I’ve got some concerned emails from people asking what’s going on, on account of I haven’t updated and blogged for two and a half weeks. Well, I haven’t decided to give up Charley or anything like that. And I’m okay. Well, kind of.
At Nick’s visitation I was starting to feel the beginnings of a cold. It considerably worsened and I wound up missing his funeral as a result. Didn’t want to spread my germs around to the other attendees. I spent the next several days in bed, quite miserable.
I went to a doctor at one point and asked for prescription cough syrup, because I couldn’t sleep for coughing and spoonfuls of honey (my usual remedy) had absolutely no effect. I requested a specific type of cough syrup, because as far as I know it’s the only kind that doesn’t taste terrible. (Mind you, it doesn’t taste great, either, but it’s possible for me to swallow without gagging and grabbing a handful of Saltines and stuffing as many in my mouth as I could.) Well, no dice. For some reason the doctor refused to give me that cough syrup and prescribed some other type that tasted terrible. It did take care of my cough though and I suppose that’s what matters.
While I was dealing with the cold I basically didn’t eat for several days. I tend to stop eating when I’m sick — no appetite.
Then, once I got better from the cold, I couldn’t keep anything in my stomach. I thought perhaps my blood sugar had gone haywire from the previous four days’ fasting, which tends to happen to me and it causes nausea, but (A) it never had this duration and (B) when it happens, I just have to bring it up once and then feel much better. Not this time. Most of last week I could keep nothing down. Whatever I ate, be it spaghetti or an Egg McMuffin or the standard Stomach Flu Diet of Saltines and ginger ale or just pop, up it came again, though not necessarily immediately. On Sunday Michael and I went out to have dinner with his parents for his dad’s 70th birthday, and all I had was a glass of water. I’ve lost five pounds this month already. The thing is, the whole time I was terribly hungry and couldn’t think of anything but food, but when presented with something, even if it was one of my favorite foods, I’d only be able to eat like three bites, max, before I’d shove it away.
As regular readers know, I have several mental conditions and take a number of psychiatric drugs — four of them — to keep them in check. After a day or two of all that I decided to stop wasting my meds and just not take them till all this blew over. I know you’re not supposed to do that but I saw no alternative. I was basically throwing the pills away and I didn’t want to waste them or have them contaminate the water supply. (I’m open to suggestions on how to address this for the next time I encounter this issue.)
Well, I’m over the stomach flu or blood sugar thing or whatever was making me so sick but now, re: my medications (though I restarted them yesterday), I’m paying dearly for missing so many days.
I can’t get anything done. It took several days for me to even get the ability to sit down and write this. I’m the house-girlfriend, meaning one of my functions is to keep the house reasonably tidy, and I just…can’t do it right now. I’ve got the usual anxiety. Small things, or even problems that have been settled long ago, keep freaking me out. The other day while Michael and I were lying in the dark after we went to bed, I started begging him to forgive me for the fact that we are never going to have children and because of me his branch of the Lianez family is going to die out. (Something Michael has known and accepted for around eight years.) So the house becomes a bigger and bigger mess, and I feel overwhelmed even thinking of trying to make it right, so I wind up just sitting there staring at the couch for ages, and more stuff piles up.
Friday I went across the street to my friend S.’s house (she of the lambskin gloves), almost in tears, asking her to help me with the dishes. I though if she could just help me get started, or tell me exactly what to do, I could get the ball rolling again. She basically told me to stop running away from my problems, and the fact I couldn’t get off my rear end to get basic housework done was no concern of hers, and she had her own dishes to do. She sent me away. Although S. didn’t actually say it her whole message was basically “beep off.” I wasn’t sure whether she was mad at me or whether she was trying to point out (in her typical acerbic manner) that my present course of (in)action was unproductive. Well, last night I went to see her again and all was well. It turned out both of my theories were wrong: she’d been dealing with a severe headache when I showed up and was grumpy. Certainly I know how that goes.
I don’t know why I’m telling you guys as this. Even to me it sounds like an excuse to slack off my Charley duties. I feel pretty guilty about that. I think I it owe you all to keep working for as long as I’m able. Though I haven’t got much in terms of monetary rewards (new computer and Lions Club donation aside), you guys have no idea how much your support has meant to me over the past six-plus years. And it makes me feel good to tell the stories of MPs. Even if they never get located I want people to at least remember who they were.
I feel like I’m letting you down and have been for a long time.
I’m not sure how long it will take my medicine to become effective again. Hopefully just a few days. I tend to respond to med changes pretty rapidly — though the downside is when they inevitably stop working, my mood tends to fall as quickly as it rose. Once I feel better I’ll start resuming updates. Should be within a week anyway.
In the meantime you’ll have to content yourself with this Executed Today entry for 19th-century Arizona murderer Dennis Dilda, and these pics taken today. One is a selfie; the other two were taken by S.
If Kaine/Viola/whatever their name is comments again that I look like someone from the 1950s, I suppose in this instant he/she might be right. Calf-length plaid skirts are hardly the height of fashion. But I like them.