I'm sitting here listening to the sound of the keys as I'm typing them. It's one of my "new sounds." After a couple of weeks wearing my new hearing aides, I'm still amazed every night when I take them out at just how deaf I actually am. And how lucky am I to have a wife who was so moved by all the sounds we couldn't share that she found a way to be able to afford them. Every day is filled with new wonder, hearing so many things I couldn't until just recently.
All of this is even more gracious considering the fact that this place is employing customer service that is rivaled only by Disney World. I've been back twice for service meetings to answer any questions I have as well as checking to making sure every thing is calibrated correctly.
My latest new sound is the sound of kneading Sculpty clay in my hands as this summer's project is learning how to sculpt little hands. After they come out of the oven I've been stringing them onto a chain and wearing them around my neck. By the end of the summer I will have so many on there that they will resemble big puka shells.
So that's where I am at the moment. See ya Next Time!
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
Sunday, April 29, 2018
BOOBS GONE WILD
Well, I've gotten most of the "bad" letters working so I decided it's ok to write another post. Indeed, there is certainly a reason for it.
I've been having restless legs for quite a while now. Dr, Rein has me on Gabapenten for it. It works most of the time but I still have nights where I cannot sleep because my legs are creeping me out.
I don't know about anybody else but my arms started to crawl as well. You never hear about "restless arms" but it's very much the same thing only in my arms. I'm lucky that I don't get both of them at the same time.
A couple of weeks ago I began having "restless boobs" and I am not even joking. It actually started a long time ago. I just didn't make the connection until now. After all, when your arms are at it you shake them out. When your legs are at it you kick them out. But boobs are differnt. They don't move on their own and it was a couple of weeks ago I shook them out for the first time. And everything popped into place.
There are several reasons why restless boobs are a hindrance. Mainly, as I said, boobs don't move on their own the way legs and arms do. You can't just shake or kick them out. No, this type of restlessness needs help. The solution is to shake them out manually. And just a jiggle won't do the trick, either. You have to get in there and really slap them around.
Another problamatic situation is that they can occur along with either arms or legs. It's a good thing I don't need my hands to shake my arms or legs since I need that skill to battle boobs.
As if these problems weren't enough, unike restless arms or legs, restless boobs can occur anytime during the day. I was in the grocery store the other day when it hit me hard. I managed to get into an aisle by myself so that I could take care of things, however, I'm sure they've got me on security footage somewhere. And I bet I look ridiculous.
Lauren thinks it's hilarious and I have to admit that it is kind of funny. I mean what am I going to do? I can let it beat me or I can handle it with grace. Now, I'm waiting for an incident to happen sometime when I can't find a semi-private place and am forced to slapping them around for the whole world to see.
And you can bet your bottom dollar that I'll be letting you know exactly how it happened right here.
I've been having restless legs for quite a while now. Dr, Rein has me on Gabapenten for it. It works most of the time but I still have nights where I cannot sleep because my legs are creeping me out.
I don't know about anybody else but my arms started to crawl as well. You never hear about "restless arms" but it's very much the same thing only in my arms. I'm lucky that I don't get both of them at the same time.
A couple of weeks ago I began having "restless boobs" and I am not even joking. It actually started a long time ago. I just didn't make the connection until now. After all, when your arms are at it you shake them out. When your legs are at it you kick them out. But boobs are differnt. They don't move on their own and it was a couple of weeks ago I shook them out for the first time. And everything popped into place.
There are several reasons why restless boobs are a hindrance. Mainly, as I said, boobs don't move on their own the way legs and arms do. You can't just shake or kick them out. No, this type of restlessness needs help. The solution is to shake them out manually. And just a jiggle won't do the trick, either. You have to get in there and really slap them around.
Another problamatic situation is that they can occur along with either arms or legs. It's a good thing I don't need my hands to shake my arms or legs since I need that skill to battle boobs.
As if these problems weren't enough, unike restless arms or legs, restless boobs can occur anytime during the day. I was in the grocery store the other day when it hit me hard. I managed to get into an aisle by myself so that I could take care of things, however, I'm sure they've got me on security footage somewhere. And I bet I look ridiculous.
Lauren thinks it's hilarious and I have to admit that it is kind of funny. I mean what am I going to do? I can let it beat me or I can handle it with grace. Now, I'm waiting for an incident to happen sometime when I can't find a semi-private place and am forced to slapping them around for the whole world to see.
And you can bet your bottom dollar that I'll be letting you know exactly how it happened right here.
Wednesday, March 7, 2018
CAREFULLY, CAREFULLY
Once more it's been a while since I last posted. This is because I have been short a proper venue for writin'. I'm tryin' to write this without usin' a certain letter (which I can't disclose because it doesn't work). Let's just say that it is harder than one would think. I've had to rework every sentence so far includin' this one. The truth is that I'm surprised I've gotten this far.
And, to be fair, it's been rather taxing.
So, I'm endin' here... At least you all know what's been keeping me from writing.
(A few minutes later)
OMG! The key that wasn't working was the "g"
and now it's working. FUCKING A!!!!
So, should I press my luck and write more here or should I take it and run? I think I'll leave it here.
Until next time...
And, to be fair, it's been rather taxing.
So, I'm endin' here... At least you all know what's been keeping me from writing.
(A few minutes later)
OMG! The key that wasn't working was the "g"
and now it's working. FUCKING A!!!!
So, should I press my luck and write more here or should I take it and run? I think I'll leave it here.
Until next time...
Friday, November 17, 2017
Update Since Forever
It's been a long time since I've posted. I am here to tell you there is a good reason for that. In the time since my last post I OD'd on my Seroquel. I also spent time in an inpatient nut house (not a place for drug abuse although more than half of my fellow inmates had drug issues) and found it rather refreshing to be plunked in with people who were "obviously" mentally ill (including a patient I nicknamed "Hyena" due to this kid who ran up and down the halls waving his arms and laughing loudly like a typical mad scientist --I'm not sure what was more disturbing here: that he was daily engaging in this behavior or that no one seemed affected by this. I never heard him speak a single word).
After being sprung from this place, I immediately started the process of either being admitted to another inpatient drug therapy or admitted to an out patient program where I would mostly be evaluated and my drug cocktail could be adjusted.
Today I am 48 days clean and headed to see Dr. Rein to have my medications evaluted yet again My hallucinations are mostly under control and I'd say as good as it's going to get. Both Lauren and Ma are totally overjoyed at having me "back." And I have to say that I am rather glad myself.
Stay tuned to my usual fare. More will be coming.
After being sprung from this place, I immediately started the process of either being admitted to another inpatient drug therapy or admitted to an out patient program where I would mostly be evaluated and my drug cocktail could be adjusted.
Today I am 48 days clean and headed to see Dr. Rein to have my medications evaluted yet again My hallucinations are mostly under control and I'd say as good as it's going to get. Both Lauren and Ma are totally overjoyed at having me "back." And I have to say that I am rather glad myself.
Stay tuned to my usual fare. More will be coming.
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Rx "HELPER" CARDS Part One
Yeah, I know... I'll post an entry and then drop off the face of the earth for a month. There is actually a technical reason for this. You see, I write these posts on my tablet which has a keyboard. I only hook the keyboard up when I'm doing extended writing like this. The reason is because when I try to post on my regular laptop, for some reason, it doesn't give me a finalized view of the post. When I click to look at the blog view it looks exactly as it does when I'm writing it... like a page from WORD. I don't want to post anything unless I can see what it will look like to YOU. However, the keyboard is quite a bit smaller than a regular keyboard so I make typo errors a lot, etc, etc.
ANYWAY, it takes, like, three times as long to write a post as it normally would. I AM getting used to it though, so as my comfort level gradually gets better the more I will write.
So, don't worry. While I am spending time in Batshit Crazy National Forest, it is not in the form of sitting in a corner drooling in the bedroom. I've actually been quite busy with various projects. One literary, several visual arts, at least two scientific, and (what has turned out to the hardest) organizing the studio.
More on those projects later.
The last time Lauren and I went to see Mr. High and The Undertaker, for some reason the receptionist put us in the ajoining waiting room and in there was a table with different colored stacks of what we're calling "Helper Cards." They are actually colored printer paper cut to 3" by 6" and paper clipped together into groups depending on the subject. On the way out, I went back into this other waiting room and took two of them: "Voices" (yellow) and "Delusions" (red). I was reading them to Lauren on the way home and said, "These will be fun for the blog" (to which she enthusiastically agreed).
Before I begin, I want to ONCE AGAIN point out that, while I might use any part of my healing process for it's comedy value here in this blog (which is also part of my healing process), I DO TAKE ALL OF THIS VERY SERIOUSLY. On that note, shall we begin?
When I use these Helper Cards here, I will only concentrate on one per post.
So, the first card in the "voices" category (because I've been hearing more than just the storm wind lately) reads as follows:
"WHEN THE VOICES START, HUM OR SPEAK QUIETLY TO YOUR SELF... Some research suggests that using your own voice can make distressing voices go away."
Now, I've been a performing artist practically my whole life. When I was about 10 years old, Ma walked into my room without knocking and found me playing air guitar and singing into a hair brush to a Partridge Family album and I was in my first guitar lesson a week later. Even before that, I would read books out loud (each paragraph in a different voice taken from kids in my class). As I started to write my own music, I would discuss it with myself OUT LOUD. Ma was always asking me who I was talking to (without opening the door) and I'd say, "Myself." She would say OK and be off to continue on to wherever it was she had been off to when she passed my door. As a result, I've never had a problem with public speaking or performing (be it singing, playing, or acting).
So this Helper Card was actually the one that gave me the idea to share them here. I already am speaking to myself as well as answering. This is a process I always put under the category of "character building" (in the literary sense). So the auditory hallucinations I'm having now actually DISTRACT ME FROM TALKING TO MYSELF.
At this moment, I am working on getting my performing voice back as I hope to, at some point, do a final "concert." So, I am in the middle of voice bootcamp. This means I read everying outloud, I never fix food without doing a commentary (mostly for Laurens sake to make her laugh) for a imaginary show I call "Hobo Kitchen." When in any kind of store by myself, I speak all of my thoughts loud enough for anyone close to hear and you'd be surprised how often people either laugh out loud or start talking to me. And, of course, when in the middle of any sort of science experimention, this is the perfect place to throw ideas back and forth with myself.
We haven't talked about the "Tree People" yet but I always word my thoughts in the backyard to Elfie, our pup. Of course, I will repeat back to myself her "answers" which mostly come out as questions.
However there is a big difference between a speaking voice and a singing voice. So I've also started popping the headphones on and singing at the top of my voice outside. This has been the hardest step, like when I first started busking in Nashville, but the most productive. There is a certain headspace you need to be in to sing so loud (sometimes the same song over and over) to music that only
you can hear. But I know that because this is the hardest part to get comfortable with, I am making huge strides toward my ultimate goal.
Eventually, the headphones will come off and the guitar will go out with me. When I get to the point of busking in our own backyard the new songs I intend to write between now and then, I'll know it will be time to start the technical aspects of this one and only and LAST show.
Now, aside from all of this (and in addition to the auditory "storm" I hear), I also hear a male voice (sometimes yelling as if from far away or talking as though in the same room) desperately asking, "CAN YOU HEAR ME?" That's the main one anyway. Very annoying since I then have to stop talking to myself to hear him. He sounds lost and I haven't yet answered him.
At any rate, I did get a good laugh from this Helper Card. I didn't find it particularly helpful, though.
The next time we delve into Helper Cards, I'll take one from the "delusions" pile. And then alternate. In the meantime, I hope I have other things to write about between now and then. The Helper Cards are really a filler for when I know I haven't written in too long, and need a good subject to start the entry out with.
Until then I highly recommend talking to and answering yourself. It's good for the soul.
ANYWAY, it takes, like, three times as long to write a post as it normally would. I AM getting used to it though, so as my comfort level gradually gets better the more I will write.
So, don't worry. While I am spending time in Batshit Crazy National Forest, it is not in the form of sitting in a corner drooling in the bedroom. I've actually been quite busy with various projects. One literary, several visual arts, at least two scientific, and (what has turned out to the hardest) organizing the studio.
More on those projects later.
The last time Lauren and I went to see Mr. High and The Undertaker, for some reason the receptionist put us in the ajoining waiting room and in there was a table with different colored stacks of what we're calling "Helper Cards." They are actually colored printer paper cut to 3" by 6" and paper clipped together into groups depending on the subject. On the way out, I went back into this other waiting room and took two of them: "Voices" (yellow) and "Delusions" (red). I was reading them to Lauren on the way home and said, "These will be fun for the blog" (to which she enthusiastically agreed).
Before I begin, I want to ONCE AGAIN point out that, while I might use any part of my healing process for it's comedy value here in this blog (which is also part of my healing process), I DO TAKE ALL OF THIS VERY SERIOUSLY. On that note, shall we begin?
When I use these Helper Cards here, I will only concentrate on one per post.
So, the first card in the "voices" category (because I've been hearing more than just the storm wind lately) reads as follows:
"WHEN THE VOICES START, HUM OR SPEAK QUIETLY TO YOUR SELF... Some research suggests that using your own voice can make distressing voices go away."
Now, I've been a performing artist practically my whole life. When I was about 10 years old, Ma walked into my room without knocking and found me playing air guitar and singing into a hair brush to a Partridge Family album and I was in my first guitar lesson a week later. Even before that, I would read books out loud (each paragraph in a different voice taken from kids in my class). As I started to write my own music, I would discuss it with myself OUT LOUD. Ma was always asking me who I was talking to (without opening the door) and I'd say, "Myself." She would say OK and be off to continue on to wherever it was she had been off to when she passed my door. As a result, I've never had a problem with public speaking or performing (be it singing, playing, or acting).
So this Helper Card was actually the one that gave me the idea to share them here. I already am speaking to myself as well as answering. This is a process I always put under the category of "character building" (in the literary sense). So the auditory hallucinations I'm having now actually DISTRACT ME FROM TALKING TO MYSELF.
At this moment, I am working on getting my performing voice back as I hope to, at some point, do a final "concert." So, I am in the middle of voice bootcamp. This means I read everying outloud, I never fix food without doing a commentary (mostly for Laurens sake to make her laugh) for a imaginary show I call "Hobo Kitchen." When in any kind of store by myself, I speak all of my thoughts loud enough for anyone close to hear and you'd be surprised how often people either laugh out loud or start talking to me. And, of course, when in the middle of any sort of science experimention, this is the perfect place to throw ideas back and forth with myself.
We haven't talked about the "Tree People" yet but I always word my thoughts in the backyard to Elfie, our pup. Of course, I will repeat back to myself her "answers" which mostly come out as questions.
However there is a big difference between a speaking voice and a singing voice. So I've also started popping the headphones on and singing at the top of my voice outside. This has been the hardest step, like when I first started busking in Nashville, but the most productive. There is a certain headspace you need to be in to sing so loud (sometimes the same song over and over) to music that only
you can hear. But I know that because this is the hardest part to get comfortable with, I am making huge strides toward my ultimate goal.
Eventually, the headphones will come off and the guitar will go out with me. When I get to the point of busking in our own backyard the new songs I intend to write between now and then, I'll know it will be time to start the technical aspects of this one and only and LAST show.
Now, aside from all of this (and in addition to the auditory "storm" I hear), I also hear a male voice (sometimes yelling as if from far away or talking as though in the same room) desperately asking, "CAN YOU HEAR ME?" That's the main one anyway. Very annoying since I then have to stop talking to myself to hear him. He sounds lost and I haven't yet answered him.
At any rate, I did get a good laugh from this Helper Card. I didn't find it particularly helpful, though.
The next time we delve into Helper Cards, I'll take one from the "delusions" pile. And then alternate. In the meantime, I hope I have other things to write about between now and then. The Helper Cards are really a filler for when I know I haven't written in too long, and need a good subject to start the entry out with.
Until then I highly recommend talking to and answering yourself. It's good for the soul.
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
REAL "WINTER" WIND
Now that the holiday season is over (which, for the most part, we didn't participate in), I'm feeling not so jangley and can therefore turn my attentions back to things like blog posts.
This occasion is a good one because the last two days we were subjected to "high winds." Gusts up to 45mph. Now I have always been a fan of "extreme" weather, but given my anxiety over the "auditory hallucination" of the wind aspect concerning a certain winter storm that's not happening (supposedly), it suddenly dawned on me that my wife, Lauren, is afraid of high winds.
As it turned out, I was able to comfort her (as well as the cats) because the winds we were getting weren't the "right" ones. For one thing, although it was accompanied by a good bit of rain, there was certainly no rain "storm." The melody of the winds were wrong because it wasn't cold enough and it was too warm for snow. In fact, for me it was a respite because the real winds prohibitated me from hearing the "other" winds.
And there was a new discovery concerning our pup, Elfie, which was totally unexpected. Here, our mighty fearless "cannibal hunter" dog (who is unphased by loud noises such as thunder and fireworks, who takes no notice of pouring rain she might be standing in, and who loves finding water frozen into ice in various vessels we have throughout out yard so she can pull chunks out and eat them at every opportunity) is afraid of high winds like everyone else in the family but me.
This wind event in no way disturbed me and I rather enjoyed it.
But it's over now... and there is nothing to mask the sound of that other wind that I'm not supposed to be hearing...
This occasion is a good one because the last two days we were subjected to "high winds." Gusts up to 45mph. Now I have always been a fan of "extreme" weather, but given my anxiety over the "auditory hallucination" of the wind aspect concerning a certain winter storm that's not happening (supposedly), it suddenly dawned on me that my wife, Lauren, is afraid of high winds.
As it turned out, I was able to comfort her (as well as the cats) because the winds we were getting weren't the "right" ones. For one thing, although it was accompanied by a good bit of rain, there was certainly no rain "storm." The melody of the winds were wrong because it wasn't cold enough and it was too warm for snow. In fact, for me it was a respite because the real winds prohibitated me from hearing the "other" winds.
And there was a new discovery concerning our pup, Elfie, which was totally unexpected. Here, our mighty fearless "cannibal hunter" dog (who is unphased by loud noises such as thunder and fireworks, who takes no notice of pouring rain she might be standing in, and who loves finding water frozen into ice in various vessels we have throughout out yard so she can pull chunks out and eat them at every opportunity) is afraid of high winds like everyone else in the family but me.
This wind event in no way disturbed me and I rather enjoyed it.
But it's over now... and there is nothing to mask the sound of that other wind that I'm not supposed to be hearing...
Monday, December 12, 2016
THE CAPED CRUSADERS
So sorry for the delay... Lots of "stuff" that we needed to take care of...
Some of the stuff has been related to my counselor and my shrink (why do they call them that?). My counselor, Mr High (and yes, that's real last name) is a couple of years older than me and is a hard core Vickings fan (and that subject has never come up). He has nested nicely in his office and is totally cool. And his cool vibe sort of wraped around me (like my guitar does when I play it). During our first session he had me run down the details of why I was there. He didn't raise an eyebrow at any thing I said (though he typed a ton of notes into my file). He then wanted to make sure I was not suicidal. By then, my time was up. However, having seen him more than once, the pattern seems to be him starting by asking about my major malfunctions before he opens the floor to general conversations that help him to get to know me. He never interupts me but does ask questions about said subject or will tell me a story about someone he knows who went through something simular. He also answers my questions without reserve. Simply put, I love this guy.
Then there is my shrink, "The Undertaker." I've given him this title because the first time I met him, I was introduced to a tall (at least 6 feet), white haired man, wearing a black suit and white shirt. His face showed no emotion other than most funeral home personel have when you go to see them for the first time. Think Lurch from The Addams Family, except ALIVE. Plus his real last name rhymed with Undertaker.
The Undertakers office was smaller than Mr. Highs was. Uniformly decorated with nothing personal there to give his patients a clue to about him. Not even family pictures on his desk. The result was a sterile environment which felt both cold and scientificy (alas, my first experience of being a newly discovered insect species sitting on a glass slide, looking up at a giant eyeball).
Anyway, I went through the basic stuff I had already gone through with Mr High. But in The Undertakers case I probably only got to finish about 15 to 20% of my sentences which were answers to questions he had asked in the first place. He also never smiled which made me determined to find the chink in his armor.
He seemed to focus on the audtory hallucinations. The winter storm one specifically. And this is where he started on my second session. We got into a small debate about whether or not alternate dimensions even existed. I told him that the issue wasn't whether or not this could even be a thing. The issue was fear I had because I couldn't see it. So he shifted attention to "seeing things." I told him I was aware of and often could often see into other dimentions. He asked me how long this had been going on. My answer? "Since 1992 when my buddy Skip and I had a close encounter in eastern Kentucky." He asked me to describe that experience. I began, he asked 5 more question in quick succession (which was easy for him since I didn't get more than 5 words out on any of them before being asked again. Looking back on this, I think he wanted to see if I was aware that I was making this up. 6 questions about the same subject but not related directy to the other questions. Since I answered all of them without hesitation, I think he at least believed that I believed it. 10 minutes later my time was up. I asked him if he was a believer. He asked about what. "UFOs," I replied. By this time we here both standing to leave. He shook his head, no. But then he did something I found interesting... He put his hand on my shoulder and asked if I'd seen "Close Encounters" (which, amazingly, I have not). He then gently squeezed my shoulder, SMILED, and leaned down to make eye contact with me when he then answered, "THAT's a great movie." Of course Lauren and I are determined to see it before my next session. The exchange there was so crytic, but I got the feeling that the real answer (or at least a clue) to my question would be there.
I think I may have found the outer chink.
LATER GATORS!
Some of the stuff has been related to my counselor and my shrink (why do they call them that?). My counselor, Mr High (and yes, that's real last name) is a couple of years older than me and is a hard core Vickings fan (and that subject has never come up). He has nested nicely in his office and is totally cool. And his cool vibe sort of wraped around me (like my guitar does when I play it). During our first session he had me run down the details of why I was there. He didn't raise an eyebrow at any thing I said (though he typed a ton of notes into my file). He then wanted to make sure I was not suicidal. By then, my time was up. However, having seen him more than once, the pattern seems to be him starting by asking about my major malfunctions before he opens the floor to general conversations that help him to get to know me. He never interupts me but does ask questions about said subject or will tell me a story about someone he knows who went through something simular. He also answers my questions without reserve. Simply put, I love this guy.
Then there is my shrink, "The Undertaker." I've given him this title because the first time I met him, I was introduced to a tall (at least 6 feet), white haired man, wearing a black suit and white shirt. His face showed no emotion other than most funeral home personel have when you go to see them for the first time. Think Lurch from The Addams Family, except ALIVE. Plus his real last name rhymed with Undertaker.
The Undertakers office was smaller than Mr. Highs was. Uniformly decorated with nothing personal there to give his patients a clue to about him. Not even family pictures on his desk. The result was a sterile environment which felt both cold and scientificy (alas, my first experience of being a newly discovered insect species sitting on a glass slide, looking up at a giant eyeball).
Anyway, I went through the basic stuff I had already gone through with Mr High. But in The Undertakers case I probably only got to finish about 15 to 20% of my sentences which were answers to questions he had asked in the first place. He also never smiled which made me determined to find the chink in his armor.
He seemed to focus on the audtory hallucinations. The winter storm one specifically. And this is where he started on my second session. We got into a small debate about whether or not alternate dimensions even existed. I told him that the issue wasn't whether or not this could even be a thing. The issue was fear I had because I couldn't see it. So he shifted attention to "seeing things." I told him I was aware of and often could often see into other dimentions. He asked me how long this had been going on. My answer? "Since 1992 when my buddy Skip and I had a close encounter in eastern Kentucky." He asked me to describe that experience. I began, he asked 5 more question in quick succession (which was easy for him since I didn't get more than 5 words out on any of them before being asked again. Looking back on this, I think he wanted to see if I was aware that I was making this up. 6 questions about the same subject but not related directy to the other questions. Since I answered all of them without hesitation, I think he at least believed that I believed it. 10 minutes later my time was up. I asked him if he was a believer. He asked about what. "UFOs," I replied. By this time we here both standing to leave. He shook his head, no. But then he did something I found interesting... He put his hand on my shoulder and asked if I'd seen "Close Encounters" (which, amazingly, I have not). He then gently squeezed my shoulder, SMILED, and leaned down to make eye contact with me when he then answered, "THAT's a great movie." Of course Lauren and I are determined to see it before my next session. The exchange there was so crytic, but I got the feeling that the real answer (or at least a clue) to my question would be there.
I think I may have found the outer chink.
LATER GATORS!
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