Here We Go Again

Monday, May 10, 2010 – 3:40 P.M.
In addition to trying to wish most people happy Mother's Day yesterday, I suspect that I used part of the time to test the waters in an effort to see if I was still welcome around here. Since most of the day has passed, and no one has told me to, "Get out of here," or informed me that I was no longer wanted here, I must assume that I passed my self-imposed test.
Most of my life has remained pretty much as it had been when I was last here on a regular basis -- chaotic. There is usually something happening to keep me overstressed, upset, disturbed, frustrated, and depressed just to name a few things. That is usually pretty much the status quo.
In the last lengthy journal entry I made, I told about a number of things that were happening in my life, none of which was very good. Almost all of that still holds true today.
My wheelchair has been worked on a number of times, yet the repairs made to it were not long lasting. In fact, another "final" repair is due to be made this coming Thursday afternoon between one and 3 PM. That is not likely to happen because I have an appointment, which may last until one. I tried telling the woman doing the scheduling that, but she was in no mood to listen to me. She will just have to find out the hard way.
My front door to my apartment still opens and closes at will -- its own will, rather than mine. During the weekend, I woke up at 3 AM to the sound of my front door opening on its own. I did not think anyone was breaking in, but I remained silent just in case I was wrong. There did not seem to be any need on my part to alert someone that I was in bed awake, but somewhat groggy. I saw no need to alert an intruder to my conscious state, or lack thereof, so that the person could come and kill me. I must admit, I think I made a wise decision.
The question of a front door opening and closing whenever it seems to feel like it has been going on for somewhat more than two months. I am unable to get anywhere with my case manager, who no longer returns my phone calls. I did manage to tell Dale, my counselor at the mental health clinic, about my situation when I saw him last Monday. While I was in his office, he called my case manager and thought he had convinced her that my door needed to be fixed within two days. He told me that if it did not occur, that he wanted me to let him know last Wednesday, which I did. I phoned and told him that I had not heard a thing from my case manager, and my door was still on what I call "autopilot."
He promised that he would take care of everything for me, which I am sure he will do as long as he does not forget in the meantime. Forgetting seems to be one of his bad habits. I am seeing Dr. Martin tomorrow afternoon. I will bring it to her attention once again, since I had already brought her somewhat up-to-date last week. At that time, she said that she hoped my case manager did not carry through on her promise to have my door fixed that week because Dr. Martin felt that this woman needed to be taught a lesson, and that they were going to do just that. When I heard her remarks, I took a big gulp and decided to keep any further questions I might have to myself.
The problem with the air mattress on my bed has been more or less resolved. I will not go into all the details at this time because I am not sure I can do that without having a nervous breakdown. Promises were made, and promises were broken. New equipment was brought out to my apartment, and some of the new equipment never worked to begin with.
I spent an entire weekend with a brand-new pump connected to my old mattress. The only thing that did (other than to give me a very sore and painful body from the neck all the way down to the toes) was to make me feel as if I was sleeping on either a pile of bricks or a slab of concrete. Either way you look at it, I was definitely very uncomfortable.
It seems to me that much of this involved a situation where no one knew exactly who was in control and, beyond that, what I could or could not have according to my insurance. I became so stressed out that one day my doctor's social worker called me by phone (we usually communicate by e-mail) and although she told me who she was and that she worked for my doctor, I had absolutely no idea who I was talking with until we were in the middle of a conversation regarding my mattress. I am sure that she picked up on my mental situation, because she quickly offered to take over handling everything for me. I gratefully accepted her offer.
As that situation now stands, my old air mattress pump is connected to a new air mattress because the old one no longer works, nor does the new pump. Now if that sentence confuses anyone, just try and imagine what countless repetitions of that has done to my mental state.
I am still having the original back pain, along with the pain from the pulled muscle in the lower right side of my back, as well as with new pain stemming from my neck, shoulders, hips, knees, and feet. I told my physical therapist (who I am now seeing once a week) that I would like to have a complete body transplant. Since she good-naturedly laughed at me, I guess that means it is not going to happen. Oh well.
The one thing that has been added to my regimen in addition to the physical therapy is that my CNA's now get me out of my wheelchair one hour a day, for four days each week, in an effort to relieve the pressure that is being placed on my spine. My physical therapist wanted me to do this when she was working with me about two years ago. I refused at that time. Sometimes, extreme pain has a way of making me look at things differently. Such was the case when she brought it up to me again this year. I quickly gave in even though I knew it would be of no help to me. Okay, I may have been wrong about the help bit, but it will practically kill me to admit that I was wrong!



\"I suspect that I used part of the time to test the waters in an effort to see if I was still welcome around here. \"

Do I really have to come out there and Gibbs-smack you?

Sorry you\'ve had so many \'technical difficulties\' for so long. I can come out there and Gibbs-smack others too, if you want.

Hugs and Mojo

Hi Jim Boy Things sure have been happening in your life lately, My sister tells me I certainly have lots of Drama in my life for someone who barely leaves the house, Things just happen I guess. I don\'t know We sure don\'t ask for all this Stuff to go on, Wonder if these things happen to other people too. Try to hang in there and relax. hugs-Stephanie

I think you must have refused the physical therapy two years ago because at that time, it was too scary. I can relate because two years ago, I was referred to confrontational group therapy. I couldn\'t go.

This journal is full of signs that you have gained mental strength over the last couple of years. I don\'t think you would have survived this door crap two years ago. Or the mattress crap.

Whatever it takes to keep you writing, I\'m all for. Your writings will ALWAYS be welcome in my world.

I\'ll be asking the universe to ensure the added physical therapy is helpful. More strength means more writing.

It was good to see you back. what the heck is going on with wheelchair, maybe they need to give you an updated wheelchair or something, Good Lord! I hope that the new therapy of taking you out of the wheel chair for sometime to ease the strain on your spine works, even if it does prove you wrong. Sorry about the body transplant thing, \"Darn\"

The mattress thing was confusing, and I can imagine having to be the one trying to explain the problem over and over, and of course nobody is listening closely enough to get it right.
Good to hear from you

Good grief !
You surely are having a multitude of problems in your living space.
I hope Dr. Martin really does teach that woman a lesson.
Having your door open and close at will is not only dangerous, but it is very distracting for you.
Restful sleep is so important for you.
I sure hope this an other problems are resolved to your liking in the very near future.