Good news: I’m on The List.
Bad news: I’m on The List, but on a hold status until I have more damn testing (they found nodules on my thyroid and spine and I have to do a stress test)
Good news: TheKid is almost done with school, her internship starts 04/08/13!
Bad news: She can’t find a goddamned internship. She’s been strung along by more than a few places. One place contacted her school, looking for interns - she called and was told nope, they’re not. Another place must be rolling, as the head baker seems to always be on vacation. She wants to stay here at home, due to my health issues, but that may not seem likely.
That’s one of the things that pisses me off most about the mental health system. I’ve encountered it in the US and in Canada and it’s the same. Everyone encourages you to get help if you need it. Don’t suffer alone! Don’t wait until it’s too late! And then you drag your depressed ass somewhere and beg for help because your world is so dark you can barely stand the effort involved in getting a pair of socks on, and they put you on a waiting list. Or, as SpazCat said, drug you and wish you the best of luck.
The whole point of getting help is so that you can try and stop the depression before it gets so bad that you need to be pulled back from the brink of suicide. Unless you tell them you’ve had thoughts of hurting yourself, though, most of the time all they offer you is a quick fix. It’s wrong and I hate it so much.
Go back. Tell them it is a crisis. Keep going back. Go to a doctor. Keep poking them till someone listens. You can PM me if you need some support. I’ve been there.
Okay so this guy’s two golden retrievers went missing from his property out in the country near my city.
According to the newspaper article, the guy hired a “dog whisperer” who told him that the dogs were still alive and had been stolen, taken north to “a community beginning with the letter T”, and they’d be returned in two weeks because the “thieves” wanted a ransom. Cite: Latest News - Breaking News Stories | Simcoe.com
Yesterday the dogs were found dead in a pond on the guy’s property, likely from falling through the ice. (Sorry I can’t link to that cite, Facebook is blocked at my work, search “Rosa & Diego” on FB if you’re curious.)
My question is: What does the so-called “dog whisperer” think about this and how much money did they charge the guy? Fucking charlatan, preying on desperate individuals and giving them false hope.
I was baking something in the oven last night with a water bath, and when I reached in the oven to retrieve the pan I got a nasty steam burn. No oven mitts, just hot pads.
Note to self: Let the steam escape the oven before reaching in next time.
Do you want me to visit that website and tell them that in the comments section, or do you want me to go to Vancouver and tell them that in person?
I can do the first one, but the second is too hard (especially because it’s already Wednesday). Also I don’t know how to say “human shit stain” in Canadian.
So… Let’s combine the full body pain from yesterday with back spasms. Not able to stand straight up, have a definite list to the right.
Oh, and I didn’t get to sleep until nearly midnight because the fucking kid next door (whose parents were apparently gone) playing his stereo late at night. Went over and told him to turn it down at 10:15 and 10:50. He turned it down both times (ok, took him 5 minutes to do it the second time) and then turned it back up 5-10 minutes later. At 10:55, two groups of friends loudly departed, and loudly came back 10 minutes later just as he turned the stereo back up.
At 11:20pm I called the cops. Wondering if one of his friends has a scanner, because within 2 minutes, the stereo got turned off and all his friends very quietly filed out and instead of thundering down the stairs, quietly walked down the hall in the other direction.
So, lack of sleep on top of the pain issues. At work because I can’t afford another day off without pay (the life of a contractor) and we already have half the team off on vacation days.
I have one of those annoying thin line burns from hitting the edge of the wire rack while getting a loaf of bread out. I really hate those.
On the plus side, I still have a small jar of silver sulfadiazine ointment which is apparently now considered an evil and nasty thing to put on burns … however when I use it on a blistered area, the blisters flatten out and thicken as if the burn was a week old, the pain is gone and it is damned near instant heal on me. So instead of having a 3 inch by quarter inch blister on my arm, I have a 3 inch by quarter inch sort of calloused mildly ouchy area that will peel in about a week to expose nice brand new skin and not a weepy sore ouchy area that will get skin in a couple more weeks. They can have my silvadene ointment when they pry it out of my cold dead hands.
10:30 a.m. and I was already searching for a private place in my new, crowded, 21-story office building to just have a quiet cry. Turns out that my choices are: try to be silent while women piss and shit adjacent to me, or schlep all the way back out to my car.
Shit that I haven’t ranted about here has piled up to such an extent that I can’t even put it into words for random anonymous strangers to read. Sorry. Can’t.
I have to hold on, but I just feel like I can’t. I’m done, and what little I had of a support system is having a worse time of it than I am, and just GODDAMMMITTTT FUUUUCK.
Well I didn’t miscarry on vacation, yay. The pregnancy tests took a big step in getting darker on our first full day there, then stayed the same.
Yesterday I had a beta/prog draw. Today the test lines are much, much lighter. Back in the “first time I’m sure there’s a line there” category.
Feeling tired and sad. I just wish I could get this over with and KNOW how it will end, one way or another. Keep checking online to see the beta results, and they aren’t up yet. Not scheduled for an ultrasound until March 27. I really don’t think I’ll make it that far. I wonder if the progesterone would delay an inevitable miscarriage.
Oh, purplehorseshoe, I wish the world would stop fucking with you. If you want to rant please go ahead and never mind if it’s coherent or explained, just let it out and we’ll all give you some hugs and tell you there there. It really will help, honest.
{{{There there}}} things are going to get better.
Oh, and if you need some people hunted down and massacred, just let us know.
My friends were already there in the comments section. Catherina Becker and Dorit Reiss rock!
My rant is my property taxes are going up yet again. I hate NJ. I wish we could move but my husband works in NYC so it was either here or even more expensive Long Island. We had no choice because we want a backyard and (I’m sorry to say) most NYC schools suck unless you can afford a million dollar apartment in Park Slope or an even pricier house in Whitestone.
Woke in the middle of the night - the dog … wants, nay NEEDS to go out. Attempted to leap out of bed and got tangled in bedsheets, spralled across the floor, dogs cold nose up my arse, boyfriend screaming Boo Boo, you bumped your head.
In fact I bumped my chin on the edge of a mosquito bat, grazed my elbow on a side table, disappointed the old man since I wasn’t properly injured and stomped off to let the dog out. Went to work with a rather strange red mark on my chin.
