Tag: seizures


I Blame Lily Allen

28
September

I finally understood what causes some people to act out in an irrational and improper way. I know that you would think that I would have learned this after 27 years of having a mother who is prone to acting out on impulse or having a father who has been diagnosed with an explosive anger problem or having relatives who, for all intents and purposes, were sociopaths when they were in their prime. Oh, no. I finally got it today in court, when the city attorney pulled me and my dad into a corridor to tell us that we had two more weeks to get our backyard mowed. My father and I kept trying to express to this man that we’d had the lawn mowed many times over the past few months, and he said that if that were true then we clearly were not getting what we were paying for. (I just love how it is an “if” when we say it or when I show images [on my camera] that were taken this morning and show a cut lawn, but the city just has to have 2 images on regular printer paper with dates scribbled on the paper in ink. That doesn’t prove the pictures were legit. I would like to see the Exif information on them.) So, after much frustration and belittling from him, I uttered two words that I should feel remorse for saying. I muttered, under my breath, “Fuck you.” I didn’t say them to the judge, but since I said them to a “court officer” and was showing him such disrespect, my outburst will be taken into account when they decide how much to fine me and if I get jail time. (This is what he told my father, after I’d walked away.)

First of all, I would like to state that the attorney got very lucky that all I said was, “Fuck you.” I had this urge to shove him into a wall or otherwise inflict physical harm on him. Muttering the “f-bomb” near him was immature and disrespectful, but it was a hell of a lot better than physically accosting him. I think if they’re going to take into account that I said 1 profane word to a court officer, then they should also take into account that my mental illness worsens under stress, which is well-documented throughout my 20 year history of seeing mental health professionals, and that I was also feeling physically unwell after experiencing two absence spells. (There were flickering fluorescent lights in the court, which I didn’t notice until I’d gone through 2 of these spells.) Of course, these things wouldn’t be taken into account because that would mean showing some level of compassion or understanding, which is clearly not a concern for this particular court officer.

Secondly, I think it is weird that the images that were used were of the backyard. The images were from an angle and showed certain things that could only be spotted from a particular spot in our yard. This means that yesterday sometime there was a person from the community development part of the city in my yard. They were trespassing to even get the photos. They claimed that this was what my neighbors see from their backyards, which is utter bullshit. I can truly call bullshit on this one because:

  1. In my lifetime, only two houses have had a good view of my backyard. One of these is the next-door neighbor’s house, which is the house where the person who mows are lawn lives. The other is on a different street. The latter homeowner hasn’t been able to see our yard for more than 10 years. though. The former, though, has only been kept from seeing the yard for 6 or 7 years.
  2. I know that it isn’t visible to either of those houses because on that side of the backyard, there are cypress trees that are about as tall as a two-story house.
  3. There is only one other family that may have, at any time in history, seen our backyard from theirs. Our neighbors directly behind us (though we have the same street in our address) cannot see our yard from their backyard because they’ve had a “popsicle fence” for at least 27 years.
  4. Even if those neighbors didn’t have the fence, we have cedar trees along that property line that are about as tall as the cypress trees. That means that they would have to be in the backyard to see the backyard.
  5. Even though we live on a corner, we have lots of trees between the part in violation and the street. These trees would make it almost impossible to see any of the bad part of the yard from the street. In fact, it is so difficult that I haven’t seen that part of the yard from the street since I was a little kid.

Okay, so basically, this whole premise is ludicrous because, in order for someone to be offended by the height of the grass, the someone would have to be standing in our yard. Also, the idea that neighbors are complaining about it is crazy. The only neighbors that we would continuously bicker with moved to Florida a while ago. (And they were such upstanding people that we used to get anonymous hate [snail] mail and threats from them…yes, you can tell who anonymous hate mail is from.) The rest of the neighbors get along with us now. And those that we don’t know wouldn’t want to complain to the city about our yard because they generally have bad yards or some other city violations that they wouldn’t want to be discovered. So, this whole convoluted idea that the neighbors are complaining is just a bit disturbing.

So, now we have two weeks to fix this problem and then I apparently will be sentenced in some way, shape, or form. It seems ridiculous that I will be the one who gets convicted of a “crime”, even though they have trespassed, lied, withheld evidence (by not specifying who complained, they are denying me the right to confront my accuser), and violated who knows what other laws and amendments that are supposed to protect people from being treated unjustly by their government. I think this whole thing sucks, and I don’t see how any of this does the city any good. Putting a person on trial because their backyard, which you can only see from the backyard, isn’t in tip-top shape is just petty. I mean, it is outright petty. If the city is so hard up for money, then maybe they should come up with a better system of punishing actual criminals. I see people who go into the court who have been cruel to animals or who have violated various laws created to keep people safe and they get no more than a slap on the wrist, but months of court dates, accusations, etc. are going on with me over overgrown grass. This whole this is just ridiculous and infuriating and causes all kinds of stress and anxiety that I really don’t enjoy going through.

Honestly, at this point, I would almost want to be in jail. Being in jail might actually give the city a good idea of what it is like to deal with me, my psychological crap, my physical crap, and my tendency to be a whiny, spoiled brat. I think that they might really appreciate my effort about the lawn if they learned what it was like to deal with an even more stressed out version of me on daily basis. A simple “fuck you” would seem almost like a compliment to them after that. If they don’t think so, then they should check out what was probably written down about me while I was in Decatur General West when I was 17. If a psych hospital found me tiresome, annoying, and rude, then I don’t think a city jail would really like having me around for any length of time.

2 comments » | 10 Years of Madness, Alabama Weirdness, Confessions, Geekery, General, How I Met Your Neighbors (aka An Overactive Imagination), Rants

Unintended Consequences

11
November

Today was my D&C with hysteroscopy. I scheduled it for noon, because I didn’t want to deal with my dad ranting about having to get up at 3 or 4 in the morning for a 7 AM appointment. (You have to arrive 2 hours prior to the scheduled time.) My dad still ranted, even though his wake up call was at 8:30. (He is a strictly 10 AM kind of guy.)

Before we left, my mom had me go get her some water so that she could continue to get in her beloved ice water. (She drinks several 32 oz. cups full of water in a day.) I thought that was a little unfair, but I tried not to hold it against her. I knew that she is still a little skiddish on her feet, especially in the house.

When we got to the hospital, I didn’t have to do mountains of paperwork, since I’d had the pre-op appointment. The guy who called me to the back asked me, “Have you had a hysterectomy?” I almost laughed in his face. (How many people get hysteroscopies and D&C’s when their uterus and other female parts are gone?) Since I hadn’t, the guy made me pee in a cup. (I’m fairly certain that I was not at risk for being pregnant–heavy bleeding + my continued virginity = no pregnancy, y/n?) I did as I was told, though I hate to do the peeing in the cup thing. When I got out of the bathroom, he had me change into the pretty purple paperish gowns that keep you warm and put a blanket on my lap. I was supposed to do all of this and open the door to let the nurses know I was ready at the same time. Apparently, I’m supposed to be supergirl or Jesus or something.

When the nurses came in, they were ready to do the vitals, the remaining blood work, and the IV. I told them, fairly quickly, that I was both a hard stick and a person with hard to hear blood pressure, including with machines. They marveled at the thought, until I explained that these were common traits in my mom’s side of the family. That was interesting to them, but I think they thought at first that I was making this up. (Why would I make this shit up?) Well, the blood pressure came back fairly easily. (125 over 63, pulse of 92, O2 saturation of 99.) The blood/IV was another story. The left hand didn’t work. The left arm wasn’t having it either, though they did get enough blood to check my sugar (105) and my calcium (very low), sodium (normal), and potassium (normal) levels. The right hand also wouldn’t allow for threading the IV tube. (Apparently, they were getting the flashbacks on each, but the veins wouldn’t allow the catheter to be inserted.) So, the anesthesiologist was called in. (I suggested a Cardiac nurse if one was in the hospital, but they weren’t at Women’s & Children’s–they were all at main on the heart floor.) He used a different type of needle and went in on the bundle of veins at my wrist. He got it to work fairly easily.

During pre-op, I had to confirm my name so many times, as well as my birthday and social security number. I also had to explain what was going on and tell them who was with me. I also had to make sure that they had all of my allergies down repeatedly. It was really annoying to repeat the same things over and over. I had my 4 arm bands (ID, latex allergy, drug/food allergies, and fall risk) checked every time a new person came in the room. Once my parents came back, they reminded the CRNA that I get hyper with anesthesia and that I have the staple line left from my gastric bypass surgery. The CRNA said that hyperactivity happens a lot with kids because they have opposite reactions to sedatives, but I don’t know what that means for adults. (I do know that I tend to have the opposite of a normal reaction to a lot of drugs, though.) Because of my history of nausea with anesthesia and problems with GERD, I was given a patch of nausea medicine, a shot of some more nausea drugs, and a shot of Pepcid.

Because of all of the questioning being repeated, my dad asked the pre-op nurse what would happen if they had someone back there who couldn’t answer the question. The nurse asked if he was referring to people who were in a reduced mental capacity and my dad nodded. She said, “We get their family.” My dad said, “So, if they think they’re God–” and she said, “we defer to the next of kin.” I quietly said, “You ask Jesus?” My parents laughed, but the nurse didn’t seem to get it.

When I went to the OR, I had to go over the information one more time, after being scooted onto the table. I was also given something to “take the edge off” or, in other words, keep me calm and maybe shut me up. I felt my brain fighting the sedatives, which is a fairly normal feeling for me. I was trying to hang on to my waking state, but eventually it became too hard and I fell asleep.

I woke up in recovery with a very sore throat. (I had a similar feeling with the sinus surgery/septoplasty.) The recovery room nurse told me that I should calm down and rest, but that wasn’t going to happen. I begged for ice chips, because I was so thirsty. I couldn’t have them until they were sure I wasn’t nauseous anymore. (I had apparently complained before I realized I had come to.) The nurse got me some a few minutes later and then gave me some 7-up and graham crackers. As I ate and drank, my energy began to boost quickly and I was talking quite a bit–not as much as last time. The nurse ended up giving me some Lortab, which I was still a little too groggy to protest to taking. My stomach was cramping really bad and the nurse asked me what kind of dogs we had. Apparently, before I woken up, I had mentioned that my stomach felt like I had a basset hound on it. So, the nurse wanted to know how I knew what that felt like. We talked about dogs until she was sure I was pretty much ready to go to post-op. Before we left my recovery room, she helped me get dressed. (I don’t think they’ve ever helped me dress before leaving recovery.)

In Post-Op, the next nurse was going to hand my parents a script for Lortab. My mom threw a fit, because Lortab causes me to have chest pain. The nurse claimed that it wasn’t anywhere on my file and I hadn’t told them that anytime before. I thought that was funny since I had mentioned it prior to the surgery at the pre-admission appointment, it was in my hospital file before the appointment (I had gone to the main building of the hospital with the first reaction), and it was on the front of my chart. The nurse went out to the desk complaining, and one of the other nurses said, “Well, it is on the front of her chart.” So, she had to call the gynecologist to get his okay to prescribe something else. So I have a few doses of Ultram now. That I can take. Before the squabbling over the prescription, she had checked my BP and it was 123 over 43. I was a little worried about that, but she said it was “good”. I’m still a little skeptical about that.

I got to leave fairly quickly after that. And I am now at home, trying to get comfortable, which is really quite difficult. I still feel like my throat is dry and raw. I think that they might have used the wrong size breathing tube because I came out of surgery with a really raspy voice. (My voice may be quiet, typically, but it almost always smooth–unless I’m sick or have scratched my throat on food.)

Comment » | General, Sickness and Health

Busy Week

18
November

This is supposed to be a busy week for me. Yesterday was my only off day. Today I had an appointment with the gynecologist. Tomorrow is pdoc. Thursday is the therapist. On Friday, I have two tickets to see Twilight.

My gynecologist was busy today, so I only got to see the nurse and the nurse practitioner. The nurse was lucky that I went in in a relatively good mood because she was extremely rude. She announced twice that I had gained 15 pounds…loudly. She then chastised me for gaining said weight and then pestered me on the cause of my visit. I kept telling her that my hormones were screwed up and THAT was the reason my periods have been gone since the summer. She kept insisting that I must be pregnant. Now, I’m no health care professional, but I do believe I have had enough of a biology lesson to know that if you don’t have sex, you don’t get pregnant. Now, I do believe in the whole exception to that rule thing, but I was not visited by angels, nor do I think that I have been inseminated in my sleep by the Spirit. So basically, I knew I wasn’t pregnant, but she would not let it go. Finally, she said, “Well, maybe he won’t make you take a pregnancy test, but I doubt it.” Grr! Oh, and she gave me a hard time about my blood pressure being so high, after she had thoroughly made me mad. The nurse practitioner spent a good deal of time with me. We talked about how I’ve had reactions to birth control pills in the past when trying to get all regulated. We also talked about how impossible it was for me to get pregnant without sex. She told me that she was fairly certain I had PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome), but she was going to run some tests to confirm. So I had to have blood drawn, and the person who did that was actually able to do it in one-stick. That was a God-send.

Tomorrow, I have my five month checkup with the psychiatrist. He’ll tell me how relatively sane I might be, or insane as the case may be. I will have to remember to take my form from UAH to get them to say that I’m a crazy girl and need assistance on tests because of my nuttiness. Fun stuff.

Thursday is my monthly visit with the therapist, though I missed the October one. When I go too long without psychiatric or psychological treatment, I get antsy. Thursday will also be my day to call my family doctor AGAIN to get them to schedule me for a visit with the neurologist to see why I have been having what my mom refers to as “seizures” since I was a little kid.

Friday, of course, is Twilight. All I have to say is that it better not suck.

1 comment » | Plans for Life, Sickness and Health, UAH

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