayed close and kept my hands on him, he was immobile, and that Patricia could give him a thorough checkup. The vet had no concerns, which was good news, but I’ve some homework to do watching Freddy poo and pee to see which function is painful.
When I got home, I was hyperventilating and boiling hot and I had diarrhea! I don’t recall ever being so stressed out. This week has been absolutely brutal. Sometimes what’s going on inside my head and body is worse than the seizures and bad speech, but no one sees my frenzied brain.
I needed a cold shower. The last thing I wanted to do was get into the spa. It was only 24° outside, but it felt more like 40° to me. I gave Fred some treats to help him settle, and I fed Sheba. The rest of the day was mine. I fell onto the chaise and turned on the television, once I’d made dinner. I made myself some comfort food: Laksa.
And bless his beautiful wonderful soul, Fred stayed beside me all through the evening and I continually softly spoke to him and stoked him. I was worried he’d hate me for what I’d done for him, but no. He is such a loving spectacular soul.
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| A favourite breed of mine, Dobermans. I have a Doby friend here on the island names Lucy. |
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