So much for resting in peace.

From CNN:

Things your body can do after you die

My favorite is #4.

Unexpected

I was working late today – it’s nearly quarter to 10 and I’ll be going back for a bit tonight, after I watch the new Law & Order SVU – and I found something I didn’t expect, when looking for a CD to burn some work stuff on…

Four CDs with pictures. Pictures of the Peanut when she was younger and spent some time with Auntie Kel, pictures of Puddin’ and Penny, pictures of my family at Christmas a couple of years ago.

And pictures of Pip, Piper, Bella, Xander and Felix. Pictures I don’t even remember taking. Precious wonderful pictures of my babies that I didn’t know existed.

I’m uploading them all to my Flickr for safe keeping, in addition to having the CDs and having them in my Picasa. Can’t have too many copies, IMO.

It was very very unexpected, and brought back a lot of memories, of course. I’m so glad to have found them – so glad that I’m absentminded and left them at work rather than taking them home where they would have burned with everything else. But it’s so painful to see those pictures. Truly, sometimes it still feels like yesterday. So hard to believe that it’s been nearly seven months.

Fuck, when will this get easier??? My poor sweet babies. I miss them more than I ever could have imagined.

Crochet and Lifetime movies.

Oy. What a way to spend a Sunday.

Yesterday, Saturday, it was like 87 degrees F, and, after going to the bank and AC Moore (where I bought cotton yarn), I came home and walked to the Carrboro Farmer’s Market, where I bought 8 tomato plants. I don’t know a damn thing about growing tomato plants, but, well, life’s an adventure, and, frankly, growing tomato plants is…not very adventurous. Ah well.

After my visit to the Farmer’s Market, I went to a small arts & crafts fair they were having at the Carrboro Century Center, and bought a few things, including some cute earrings for my work study girls, who have a birthday on Tuesday. They’re twins (obviously), but they actually share a birthday with our other work study student, a guy who grew up about 2 hours north of where they’re from. It’s very very odd, also considering that all three of them grew up in my “hometowns,” so to speak. Very odd.

Back to the weekend recap – I took a nap when I got home, and woke up with a headache after having a dream about a tornado. Okay, seriously, this is about the third tornado dream I’ve had in as many weeks. This one was the most vivid, and involved me and my Goddaughter, Peanut. She ended up getting sucked up in the tornado, but was okay after floating back down and landing safely. Then I woke up.

I had a headache most of the day yesterday, but did some crocheting, trying to finish one project and starting another (with the cotton yarn!). And, after doing some grocery shopping this morning (oh. my. god. how are we going to survive the increase in gas and food prices without massive raises to equal things out a bit???), I’ve been watching the Lifetime movie marathon about weddings and dating while doing some more crocheting. So far, I’ve seen one move with Heather Graham and some good looking guy, a movie with Dr. McDreamy and Kimberly Williams that was quite romantic and sappy as all hell, and now I’m watching a movie with Dean Cain and Denise Richards, where she’s a wedding planner and he’s a groom-to-be (why does that plot sound familiar??? They even took a pot shot at J Lo.).

Anyway, I should get up and get some cleaning done, if at all possible, instead of sitting here and crocheting while watching Lifetime.

Tomorrow I see the new psychiatrist. That should be a hoot.

Hopefully the final time.

Was interviewed by the Daily Tar Heel for their Year in Review issue, which came out today, since today is the last day of classes for the spring semester. (Can you believe it?) Anyway, here’s the article:

Apartment fires sweep area

I think I laughed when the reporter girl asked me if I still think about the fire. Um, yeah, I probably always will. There’s just something about waking up with fire in your house or apartment that creates a picture in your head that just sort of sticks. Not at all unlike the pictures I still have in my head of the 1985 flood when I lived in West Virginia, though I was much younger then and the flood, fortunately, didn’t reach our house. (It reached the house one door down, though. It was very very close.) So, not as scarred by the flood, but, still, seeing a house across the river from yours literally wash away, and knowing that an old lady lived there, and suspecting that she didn’t make it because it all happened so fast…even though I was only nine years old, it still sticks in my head.

I certainly hope this is the final time I’m interviewed by the media about the fire. Not sure how much else there is to say that hasn’t already been said.

Getting better?

Took Neville back to the vet yesterday for blood work, after an evening of his not acting like himself once again on Tuesday night. Apparently, constipation was not his problem.

He was shaking his head a lot when we got up yesterday, and didn’t leave the bedroom until I put him in his carrier to take him to the vet. I left him there while I went to the dentist (which, sucked, btw, because the hygienist I had wasn’t the gentlest person with my mouth…), then picked him up after my appointment. The vet examined him again, and they did an ear cytology because of his head shaking (and the fact that he had a big ball of gunk deep in his ear canal), and they found some bacteria, so they put him on antibiotic ear drops and some Clavamox (antibiotic pills). When we got home, he acted like his old self again. Ate some food, sat in the window, cuddled with me on the couch. Then, all of a sudden, he jumped down and went back in the bedroom, where he proceeded to hide under my chest of drawers. Again, not like Neville.

I think his problem is his ears. Perhaps the slight infection was/is affecting his balance, making him nauseated. Plus, ear infections hurt, so that’s probably adding to the problem. They got his blood work back yesterday afternoon and Dr. Harris called me to tell me that his white blood cell count was normal, but his blood proteins were a little elevated, so he’s probably fighting off something. She said she wouldn’t be surprised if he were an outdoor kitty, but being indoors all the time, she was a little surprised that he would have caught something. Still, that’s the best we can guess right now.

This morning he seemed like he felt a bit better. He ate some dry food and then got up on the bed with me and cuddled for a while. He was in the window when I left for work, so perhaps he’s on the mend. Unfortunately for both of us, he has to have his antibiotics for the next two weeks. And, boy oh boy, does he ever hate them. He almost threw up when I gave him his pill this morning, and did manage to spit it out the first time I tried. I would use the pill pocket treats if I felt like he would eat them, but he doesn’t like treats on a normal day, so I don’t think he’d care for them when his appetite is suffering. So, I “pill” him the old fashioned way. Poor baby.

The unkindness of strangers, or assholes with guns.

Had to take my Neville boy to the vet this afternoon. A couple of days ago, his appetite started waning, which I noticed because he didn’t finish his wet food, which is very unusual for him. This is a cat who harasses me until I get that food and put it in the bowl every night. He only gets wet food at night, has dry food out all the time, and he LOVES his wet food.

Anyway, he wasn’t eating much, seemed lethargic, and wasn’t as talkative, as of last night. He even slept on the dog bed on the floor instead of in bed with me, and he wasn’t wanting to cuddle like he usually does. So, I called the vet this morning and took him in this afternoon.

The vet did an exam and said that she would recommend (a) an x-ray of his thoracic and abdominal areas, to look for an obstruction and (b) blood work to rule out infection and kidney/liver problems. We started with the x-ray, which showed that he likely just has a bad case of constipation, so he’s spending the afternoon at the vet’s office to get an enema (ick) and see if that helps him feel better. If he’s still having issues, they’ll do bloodwork.

I don’t remember if I’ve mentioned Neville’s BBs. When I brought him home, I found some little hard round lumps on various parts of his body. All seemed pretty superficial – they were right under the skin – all were very hard, very round, and about the same size. For ones that were in less furry areas where his skin was lighter, you could see that the lumps were black. I thought, “Wow, I think it’s BBs…,” and the vet agreed when she examined him. She said at the time that we could x-ray him to see for sure, but she was 99% sure, and, as BBs aren’t made of lead anymore and aren’t toxic, we wouldn’t have them, removed anyway if they weren’t bothering him.

So, today I got to see the x-ray – and the BBs. Someone must’ve shot the boy with birdshot, but he must’ve been far enough away that they didn’t hit him with enough to kill him. Still, there were pellets all over – one near his lungs, one very near his spine (almost on the bone), one between his shoulders, and more, in addition to the 8 or so that I had already found in his legs and feet and the one I found in his neck.

The amazing part, in addition to the fact that none of the shot hit any areas that would’ve caused him to bleed to death or something, is that he is such a loving, sweet and gentle kitty, despite being shot by some asshole with a gun.

I know that stray and feral cats can be an annoyance, especially when they aren’t in a managed colony, and especially when the person they are annoying doesn’t like cats. But, if you don’t want the cats around, there are so many options – your local animal control, the animal shelter, rescue groups, etc. – who will either trap the animal and spay/neuter and relocate, if possible, or, worst case, take the animal to a shelter, where he may end up being euthanized. As much as I hate animals of any kind being killed in a shelter, at least they’re not dying a painful death under someone’s house or in the woods somewhere because some idiot decided to shoot them (or torture them in some other way…).

Ah, the things wrong with our world. Sick sick people out there, folks. Some wonderful ones too, but the sickos give humankind a bad name.

Paying attention

I’m in that place right now where I can tell my meds need adjusting. Hopefully, a little tweaking will do the trick, but we’ll see. I’m feeling very on edge and worried about everything – about work and everything I have to do and the fact that there aren’t enough hours to do it all – about home and the fact that my landlord stopped by last night and apparently the “no, the owner of your apartment building isn’t selling it, of course you can stay” has turned into “he’s considering selling – would you like to stay?”; so I don’t know what’s going to happen now and may be out of a place to live AGAIN come June 1 – about taxes and the fact that, yes, I got an extension and, no, I don’t owe anything, but, yes, I still have to do them and no, I don’t want to because it stresses me out to think about fire-related stuff, particularly everything that’s no longer here – about my dogs and their dental cleanings and anesthesia risk and expense and oh, god, what if something goes wrong? – about my cat and the fact that for several days now he’s barely touched his wet food which makes me wonder if (a) something is wrong with him or (b) something is wrong with the food.

Too bad anti-anxiety stuff puts me to sleep. Which would be helpful at night when I can’t sleep, but not so much when I’m supposed to be working.

So, I need a med tweak. My GP certainly can’t do it, and I will do as my older wise bestest friend recommended and contact another local practice (in addition to the one I contacted on Friday), to see if, perhaps, I can find someone who knows something about medication and who can prescribe some drugs for me. Yikes.

Knowing that I’m slipping is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I can try to catch the slippage and stop it before it gets too far. On the other hand, I get more anxious when I feel myself slipping than I would otherwise, because I’m terrified of not being able to stop it. Which, of course, doesn’t help matters.

Ah well. We all do the best we can do, I suppose. Hey, I wonder if there’s any connection between my recent burst in exercise motivation (walking walking walking, anyone?) and the dip in my mood? Hmmm… because it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve noticed such a thing. In fact, every time I had a major depressive episode, it correlated with weight loss and an increase in exercise. The first time, I ended up in an intensive outpatient program in Charlotte. The second time, I ended up the hospital. This time, I’m not dieting, just increasing the exercise…hmmm…

I *really* need to find a new psychiatrist.

Yesterday was okay. I got up fairly early, I went to a few yardsales, I went to AC Moore (not where I had intended to go, but I ended up taking a wrong turn and finding a way to Durham that I didn’t know was there, so I just went with it). I went to Lowes and got stuff to finish an unfinished nightstand my best friend gave me. Got home, took a nap, took a long walk with the dogs, didn’t do much else.

Today, Sunday, I woke up fairly early, got dressed and took the dogs for a good walk, came home and, um, went back to sleep. And I slept. And slept. And slept some more. I finally got up, but haven’t had the energy or motivation to do much of anything today. Once again, I had all of these things I wanted to accomplish, but, well, I just didn’t feel like doing a damn thing. It rained earlier, and I watched “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” on ABC Family (good movie, by the way. Made me cry a bit.) and I did a bit of painting, but nothing that looks like anything, and I’ve just been sitting here. It’s not raining anymore, and I need to take the dogs outside again, and perhaps I’ll go for another walk before it gets too dark.

I feel drained. And I feel like I need an adjustment in my meds.

Speaking of which – my psychiatrist, the man I credit with, well, saving my life in many ways – he married his nurse. I don’t even know when he got divorced, but I suspect he and the nurse had a thing going for a while, probably before his marriage ended. I have very mixed feelings about the whole thing. On one hand, his personal life and choices have nothing to do with his knowledge of psych meds and science. On the other hand, he was, for a long time, the only man in my life I had ever trusted – and it turns out he’s just as much of an ass as any of them. Not that I hadn’t suspected that, but I thought he was a real family man, with the wife and five kids and lots of animals. Guess not. Though the kids are mostly grown and I don’t know the other side of the story.

Ah well. No one’s perfect. Unfortunately, the fact that it turns out that my psychiatrist isn’t exactly the kind of man I thought he was, and that it turns out that many of the things we discussed in my sessions regarding relationships are apparently, um, not very accurate…well, let’s just say it doesn’t help my view of men very much.

Guess you know what I’m going to be discussing in my therapy session on Monday. Of course, since my insurance company (Blue Cross Blue Shield/NC State Health – y’all SUCK) doesn’t want to cover any more visits for the fiscal year to my therapist because I’m not actively SUICIDAL, I may not be dealing with any issues much past Monday. So I guess I’d better fit as much into that Monday session as I can.

On the new psychiatrist front – I don’t really want to go to a man, but I can’t really find many docs who are in my network either (so that I could afford to see them). I did find ratemds.com, which is similar to ratemyprofessors.com, though not as bitter for the most part. But, as I expected, the shrinks with the best ratings are the ones in private practice who aren’t part of a network and expect for you to pay them out of pocket and get reimbursed.

I can’t afford that. I’m already doing it with my therapist.

I did put in a call to a practice in Durham that is in network and had one doc with a good review (and a bad review, but the good review was more recent and more detailed), but he may not be accepting new patients. So, I’m waiting to hear back. I see my internist on Tuesday for my annual physical, and will ask her if she has any recommendations and if she can write me for some med refills so I don’t have to call my former shrink and deal with all that. But we’ll see.

Why can’t this be easier?

I was correct

No walkway when I got home last night. Well, no concrete walkway, at least. They did put down gravel, which the dogs are not crazy about (understandably!).

I walked home again last night. Left work late, around quarter to seven, and the bus wasn’t coming for another 35 minutes (and I can make it home in about 40), so I walked. Interesting walk, too. West Franklin and Main Street Carrboro smelled like a street fair. Very pretty day, so lots of folks were dining outside at the many restaurants along West Franklin, and the tables were set on either side of the sidewalk, so you have to walk right between the restaurant patrons to get where you’re going. Kind of odd, but kind of cool at the same time. Lots of restaurants I’ve never tried, but thinking now that I should.

Got to Weaver Street Market in Carrboro and there were lots and lots of people and some sort of fair going on (looks like the Piedmont Farm Tour kick-off, according to the Weaver Street Market website). Anyway, lots of people socializing, kids playing, folks having dinner and/or ice cream from Maple View Farms’ ice cream store across the road. There was a band, and little girls hula-hooping (or, as my Peanut calls it “lululooping”) – lots of fun. And, it smelled like a street fair. Ah, the smells of the coming summer.

I stopped at the drug store to pick up some meds, and then ran into the Harris Teeter there at Carr Mill to get some milk and a couple of other items. Packed everything into my backpack, and continued on home. Got there around 7:30, which wasn’t bad considering I stopped at the store on the way! Then took the dogs for a short walk. Washed dishes. Cooked supper. Fed the animals. Did a load of laundry so I would have something to wear today. Watched Law & Order SVU. Went to bed.

The high today is supposed to be around 86 degrees F. Earlier this week, we had overnight frosts. Crazy weather, man. And boy, oh boy, am I ever glad it’s almost the weekend. Got lots to do, and might actually have the energy to do it!

You wouldn’t believe how difficult

How hard could it be, in an area with as many doctors per capita as where I live in the Triangle region of North Carolina…how hard could it be to find a decent psychiatrist? Or, well, any psychiatrist at all who’s both accepting patients and in my Blue Cross Blue Shield network?

You wouldn’t believe how difficult. I don’t even know where to start!

When my shrink moved to Charlotte back in December, I really saw little reason to immediately start looking for a new doc. I mean, I’ve been pretty stable for a while, and he is happy to keep treating me if I only come and see him a couple of times a year and just call or email the rest of the time.

But I realized lately that if I start going through a hard time, it would be more helpful, theoretically, to have someone close by than it would to have someone in Charlotte, about 2 hours away. Theoretically, I say.

That theory implies that I would actually be able to FIND a psychiatrist in Carrboro, Chapel Hill, Durham, and the surrounding area. Without admitting myself to the hospital.

There’s a list of docs on my “network providers” list, and I took the list to my therapist, who only knew two names on the list, and only thought highly of one of those. I called the one recommended shrink, but she’s not accepting new patients (although, according to my network provider list, she is. Which goes to show you just how accurate those lists are…).

I looked at both Duke and UNC’s psychiatry departments. They do have clinics, but their focus, at least according to their web sites, is more severe mental illness than what I experience. If you have bipolar disorder, schizophrenia or psychosis, you’re golden as far as finding a doctor is concerned. Well, not really, because if you’ve attempted suicide, most of the docs around here don’t want you as a patient, based on the experience of a friend of mine. And, of course, finding a doctor doesn’t equal finding a good doctor.

UNC doesn’t even have information for folks with general depressive disorder. Now, if you are a woman and your depression is related to a hormonal imbalance (like, if you have postpartum depression or PMDD), you have your own clinic. And, again, if you’re schizo, you have your own clinic. Psychotic? Your own clinic. Bipolar? Same thing. Depressed? Already have a therapist? Just need a doctor who can work with your medications and prescriptions? Sorry, we can’t help you.

That’s the other thing about this area and the shrinks that I’ve found surprising – a large number of them want to do both psychotherapy and medication management. Now, again theoretically, I think this is a good thing. I think that, if you have a talented psychiatrist who is equally good at med management and psychotherapy, it would be easier for that psychiatrist to see and treat the “whole” patient, as opposed to being expected to evaluate a patient based on 15 minutes once a month for a med check. However, if you are like me and you already have a talented psychotherapist and you don’t want to stop seeing her and you just need a psychiatrist who will work on your meds…you’re out of luck.

I’m sure I’m being a bit extreme. Certainly, SOMEWHERE, there are good psychiatrists to be found in this area. Good psychiatrists that are accepting new patients and that I can afford to see. Good psychiatrists who will consider my input on my treatment and who are talented at medication management.

But I don’t have the slightest clue where to start looking.