Dad to the Rescue…

Last night, I was getting ready for work when my father stopped by to my great relief.  It was as if the cavalry had arrived.  I had another hard and struggle filled day – a day where I couldn’t just get comfortable not able to sit or stand up.  It was maddening.  He had been to Waverly to check on my 93 year old great aunt who still lives alone in her little house.  He had also called my new doctor out of concern and explained my current symptoms.  They both agreed the Klonopin was no longer working. That I needed something stronger.

“Here’s some Percogesic and some Xanax,” my father told me after having left his pharmacy to come over handing me a handful of pills. “Take two Percogesic now and three Xanax later. You will get to feeling better. They will both slow you down and allow you to relax giving you some peace.”

We ran and got dad and I gasoline for our cars which I badly needed neglecting such matters the past few days.  I needed my father last night very much and he couldn’t have arrived sooner. I know I have sometimes disparaged my father in the past, but he does love me and cares for me deeply.  I felt I had come to an impasse and was too afraid to call my doctor for help – my phone phobias getting the better of me.  I hugged dad deeply telling him thank you as I snuggled my head against his arm.  He rubbed my hair and hugged me tightly telling me he loved me.

“Get some drinks,” dad said as we stood in the store. “I know you love caffeine. It will perk you up!”

I smiled and got two 1-liter Coca-Colas – dad smiling at my obsessive compulsiveness with my drinks.

“You have it tough, son,” he said. “I worry about you. That quitting smoking was just too much on you. You have a fickle brain chemistry.”

“I am going to Lexington this weekend for the Auburn game,” my father then told me as we filled our cars with gasoline. “I am having Charlie stop by every night to bring you something to eat and to check on you.  He will bring you two Percogesic per night – the anti-histamines helping to calm the abrupt effect your Risperdal has on your brain. It will calm your mind and give you some peace.”

All I needed was some TLC – some help.  It is hard to explain my mental illness – the way my body and brain malfunctions.  It is truly one of the scariest things I have ever experienced in my life – this great malaise I encounter that can completely stop me in my tracks.  I can do so well for months and then this great period of malfunction will hit me.  It is as if my body and brain goes haywire. 

I have taken a lot of solace in the news and CNN lately. It is all so bad, the news, and I realize I don’t have it that badly. I could be in far, much worse shape, or even worse, dead. I relish in life every day and that I am living and getting to experience the little things.  Yesterday, I relished my bed and the warm, comforting covers. So soft. Sleep is my great escape. Maggie and Caramel lay next to me my constant companions. They had both gotten very cold as I had all the windows and doors open to the house as I slept and it was a very, very cool day. I remember curling up with the dogs in my arms as they drew close to me and pulling the covers around them.  It was truly a cherished moment wrapping them up in the covers and going back to sleep.  Despite my malaise, I couldn’t have been happier or more content at that moment. 

Work has thankfully been slow tonight. I took my three Xanax early and have felt this complete and total calm – able to go about my job with an alacrity that has surprised even me.  I’ve stocked all night putting up cases of items and helped a handful of customers. I am determined to keep working to afford me my current level of independence.  This malaise will hopefully pass and I will be back to my former level of functioning.  It is just going to take some time – something I have in abundance these days.  It is the great waiting game.

The Great Malaise…

I had a massive attack yesterday. I wouldn’t call this attack anxiety or panic. It was mental illness. My vision went all wonky and I couldn’t focus. My heart pounded in my chest. I made the attack worse by trying to get out of bed and use the bathroom. I had to go so badly. It devolved into this three hour long affair with mental illness I don’t want to relive. I got so paranoid that my house was dirty and dad was going to berate me for it. Everything looks so dirty when I have these attacks even though my house was relatively clean.  I got extremely paranoid that every noise was a visitor to my house and I didn’t want anyone to see me like I was yesterday afternoon. I couldn’t bare to have visitors and they always seem to come when I am at my worse.  I was scared to death and was so relieved when it had run its course and I got to feeling better. It didn’t help that Maggie and Caramel had cornered a cat under the house and barked incessantly for hours. I thought I was caught in my personal rendition of hell.  Every bark would send my anxieties reeling.  I lay on the bed miserable for hours.

Sleep came easily after the attack abated. I curled up in the bed so relieved to have some relief. I had to be at work in hours. I remember the heat cycling as I curled up in my warm covers. They felt so good. I was soon at rest again just exhausted from my three hour torture event. I remember laying there so relieved I could close my eyes and not see things.  And to be able to breathe again normally.  I couldn’t breath out of my mouth during the attack and could only breathe from my nose. Breathing out of my mouth would cause it to get dry and I felt I was choking and couldn’t get a breath.  It certainly was scary and I was glad it was over. I also got extremely nauseated during this event and felt I was going to thrown up in my bed – unable to make it to the bathroom. 

What would happen if this were to occur at work? That’s what scares me. I would be in an absolute mess. Thankfully, these attacks seem to only happen late in the afternoons when my medication levels are dropping after I have slept all day.  It is a rude awakening let me tell you. Well, I am biding my time to get off and I want to just go home and sleep for the rest of the day. I still feel exhausted from what happened yesterday.  These attacks take so much out of me causing the great malaise as I call them.  

The Catechism…

“Come on!” mom said impatiently after knocking on my door. I was standing there in a t-shirt and my underwear. “Your going to Julia’s with me. You need to get out of the house.”

I quickly dressed excited to have something fun to do.  It would be fun to sit and eat pimento cheese sandwiches, smoke with the 86 year old Julia, and listen to the Catholic ladies’ banter.  I gathered on some clothes and checked the backdoor to make sure it was locked.

“We’ll go get your groceries afterwards,” mom said as we walked out to her car.

Julia’s was fun as I had expected. Julia has this loud jovial laugh that comes freely and often. They did gossip much about what goes on at the Catholic Church as mom had warned me, but they also talked of the history and structure of the church which so fascinated me.

“It all bores me to death,” mom said very un-heartfelt as we were leaving. “I wish they would talk about more of things I know about.”

I know about the history of the Catholic church and the great mechanism that keeps it all going and running. This was right up my alley – loving such things just as my father does.

Mom and I then went to buy my groceries. 

“Don’t you get tired of getting the same things?” she asked me.

“Yes, I do!” I replied emphatically. “Very!”

“Let’s try to get you some interesting things today on your disability money!”

We bought all kinds of easy to prepare, but unusual foods.  Things I would never think of buying without mom along. Mom shopped with her stomach with is akin to a small child’s.

“How do you feel mentally?” mom asked on the way home driving.

“I feel strange as I often do these days,” I told her. “I feel floaty.  As if I am not all there.”

Mom grimaced. She hates to see me struggling, but it had been a good afternoon.  A pleasant afternoon is a better way to describe it.  As anti-social as my mental illness can make me, I relish time with others and adore mom’s church friends.  They are all so interesting people.

“What are you going to do after you take me home?” I asked mom passively interested.

“Oh, I am going to drive down through the Valley a couple of times, raid your father’s pharmacy, and then head home.”

I laughed at the raiding my father’s pharmacy part. Dad says it’s like the Mongol hordes descending upon his store at times at what mom will get and bring home. I kissed mom on the cheek telling her thank you as I climbed out of the car.  Home to my pups was I.  I am off for a few more hours of sleep before getting up for another day – a day already well spent with my lovely mother. 

Worry Warts…

“I fear your quitting smoking has a lot to do with your recent troubles,” dad told me last night after stopping by before work. Mom has also been worried about this. They think my recent cold turkey quitting of my habit is effecting me mentally. “I read in a study where 90 percent of all schizophrenics smoke!”

This morning I left work and drove directly to mom’s after getting a few breakfast biscuits at a fast food place. I picked up my eight very cold diet drinks for the day and in the sack was some beef jerky for the dogs and two packs of Doral Gold 100’s cigarettes thrown in the fray. Mom had written a note…

“I can only afford to buy you two packs a day,” she wrote. “I hope this suffices. I worry about you and don’t want you in pain. Try not to smoke three packs per day. I worry about lung cancer as well. I love you, mom.”

I smiled as I climbed in my car to drive home, immediately lighting up a morning cigarette. It seems quitting smoking again is going to be much harder with this kind of enabling going on. 

Tee asked what mudbugs were and they are fried crayfish – one of the specialties of the Cock of the Walk restaurant. Dad knew I loved them and wanted to treat me.  They come with this spicy dipping sauce and spicy fried fries that are just delicious and decadent – a true Louisiana treat this far to the east.

The recent death of that Rutgers's student over bullying over his sexual orientation has put things into perspective for me. I often get really discouraged with my recent bouts with mental illness – coming to terms that I am actually mentally ill was a very hard thing for me to do.  I know that feeling of loss and discouragement that such things can bring upon you.  I know the desperation you can feel when the audible delusions start and you know you are about to have an especially bad bout with your mental illness for the day – much of which I have hidden from the blog recently.  It has caused me to sleep a lot in depression lately – sleep being the one great escape.  Many mornings coming home to sleep until work again another night.  Death is so final, though, and not the answer.  There are good days as well. Just having the joy of Maggie and Caramel.  The curling up in bed as our usual morning ritual entails is such a joy as the dogs settle in for sleep and I quietly settle in myself. The joy of a good meal and that first cigarette after getting off of work. The call of Mrs. Florene as I am going about my nightly ritual of getting ready for work. There is much to live for and I don’t want to lose sight of this.  It can really put things into perspective. 

“I’m coming to terms with my job,” George also told me as I walked to my car this morning after clocking out. “I’ve gotten to where I like it!”

“Good!” I replied, relieved. “Your lucky to have it. It was no small feat to get it for you, you being an ex-con.”

“It helps that my boss is one smokin’ hot lady!”

I smiled. George is always thinking with his penis. Some things will never change – the absurd simplicity of it all.

Well, I am off for a much welcomed round in bed.  I plan to sleep all day and hopefully wake up late this evening feeling renewed and refreshed.  The dogs already know the routine and I can hear Maggie scratching at her cooties on the bed from my computer room. They are waiting on me – them enjoying this routine as much as I. 

Joy to the Circus…

“You should have went with us!” Mrs. Florene said excitedly over the phone last night.

George got on the phone and told me all about the horses and the clowns. It sounded neat. I shied away from getting out of the house and stayed inside last night. It was my night off and I was in bed by seven and woke up at 3 am – my medications making me so sleepy. The circus set up shop down in the old playground from the elementary school that sat there during my youth before it was torn down and a new school was built across the road. I drove by a few times last night on my way to Fat Albert’s noticing the amount of cars involved and the circuses’ entourage.

“It was the Lewis and Clark circus,” George told me.

I explained to George who Lewis and Clark were and the discovery of the Northwest passage by them. George didn’t seem too interested in my bit of American history, though.

Dad and mom stopped by after eating at the “Cock of the Walk” restaurant. Dad brought me a plate of fried mudbugs and some fried green tomato appetizers. It was delicious and a welcomed treat.

“How are you feeling tonight?” dad asked me as I sleepily wiped my eyes from being in bed.

“Dad, I have felt so strange lately,” I explained to him. “I feel spaced out all the time.”

“Give your medications time to work before you quit taking them,” he replied, warning me.

I woke up at 3am and immediately drove over to get my eight diet drinks for the day. It was a pleasant, cool drive with fall finally arriving in the South. I had to turn on the heat in my car it was so chilly. I’ve been waiting for this weather for months – finally growing tired of the incessant summer heat we have been experiencing.  I love the change of seasons.  Soon, there will be the smell of burning leaves and the sound of kids wandering through the neighborhood for Halloween. I will try to do something special for Halloween this year and decorate and put out candy.

Well, I am going to toodle around with my computer for awhile. I bought the 64-bit edition of Windows 7 Ultimate yesterday and I am going to install it this morning and see if it is faster and if I can find all the relevant drivers for my computer hardware.  Dad promised me last night that if I were to quit smoking again, he would give me $300 dollars a month to upgrade my computer before New Year’s arrives. The will give me ample impetus to quit smoking again. I can quit with that kind of reward on the way – my computer being more important than any amount of cigarettes smoked.  I am off to be offline for a few hours and  hopefully will be back up and running before dawn with an interesting new operating system.    

The Week is Almost Over!

George has been busy this week.  The circus is in town and he wanted me to go tonight. He also used his paycheck to get a cellphone and has been calling me constantly. “What now?” I will ask. “I just wanted to see what you were doing,” George will reply. I will chuckle some and hang up the phone after telling him nothing much has changed since the last call.

Earlier in the week. Monday, I think. George and I were sitting in my car eating a burger and fries. My hands were shaking so furiously and violently that I could barely eat.

“That’s not normal!” George told me, biting into his Big Mac. “You need a cigarette to calm your nerves.”

Traditionally, George has always smoked cigars, but has been smoking cigarettes ever since he got out of prison.

“Oh, I don’t think I could go through the withdrawal of quitting a second time,” I told him as I spilt more fries on the floor of my Civic.

“Just smoke one and see how you feel,” George said, very coyly. 

I smoked a cigarette and my hands instantly quit shaking. I felt calm and collected again. I was still going through withdrawal after having smoked for 24 plus years very heavily.

Well, I felt terrible as I went out and bought a carton and started smoking again.  It set forth into motion this deep depression of the likes I haven’t experienced in years.  I didn’t want to write my blog. Going to work was a chore. All I wanted to do was sleep.  That is easing up some now.  I wanted to kick George in the ass for coercing me back into smoking, though.  He meant well, but it sent me into a tailspin.  Cigarettes are so god-awful expensive these days.

Cock of the Walk…

Dad stopped by tonight after we haven’t spoken in about a week.  Dad is finally coming round to my new way of life.  I told him there have been some bumps in the road regarding me and he said that was to be expected. I love my father dearly and want his approval.  We just rode around in his car tonight buying and drinking sodas. Dad let me smoke in his new CR-V which surprised me. “Ah, have you a a few smokes,” he told me very casually. “My daddy would love to be alive to have him a few cigarettes with his father.”

Dad was bitching about mom.  I always seem to get caught in the middle.  Dad was taking mom down to the “Cock of the Walk” restaurant to eat tonight.

“You want to go?” he asked me very excitedly like he wanted a man along to talk football with.

“I better stay at home,” was my shy and forlorn reply.

“I love you, son,” dad said, putting his hand on my knee.  “I really do and I am so proud of you. You’ve really surprised me.”

I also told dad how my psychiatrist had bumped me up from 2mg to 4mg of Risperdal fearing I am showing signs of schizophrenia – the paranoia and other symptoms I have been having lately.

“Are you taking it?” he asked very warily.

“Yes,” I said. “But it makes me so sleepy!”

“You need something to calm your mind down,” he told me. “You have always had a busy, overactive mind.”

This fact about my medication regimen also deeply depressed me and disturbed me. I don’t want to be mentally ill. I want to be just like you. Normal. I don’t want to always have to be dependent upon these myriad of substances just to function and go about my daily life.

Dad took me home then came inside to feed Maggie and Caramel.  This thrilled Maggie and Caramel to death.  I do her water and dad will put a cup of fresh kibbles out for her to eat.  He remarked on how nice and clean my house was which made me proud. I have worked this week to keep it clean despite all that I have been going through depression-wise.

Paranoia…

Suffered from a bit of paranoia about the blogs lately. It happens to me from time to time causing me to remove myself from the web.  I am feeling better now.  Going to just post under my pseudonym for a change, though, and not my real name.