Well, okay.

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I am actually breathing easier this morning. While it isn't perfect it is actually much improved. I slept fairly well, and nearly a full night. My attempts to squeeze a little more shut-eye out of the pillow came to naught. I was able to get up fairly easily and pretty much without chest pain caused by having a chest full of liquid. I didn't have to take it slow or easy, though doing much more than that will still probably require a bit of a light touch until I can get back on my feet, if that actually is possible. I still become a bit short of breath from a combination of light activities. It sure beats having panting attacks just sitting. Since I am going back on a diuretic, I will go back on the heart medicine and potassium. For the first week that is all I am going to try and balance. Toward the end of the week, depending on needs and how Gatorade is working, I may go back on the other supplements. If I am having problems, I may just cut the dose of the diuretic and call someone... if I'm not in too bad of shape to... get right on that.

I was simply too tired after everything yesterday to remember to investigate the term "congestive heart failure". While it has some meaning, some specific qualifiers, it is just as vague as the term "headache". And worse, getting any real grip on the thing is impossible. It seems as if doctors and authors like using terms to their advantage. If they think you are afraid of death, why then the thing is down right terminal if you don't follow their instructions to the letter. If you overreact or balk at death threats, well then the disease merely becomes something you ought to, as a moral condition for living, tend. Like women, I don't even think doctors themselves know the truth anymore.

A visit to cardiology and finding one doctor there or at my primary clinic to lead the treatment and give me a top-down assessment, and then making sure there is follow up so when I can't be compliant and am perhaps too exhausted to be a squeaky wheel I don't just slip away is about all I can try to arrange. Hey, if I can pull another half a life out of these bones, so long as there is some meat with the soup of life juice, I'll do it. Might even start looking for a hen, one that lays live young. Of course, maybe through out this thing, they can help me to more function beside just better health. Why I bother hoping on this stuff, I just can't be sure. But if they are going to promise Christmas treats and presents, I might as well ask if I can stay for dinner, nyet? Well, it is a plan.

Today is merely a day of recovery. I will try to get some of those home things on my list. Laundry languishes, dishes rebel, basic upkeep would be good. But if I can just have a day of relative rest and relaxation and not choke on my own breathe, I might just enjoy it without much muss or fuss. I'll fight when I can but I've just fought for breathe for a week. Nothing like being in a foxhole with an elephant stuck in there with you to wear you down a bit. Oh, wait, it was a RINO! Bah!

It is raining this morning, again. Oh cheer. Still, I really don't care. As long as I don't have to literally swim, let it pour. Me and the other cats will just hide out and chase whatever tails we see when we get bored. Have a good day, or a great one if you really have to!

???

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I made it in, after having a large meal at McDonald. I was starving. They did an x-ray, a CT-Scan, and another where they wired me up. Some blood testing was done. And then they watched my vitals for a while. Even after that huge meal, my blood sugar as tested through the finger vampire yielded only 160! I could easily say 40 of that could be removed because of the meal. How much else could be removed from having a couple of sodas before heading out in order to head out? Long story short, I seem to be in excellent condition. I seem to be suffering from congestive heart failure. Assuming the reason for the congestive heart failure can be found and treated, I am told I will do quite well, living every bit as long as anyone else. Further, I am told nothing vital is out of order. The issues found are mild and probably quite correctable. I was given an order for diuretics and sent home. They can do nothing else for the breathing. Isn't congestive heart failure, well... a really bad thing? I am going to look it up. I thought I had. If so, I must have forgotten whatever I read. Every other doctor says I am dying or conversely to begin planning for the next half of my life. And they call ME bipolar.

Hey, didn't I just see this show? This time, when they added the liquid form of the diuretic to my injection site, I ended up voiding 24 ounces there and probably another 10 to 14 ounces when I returned home. I can't say I feel better. Well, the headache is back. When I complained about the conditions regarding taking the diuretic I was told I would be put on a lesser dose and sort of told those conditions shouldn't recur, if they do just call back in. Arriving home I compared apples to apples. Same dosage, one was generic and one was brand name, both were prescribed at their lowest dosages. Well, I will try again. I now have supplements to take along with it, if I can keep it all going.

I also stopped to pick up my new scripts and do some shopping while I was at it. I now have gatorade, as well as milk, a bit of bread, and some meats. Even if I can't get to the dishes soon, yesterday while I was out and smoking my pipe I lit the grill up and burned it clean. I can begin using that to some degree. I also grabbed a few other odds and ends.

My breathing, actually, might be better. Only slightly and I will see in how well I sleep. I do, however, now have a pretty horrible headache. I took a few pills for that. Pills pills, the more you... Never... mind. The headache could be from the sudden voiding of so much fluid. It might also be from shopping. I had to go slow, pick things up and place them gently, and take my time needing to catch my breathe ever so often. I also kept my mother apprised, calling here when I went in and shortly after returning home.

I don't think they understand. This is probably as close to being waterboarded as one could legally get, at this point. The difference? I don't know when this will end, or if it will end. I will try to contact my primary tomorrow, and cardiology as well. I need much closer follow-ups in any case, or I will drop the medicines again. If I have issues with the medicine, they have to be able to suggest something besides "Just keep taking it, you'll be fine. Those blisters on your lips and tongue, and the cramps, will all magically get better and go away". Gah! What a mess I am in. At least, according to the most recent accounts, I am not really dying... probably.

Oh, I am not editing this, at all, tonight. I am dead dog tired and I need to sleep. I can't focus at the moment. I hope it makes some kind of sense. Good night.

It took a bit to call.

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I couldn't get my brain screwed up tight. I have to have some clarity of thought and an ability to speak before I will place a call, even one like this. Actually, more so one like this. All I wanted was advice, possibly a medicinal option, to be honest. Perhaps they might have just suggested head stands or something. At worst, I thought they might ask me to drive to SLC. And, I might have if it would have been in and out. It's tight enough being out as is, but being out for four or five hours on top of driving two hours each way would not be doable at the moment. I thought I might have to threaten them with going into the local ER. Bah!

She told me to call 911. Stubborn to the end, I won't. I will, somehow, take a shower. Then I will drive in and put some food into my face and pick up some tobacco. Groceries, of course, will wait. Then I will go to the ER. I would take my friend along but that is one of the most drawn out, boring, nasty tasks available and I won't drag him into it. I also will not stay unless they promise to either offer relief or let me go in the morning after trying and failing. Then again, if they are like every one else I have seen, I will hear something high blood pressure something, you are going to die, take these magic pills (same old same old) and we will give you some others later, goodbye. Just fragging help me breathe! Dang, it can't be that hard. Oh, one thing I will pick up when I buy tobacco, to be sure to remember it, is gatorade. Dehydration comes up often when looking at many of my issues. I have stopped the diuretic and am on supplements, but I may still be critically low on some things. I am sure I am still low on potassium.

Oh well. Don't you hate it when you hit the ground running with an extremely aggressive plan only to find your plan is considered mild and a bit dated? Who knew? Talk about going out with a raincoat, flashing on the mind, and a real intent... only to somehow find oneself in a nudist colony. So, in I go... after a little bit of grooming. Later.

Being unable to sleep makes it hard to think.

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I just saw a study where a number of adults, who believed they could cut their sleep from a standard eight hours to various levels (but the goal was to cut three hours of sleep from the baseline). Some end up not cutting any time, some only cutting one, some others cut two, and still others cut three hours from their sleep schedule. People only cut what they were or became comfortable with. After then being tested before, during, and after the cuts, it became absolutely clear that digging into one's sleep is akin to having a shot or two every hour and insisting everything is just fine. While it may feel fine, it isn't. I am so far from feeling fine I can barely talk sometimes. It is simply that I cannot get to sleep or stay asleep. That is about 90% of my problem since I left the service, it simply isn't bipolar. I either can't sleep or I don't sleep well.

My problem, right now, is that I can sleep even less regularly than usual. This make figuring things out a bit difficult. I have realized doctors are absolute idiots. Perhaps they were trying to use this issue to break me down so that I would go back on one, the other, or both of their failed medicinal regimens from the past. That isn't going to happen. I now realize what the problem is. My diaphragm is cramping. My stomach is hard as a rock, I can't press in with my hands. Do 50 to a 100 setups and you will get an idea of what I am talking about. My abdomen is in a state of near permanent cramp. I need them to figure out what will allow that to release. The problem, even with one to two liters of fluid in each lung, is not the lungs. I am forced to take short breaths and don't get much air in. I will be calling the ER today, hopefully to speak to a doctor whose head is out of his butt or whose head I can pull out of his butt. Pain pills, of any kind, do not work. But I am sure something would help. I am almost wondering if that cramping by itself is enough to cause (or allow) the pulmonary edema and it certainly doesn't help any other condition.

I need sleep, I need rest, I need easier breathing, and I don't think it is all that difficult. I actually think some of them know what the problem is, how to fix it, but aren't doing so. They need me for procedures, that is how they fund the various clinics. I hope if the funding changes for medicare go through, success versus procedure based funding, that the V.A. is given a solid review as well.

I didn't get to much yesterday. I have soaked the dishes a number of times but never quite got to them. Though I felt good for a short while, the cramping returned, finding sleep has been brutal, and it's just been too rough. If the doc can offer something, I will drive down today to pick it up. If he gets all squirrely, I might have to suggest that, with shortness of breath and their seeming inability to deal with it, I might not be able to drive that far so I might have to go to the local ER, perhaps by ambulance. While we would all be sad to see the V.A. not make a dime off my care, and actually have to pay out some unGodly sum, some things might just have to be dealt with as they may. If the V.A. doesn't care to get involved, maybe someone else will.

By the way, in spite of various complaints about the local medical collective, if socialist seeming, I have it on good authority that it is a rather solid system of health care. I have heard it listed with Mayo and a few others. At least there is that. But then, and again, in spite of my complaints and such, I think I had indicated (when they can stay on topic) that they offer top notch service. (If I still think government run will always end up in the toilet, it's always one election or bribe or legal difficulty away.)

Anyway, have a great day. Hey, buddy, could you spare a breathe?

Whatever works.

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My morning was a morning of whiplash, too tired to stay awake so constantly fighting constant nodding off and yet having lungs too full, chest fullness pain, and some other stuff to sleep. After four or six hours of that I finally surrendered and tried to sleep again. It took a good bit to find a comfortable position. Actually, I never found one. Instead, sleep found me, surrounded me. Four more hours of sleep saw me up and somewhat rested.

Why my lungs are full now but not later, when they fill and how? None of my business I guess. All I know is that I am at best able to sit without panting, at worst I am panting, unable to sleep, needing sleep, and unable to find any comfort. What I take in the way of medication has zero effect, other than adding side effects. Is the medical field completely incompetent, is my body just too different, or... what? I will say that having quit everything but the Flinstones chewable, my life is much more comfortable. I was drowning in a dozen minor but quite annoying side effects on top of not finding one ounce of relief. As is, all I have to deal with is my breathing problems. While that is bad enough, adding in side effects is like being beaten by a main attacker while being kicked and pinched by his girlfriend.

Another oddity is that, since I ran out of long cut snuff I have taken to smoking my pipe. I usually keep a bag or two of various smoke around, just for such situations. While I feared smoking would aggravate my breathing problems, between my inability to get my butt in gear and my addiction, the pipe has become a regular use item. As I said, my breathing is not at all bothered. The only change I can tell is that my coughing, which had become progressively worse and worsened my breathing from time to time, has vanished. When I make it into town, beside picking up some replacement pipe tobacco, I will be buying leaf chewing tobacco. I think with my dehydration, the grains of even long cut snuff aggravate my throat by drying into place along the throat and becoming an constant irritant. Just plain odd.

Feeling better after the nap, if still having problems, I have opened the windows, set dishes to soak, started a bit of picking up, and will be doing a few tasks that need attention. I don't know how far I can get. Pushing past the exhaustion doesn't get me anything but trouble. If I can just find a very slow pace that is sustainable to some point I might actually get some things done. I am considering tools that might help me. For laundry, for example, a cart to pull the laundry baskets rather than bending, lifting, carrying, setting down. It seems like a minute difference, but every ounce of effort has to be considered. I am so used to, when I do something, just full force doing it, that this is taking some adjustment. I hate it. I used to do four loads of laundry as fast as I could. My only problem with getting that all done at once was remembering to get to them.

If I can get a load of dishes done, collect recyclables, and see one load of laundry through, I may try to bribe myself into town with the promise of an easy meal. I need a bit of tobacco, a little milk, perhaps some bread, and apples, oranges, and pears would be good. I may become a member of Sam's Club online this weekend. I keep... thinking that over. One advantage to them is, I could order online and pick up the order the next day. All I would have to do is back up my vehicle to the loading area and drive home with enough for a couple of weeks of eating. And all of that food would last should my lack of ability to eat, cook, and clean remain in effect. Further, adding to that slightly over time would be quite simple. Perhaps this is not the best or cheapest way to load up on a couple of months worth of food, but at this time, in my condition, it is probably as good as it gets.

Of course, something else that might be helping is warmer weather. I honestly don't think the doctors have a clue as to what is really wrong. They see the high blood pressure and stop thinking perhaps. Much as they used to see a mental health diagnosis and then quit looking for any health issues. Apparently either those with a diagnosis are not capable of physical ailments or those ailments are secondary to psychology no matter what or someone with a psychiatric diagnosis can only be healed by liver damaging psychotropics or people with a mental health issue (real or not) are not worth treating. I know some of you actually believe in psychological and psychiatric voodoo, I don't. I am having difficulty finding validity in standard medicine. I think they not only could, but would, diagnose a cat with depression, if they thought it was as lucrative. Wait... don't they?

Have a good day. Later.

Some nights are simply awful.

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I can't tell why one night can see me finding sleep and then sleeping through the night and other nights being brutal. I was quite tired last night. I have been working on my schedule, trying to wake early and stay up until evening. It has been easier since sleeping is sometimes painful and sleeping beyond pretty much a bare minimum almost impossible as the pain becomes seemingly exponentially more painful every hour beyond some point.

I was having trouble even getting to sleep. Having, for the most part, given up on even Tylenol I could not get to sleep. My ribs and diaphragm simply hurt and breathing was nearly impossible. After a few hours of trying, I finally relented and took 2k of Tylenol. I still had to fight for an hour, after waiting an half hour before trying to sleep to give the medicine time to work, before I could settle in. About four hours later, I woke in the same condition I had initially started with. I could not find a position which eased the pain enough or allowed me to breath enough to sleep. After an hour or two trying to get back to sleep I took more Tylenol. Eventually I returned to sleep, waking just three hours later. Tired as I am I had to simply abandon hopes of real sleep last night. I would love to nod off, anywhere that might be comfortable, but as soon as I do, I end up waking as I end up shifting into a terribly painful position or into a position where my breathing becomes an issue again.

So far I only get nights like this one or two times in a row and then I catch a break. I never sleep well though, not really well. Once or twice a week I will sleep through the night and almost feel rested in the morning. Lack of sleep, like this, won't kill me. It might add stress to other problems. At this point, everything is doing that. I wish I knew what allowed things to get better and what to avoid. Then again, I couldn't avoid much more as I do, eat, and drink so very little. Even if I wanted to add activity, that isn't really possible. All I know is that it sucks to wake up choking for air and not being able to get it.

Later.

It was a thought.

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There for a bit I almost thought I could get to town. Time passed and nothing happened. Getting up to feed the cats a couple times (I feed them half their feed, wait an half hour, then give them the rest in the hopes that Sam won't barf) I found myself completely exhausted and winded. After that let up, I did call the clinic. I want something to ease the breathing, some kind of medical prognosis, or... something. All I connected with was a message service though. I will be surprised if I hear anything back any time soon. No other calls have been returned, from any of a number of people, lately.

If I get to any kind of function, and can concentrate, I am hoping to do the laundry and dishes this weekend. If I was often tired before, I am constantly tired and distracted now. I can't seem to make heads or tails out of anything, and initiative ends with little done save sucking in air for a half hour and a deeper misunderstanding of my environs. If it only gets worse from here, it might not be bad. I will be back to Nothingsville. I won't see it coming.

I keep seeing stories about how people are, statistics about this and that, and I see the shallowness most people posses. Of course, I have to wonder if shallow is the right word, or empty fits better in many cases. Is it that people want to do something or be with someone in order to become something they aren't even sure they would really want to be or is it that they just follow some people without ever thinking about it? How much of the population simply surrenders? How many just go along with whatever? What is the critical number where concerned, principled, thinkers are so overwhelmed that they are first side-lined and then actively hunted? Questions indeed.

On the good side, should I be of the latter type, if the critical number has been exceeded, and if marginalization have already occurred and the hunt is now on... For me it will be a short hunt. A defended position will always fail, but it beats failing AND being out of breath in the open! See, I can be an optimist!

Good day.

Now that's just silly.

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A couple of bowls of smoke later and... no effect. I had thought the stuff might make me choke for air. Oh, well, I do know how to smoke a pipe so as to not choke. The problem is, I don't smoke that way. *grins* Without a filter, that smokes goes straight down the tubes into the pipes. Actually, I think smoking has cut the coughing back a decent little bit. Does any part of my anatomy work the way it is supposed to work? Ah well. I think I will have another bowl. Actually, since I sort of gave up on medicine and started smoking, I think I am almost ready to shower and take a trip into town. I almost hate to write this, and I don't write it with a straight face at all but... Who knew!

Later.

They have names for everything.

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I was curious about that dry clicking bubbling sound was, what might be the actual direct cause, and just looking to know more about whatever is taking place. These, as I understand things, are called the rales or simply rales (there is a difference, if sometimes having "the" or not is a matter of tradition). While I found little out other than it's name, what "wheezing" actually means, and that it all ties back into everything else that is wrong, at least I know a bit more. I have decided to call my doctor, for sure, today. Through the morning I would like to work up a bit of a note, sketch out what I want answered and the few specific questions I have.

I have not heard back from cardiology. I have not heard back from the insurance agency. I may have to follow up with those today, if I can get to it. I never did get to laundry or the dishes. I need some kind of bare minimum of some things to be able to function. I don't even know what those things are, I just know there is a limit and if I am under it I can't work. For phone calls, one of my known limits is the ability to speak and think clearly. While I can write easily and pretty much always (within variances), vocalization is not always available. It may be how my mind works, that vocalization takes more physical energy, or that living alone I lose practice speaking. I do know there are times where I shouldn't call. I actually called Dillon in spite of knowing better, but business with them had little to do with money and was supposed to be a simple call. It ended up being messy because the guy was a bit of jerk, my breathing made for a slower conversation, and I really probably was too tired to be pushing a conversation. I waited for a bit before calling the next on the list.

I did make some cereal this morning. One of the few clean pans was used. I made enough for seconds, thirds, and fourths, if reheating works. Tasty. It's been a while since I've really been on the meat, whole grain, and bean regimen. As my health failed, keeping up failed. I have been out of milk for a week or two, I am about to run out of soda, and I ran out of tobacco last night. Normally I would pull out my pipe if my ability was at a low ebb so that I couldn't get to town for more of my snuff, and that would see me through. As is I would no more risk a smoke than I would go for a long swim. Hmm, actually, the pipe might just do. Addictions are, indeed, addictions. If I hack too much on it, that might provide incentive to get snuff (and milk, and... other stuff). I suppose I am going to be grumpy or hacking until I can get out. My next appointment isn't until the 9th, since I am not eating I don't need food, only the need for cat food might see me in town before the 9th.

Well, on to... something.

While dying slowly and painfully...

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As I find my capacity to do just about anything more strenuous than feeding the cats or moving from chair to chair becoming a literal burden I can't bear. As the pains and various symptoms of my illness progress without being able to find any way to temper them. As my lungs slowly lose their ability to pull in enough air until I nearly choke out pushing beyond the first two. I realize there are some other things to contemplate.

First, because of the breathing, I can simply not avoid whistling while I work! If I fill a basket full of clothing and carry that to the washing machine, I am whistling like a steam engine with a full head on. While it is true, I carry no tune and have no means of adjusting it as I am simply trying to avoid passing out, I know I shouldn't be picky. As well, despite my own interest in being active, I know most people would love a little break from life. Most people are too busy. They might not like how they would get the break, but again, I am being picky. And more, I am learning more about the human anatomy and pathology than I had thought possible since the topic is of little interest to me. As something in my throat clicks every time I breathe, I have become my own little time piece. Click, click, click. Ah, time to get going! And finally, without much effort, I can emulate Darth Vader! Luke, *air intake sound* I am your father. *air intake sound* There are some advantages to being in my condition, if I can just step back enough to look at the frame while avoiding the little and bit pictures.

On another topic, I remember a woman writing about how another woman left her husband. There was something about the wife loving the husband dearly, but then he became dominant and masculine, so the wife seemingly had no Christian choice but to divorce him. I don't think I commented at the time as it was a he-said, she-said, and further one step removed from me beyond that. Now I have to say, I have never heard such foolishness in my life. Not only did the wife do the wrong thing, she did it for the wrong reason. I am sure God might forgive her, should she ever even think to consider that she was wrong and ask for it. But that doesn't mean she shouldn't have been scolded by "many". Christ didn't shed His blood for all, therefore I don't expect all to understand. But the many, yes, I do expect that. It's been bugging me, and since I might be dying, I decided to finally spit it out.

On to the rest of my day. *air intake sound* Ah, it's time to go whistle! Good day.

Out of curiosity...

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How many of you are able to use the majority of what you buy, and while it is still in optimal condition, with regards to groceries? No matter how much care I have given that concern, food often goes to waste. While I will admit, the greatest ability I have to lend to any task like grocery shopping combined with meal planning is rather weak, I have to wonder how many people even try to combine the two in the first place any more. Who needs to make sure baking soda is fresh, the lettuce and carrots in the crisper are used before they go limp (or green(er)), or even that meat is portioned for use or the freezer rightly with restaurants everywhere? Who needs to plan for meals when it probably is nearly cheaper and definitely easier to eat out even twice a day? I suppose the depression has caused some people into austerity measures, but enough of such to actually *gulp* cook?

Anyway, for those of you who do plan shopping and meal prep... How? Were you taught this growing up, did you learn it mostly as a young adult on your own, or did it fit as you found a mate and maybe then started to childrenify? I would love to get some of that down. I can cook but I had to leave the Jedi school of food prep for the dark side because of my disinterest crossed with my inability to keep dishes up and plan meals and shopping as a single step. I am not sure what a healthy home meal really is supposed to be, either, actually. A steak, and maybe a potato if they were somehow remembered, with sour cream and butter, and milk. Everything else is sort of, you know, stuff that mostly goes together. Oh sure, if I am buying spaghetti I will pick up marinara of some sort, and ground beef. If I buy cans of tuna, I will make sure I have mayonnaise and bread. But uhm, yeah. That honestly is about the depths of my level of planning.

By the way, I do think that, in time, if the real historians separate themselves from the majority academic socialists hack historians and write (then protect) real history, I do believe it will eventually be realized we are not facing a double dip. Any seeming increase in the economy, any recovery people currently see, will merely be realized as the U.S. government (among many governments) putting currency into the furnace to stay warm for a little bit. The governments are literally burning, destroying, real wealth in some insane hope of... something. At this point, I doubt if they know why. They are merely doing what everyone before them in recent history did, while trying to please certain major actors and spinning that it is good for us all. Well, that mixed with the wolves in various industries and the governments who are actively using the puppet as a host upon which to parasitically feast. When the blinders are lifted, my guess is that SS and Medicare are so insolvent, given the rest, that boomers can't be spared their just deserts.

And, I do find an amazing lack of concern among even the most hard hit. Until credit is maxed, no money is coming in, and they literally find themselves on the streets (after vandalizing the home they are losing), people continue to party like it was 1999. And they think they should be able to do so. Isn't that a right as well? Absolutely amazing. Then again, and a bit in fairness, most Americans have been living so easily for so long (yes, you, if you think about it, and me too) that there almost isn't a social structure upon which to base humble means living. I would have to go back to my grandparent's generation to find people who planned meals, lived on a real budget (that couldn't really be fudged), didn't worry about wants, and who actually grew wealth. Since then we have all been spenders, consumers. We were gifted wealth in many forms and spent it on wine and loose women and worthless jewels. It is gone. This will hurt.

Just a little morning cheer. Good day.

A few things done.

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Nothing fancy. I was too late for one of the calls I had hoped to place, I lost track of a thing or two I am sure. But I did call Dillon. It seems I am missing a piece. They are sending it. I called the insurance company. The woman I am supposed to contact was not available so I left a message. My mother called to do a quick check. Rain where she is, seems to be the way of it as well. I did something else as well. Things are a bit foggy and I run out of breath quickly, a frustrating thing to be sure.

It is taking me longer to get to things, to remember them, to facilitate them. I have to push to get even the little things kicked out. I am going to try and get to a load or two of laundry tonight, and a load of dishes. I will have to go slow. I had thought I would just push through the shortness of breath. That didn't work out very well. Much like thinking if you grab and electrified fence, that you might overcome, become immune, or somehow find a trick, it never quite works. I wish I had a stool high enough to sit while I do dishes. Just standing will get to me.

I almost called the V.A., the clinic. I had thought maybe they had some other inhaler, an idea about the dehydration, and something else. I ended up putting hanging up. I am pretty sure there is little else they can really do. I mean to call about cardiology, at the main hospital. I have serious doubts, to a surety, but since it is there and all roads seem to lead there, I might as well give it a shot. Actually, while I was writing about it, I tried to make an appointment with cardiology. I could only leave a message with them as well, but it is in the works.

This is as successful as I have been in some time. I will take it for what it was worth. I will try to expand on it through a bit more work. But I have to say, this is getting really old really fast. I don't know how really sick people do it? I guess they do it the same way I do, one breathe at a time. Good day.

Cat food and food.

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A bit of research and a little comparing leaves me thinking that while Science Diet has excellent wet cat food, what it offers in dry cat food is not better than what I have. As well, the wet cat food I have chosen is better than Science Diet. The vet indicated that Science Diet does not change their ingredients, while other manufactures do and are allowed to do so as long as they return to the original recipe within a (rather long) period of time. In other words, many manufacturers cut corners. I know, a lot of fuss, especially for someone who may not need to worry for long, but this offers me a challenge. The price difference is negligible, probably depending upon where I shop as much as anything. I think I will be sticking with my picks as long as it is mine to choose. Which means one more change of wet food. The girls are already on the new dry food. Hopefully, in time, Sassy will be... rectified.

I am also considering getting back into the storage of foods. Just a little bit. I have, again, eaten most of my short term stocks. What I have of long term storage still is not stored properly. I do not wish to bring too much in, but it would be good to have enough for myself for at least a few months. Should anyone end up coming to tend my final business, I am sure they would be pleased to only have to shop for perishables. I can't go getting all fancy on this, and might end up going more with #10 cans of freeze dried foods, an assortment of canned meats, more beans and rice, and a few curiosities as I like to call fruits, vegetables, and irregular items. Plus, if I continue to have difficulty getting to the store, I at least have something in the house. Oh, soups too I suppose. I just had a can of chicken noodle. Little as I liked it, a little food does the body good. Everything tastes extremely salty though, perhaps because I am dehydrated, perhaps because my organs aren't getting rid of the right stuff fast enough.

I have reconsidered calling my doctor. I don't want to be begging for help. Often, when dealing with the government, help is not what you will get or not what you thought it should be. I am simply going to have to suffer through and hope. Since I am up and mostly both mobile and functional, I am going to begin a search for someone to tend the lawn for a bit. I am also going to call Dillon, make another business call, and check to see if I have all the paperwork necessary for another business claim.

My stomach feels like I have been in a fist fight with a fighter who held his own for a bit and knew what he was doing. My fever comes and goes, my legs are still freezing, and I still feel ill. And? No, I have to try and push through. I need to get to what I can do and pray about everything else. On another note, Sassy has been just loverly since returning from the vet. She has wanted to be around me all the time. I guess meeting other people who do odd and weird things to her has shown her that papa isn't such a bad hairless ape after all. *grins*

Later!

A little more research.

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With diuretics no longer seeming to do a thing about the fluids in the lungs, I decided to research a bit more. It is difficult to concentrate but I need to stay on this as well as I am able to do so. I looked at liver failure, and while a few things fit, most do not. Most notably missing is jaundice though there were other problems. I then looked at kidney failure. I would say there is a 90% fit, but what doesn't fit is rather important. When kidneys fail, potassium levels increase to the point where the levels themselves can be lethal.

Every attempt at pegging a diagnosis, or even a group of them, comes short. If it were a minor issue, say feverishness (which I might miss in my condition), that would be one thing. But as with lacking jaundice and actually having low potassium levels, the indications are actually counterposed to a positive diagnosis. Everything is the problem but nothing is actually the problem. At least I understand why they haven't arrived at a definitive diagnosis yet. Something, something, high blood pressure, something, give or take.

I had to take the next logical step and look at end of life "symptoms". A close fit, but not quite there either. And all of those symptoms fit into the other near diagnosis's, in pieces and parts. I simply have no idea what exactly is happening, what is next, time scale. I have nothing to work with and I am receiving no feedback at this time.

I seem to do fine when I sleep, assuming I can get to sleep. And, after waking, for the first ten or fifteen minutes, I do fine. After that I deteriorate. Breathing problems and pain come back. Neither Anacin nor Tylenol, to the amounts I have tried so far seems to help (about 2k each per dose though I will be trying more next time). Further, occasional feverishness in spite of cool skin, mild nausea or flushing of some sort, clicking while I breath in, a more regular cough and wheezing when I lose my breath, an inability to find comfort in any type of sitting or reclining position, and just an absolute ill feeling have become part of the daily routine. I think I need to call and find out if my doctor will take a call today, or at least leave a message.

I know it seems odd, but I still think this can be beat. Most of the damage can very possibly be reversed. Currently my healing is weak, due to all that is going on. But when my healing is normal, and if it can be normalized, I think I would be fine. The one caveat is that if healing is based on reducing my blood pressure, the cause is probably lost. I couldn't pray with a good conscience about this if I hadn't done everything I could and didn't continue to try. I might have, at one time, been able to lie to myself in a bold faced manner. But those days are gone. And yet, I feel no compulsion to become a living nursing home bio-lab for a medical system I see as having failed me either. Prayer, by the way, does help. It does not ease the pain or discomfort, it doesn't help with breathing, it simply makes the journey through there a little smoother somehow. And, despite my blogging of late, it really isn't all about me. God knows, I am bored of me and I have other concerns on my mind, the really important things.

It's a rough morning. I will try to sleep again if I don't have much hope for that. Still, no reason for you not to have a good day. Actually, if you can have a good day, grab it. And if you like me even a little, enjoy some of it for me. Oh, and enjoy a treat for me. I'm hungry in some odd way. No, have a great day.

It just doesn't make sense.

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Not to me. I seem unable to void fluids, despite the diuretic. While I sleep, when I can sleep, there is no way I can void fluids without waking in a anthropomorphic lake. And yet I am waking both uncongested and dry, at least until I begin waking well. As soon as I hit 'awake enough to get my bearings if not be comfortable about it', my lungs begin to flood again, a bit at a time, until I am forced out of bed. I can fight it for various lengths of time, but staying in bed is pretty much futile. As soon as I wake up, the gig is up.

I took 2k mg of Tylenol before trying to sleep last night. I had been fighting the breathing all day, and losing. The various pains had become a bit more than troubling. The pain pills initially seemed to have zero affect. I attempted to sleep at about 15:00, quite exhausted. I rolled around for two hours or more, with little hope I would do more than rest for a bit before, as has happened for the last several days, I would be forced out of bed just to breathe. I can't say exactly when it happened but... I finally slept. Perhaps Tylenol finally worked, perhaps my body just became too tired to fight, perhaps something else happened. Now, waking at 22:00 or so left me, at best, with five hours of sleep. But it has been days since I got more than two hours actual sleep I think. The number has been dwindling from four to three to less and less. I guess five hours will do.

I did wake, and again begin choking on breathing as I became more awake. But after sitting up I find my lungs, again, relatively open. The other pains and aches have been relieved. I guess I didn't think things would get better any more. I am not sure which is worse, having my head stuck under water until I just succumb and drown or whether getting a break now and then as I slowly starve for oxygen and die. Well, okay, I know which is worse. But if it buys me a little time and the health to manage a few things before I die, and while I can do a few things, the latter works. At some point it is going to become quite tiresome, and more.

I don't know whether to laugh or lament what I just realized. I suppose it depends on a couple of factors though I think laughter is my current disposition, lamentation would be from prior understandings. At a time when suicide might actually be warranted (in the secular vein, of course, and mind you), I could and would no more use it to "ease my suffering" than I would bed a loose woman or beat Sam or Sassy because of my pain. A capacity not many have, when finally allowed by the world, is no longer useful. While the capacity remains a stronger belief in the sanctity of life overrides the will to use the capacity. I don't think it classifies as ironic, merely funny.

My lungs are not actually clear. It is merely that I can sit up without panting, an improvement. The toll exacted from feeding the cats just now reminds me that very little activity can cause me to pant again. This is going to be a slow and ugly death, and painful. On the bright cheery side, you get to read about it! If as many people out there truly hate me as I suspect, this process should be a joy. Forgive me for enjoying that though, I have prayed not to but can't always help myself. For those who enjoy the process of my flesh dying, I see the death of a soul as I look out. I'll keep my soul, you keep your life, and mirth. Liberals never learn. In spite of my wicked pleasure, I will pray for you... and for forgiveness of my own dark little joy. Mostly.

Brutal.

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Tylenol, at any dose, is no longer helping. Neither is aspirin or Anacin. I need sleep so badly but I can no longer become comfortable enough to sleep. I am having trouble breathing just sitting. I don't think this thing is fatal and there is a good chance it never will be. It won't get the chance. Exhaustion from not being able to sleep will mostly likely simply cause something else. A heart attack is more what I am hoping will happen. A stroke scares me. There are other failures which could come first though. Beside the side ache from trying to breathe, I now have a matching pain on the upper part of the lower torso, just below the ribs. These have become constant in the last few days or week. I don't know what that is. Kidneys, I think, are beginning to bark a bit, if those are in the lower outer back of the torso. I can't say for certain, but I would guess my breathing is becoming the type of breathing one would find coming from someone on a cross.

This is going to be slow and hard. I definitely deserve it. My worry is that it will all become a bit much and I will surrender myself by going to the hospital, the last place I want to be. I am hoping I can just hold fast until it eases or doesn't. I realize there is no help to be had, from any quarter. I also realize now that this is probably the best way. If it gets much worse, I will put something into play to limit the time I simply rot. I won't say I sense death, I really don't. It is merely a belief because of the situation and from what I have gathered. More research online is rather useless. At some point even online information just can't deal with so many variables, notorious as it is on fact often anyway.

So tired. I just want a bit of sleep. So sore. So weak. I'm going to try to find sleep again.

I don't know.

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I was up and ready easily to take Sassy for her appointment. I had thought her medical profile was in a specific place. Of course, it wasn't. I looked for a bit, but running shy on more time to search, I simply trapped the unhappy beast and away we went. She was quite nice, actually. She is not used to other people. She didn't fight, or bite, though she did fuss when they took her temperature the old fashioned way and more so when they gathered a bowel culture the old fashioned way. But considering everything, she was rather good.

It looks like she has a minor problem, and I was given some stuff to sprinkle on her food. It acts like yogurt, but of course is designed for cats. Two boosters and a rabies shot were also had. It was good to know that she is relatively healthy. Changing her food too quickly might be what is upsetting her stomach though too. I asked about cat foods. Science Diet is what was recommended. I will look over the labels and see about that. I forgot to set up an appointment for Sam, she is next. While she will probably be as easy or easier to deal with than Sassy, she will be much more difficult to get into the cage. She HATES the carry box.

As little as that work was, I found myself constantly out of breathe. I tried the inhaler before I left to zero affect. I am honestly not sure how I am going to mow the lawn, or even shop for groceries. My capacity to simply suck in air is compromised by merely getting out of my chair. Things are not looking good, not at all. I have given up on medical intervention. I have doubts they are going to even offer end of life services. They will most likely merely try to kick me around to other specialists and doctors in the hopes that none of them are held responsible for anything that is about to happen. I am in a really tight spot and the medicine doesn't seem to be doing a thing anymore. I just need a few more weeks to take care of some business and then I don't really care. At least if I can find a way to take care of that business.

A gray day. But today it doesn't really matter. I'm actually feeling, in the emotional way, pretty good. I'll go with that. Have a good day yourself.

I guess I never knew.

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I was absolutely amazed, confused, flabbergasted by the chart in this article. Now, when I used to be active technology wasn't how things were done. There was no such thing as sexting (and I wouldn't have done it). I also never cared for mirrors or photography, nude or otherwise. The rest, well, there was that. I think what got me the most was how many people knew the full names of past lovers. Sexually speaking, if politics is considered, and liberals are considered loose, liberals would have considered me a freak. I had never seen anything like a poll or how my behavior compared, politically speaking or otherwise. It isn't that I tried, it is that it just wasn't that difficult to find a woman and I had no real moral underpinnings. Add in lots of travel, constant moving, and I did what I did. Then again who knows how honest people are in surveys and add in that my mother and then I through rearing were trendsetting a bit. My guess is my way of life is more normal with the younger generations. Sure, I have changed. Even while dying I maintain celibacy to the best of my ability for moral and social reasons. But it doesn't change the past. Or my surprise... chagrin. I thought... I was normal.

I wonder what else is extremely abnormal? The dying thing, of course. Most don't kiss death more than once, let along hang out on the make-out couch a dozen times. And moving. I lived in IC the longest, as a single city (if you include the attached city as an area), if I lived in three different places there. I no more know the names of all the cities, towns, and farms I have lived than I know the names of past lovers or people I fought. I know about a third of those first and almost none of the names of people I fought, I would guess. So much has come and gone in my life. It is almost as if I have no past. Even in the Navy, according to my records, I was never at a place more than three or four months, some duty stations were very short. Even my family... I have somewhere between 27 and 37 or was it 41 foster, step, adopted, and half brothers and sisters (that I know of, I am not sure about my birth father's children though those sort of don't count since I didn't know them or ever live with them), along with 10 parent types of various sorts, all but two I lived with at some point. How I remember things and deal with things is probably, just for those reasons, different.

How strange that a simple chart would expose so much. It is shocking to me. I am not sure how I feel about it. Alone, perhaps? I will think about it.

Drowning.

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I had hoped after three doses of the diuretic that the fluid would begin draining from the lungs. I drink very little, as I said. In spite of constant thirst, drinking resembles eating sand more than being refreshed. Tea, water, soda, it all is simply difficult to consume. My lips continue to blister. As far as I know, my next medical appointment isn't until the end of next month, though cardiology may be setting something up soon. Drats, I had meant to do some shopping. I will be in town tomorrow, taking Sassy to the vet. Gatroade and milk are the main things. As for eating... The nice thing about a small appetite is that my grocery bill has shrunk to $150 a month, including milk and soda.

I keep waking with full lungs, breathing on the skids, and a sore chest. At least I am not yet becoming oxygen deprived. A few times where I have excessively run myself out of breath, I have seen the beginnings of that, seeing "stars" I know to be a sign of asphyxiation. I used to see those in fights too, if my opponent was half decent when I was a budding fighter or later if someone nearly got my glass jaw just right. I keep looking for things that might help, researching online a bit, talking to others.

I have decided to set up my weights and to start using them. I don't know if pushing that will help. I will have to start low, probably just with the bars and bells. And it may turn out that I simply can't do it without seeing stars. But it might just push things open, force my body to respond. I have a good idea what the doctors would say. But they err on the side of caution to unreasonable levels almost every time. I think of them as medically based nanny mothers. "Oh, don't do that, you could do something which could cause something which might hurt something!" Common 'mother's neurosis' is suffered by all of them, in spite of the truth of how most of them live. You have to find out for yourself.

Just more complaining. For the moment, it is what I have. Talking to live people, even in the medical field, about half of this and... they back off as if I have the plague or abruptly change the subject. People like shiny happy things, not the truth. Certainly not my truth. I understand. Still, I have to shake them up so that they can look at the whole thing and paint a picture I can understand. Besides, I am the one who should be in shock. I'm not, I'm just grumpy about it all.

I haven't heard from my priest, but then he is not officially back until sometime earlier this week. I am sure his message service is full. Actually, before calling him back, I may simply give him another week to find some sanity upon his return. That is a "job" I am not sure I would want to handle if I could in the first place. Then again, in a more secular way, having been raised by a minister and family, I know the life of a pastor. The troubles, foibles, follies, sadness, and joy that a large congregation can put on one man is immense. I like to call it the physics of life. Even in God, with the bible, and in earnest, the questions are usually more varied and unique than the answers. The answers, actually, are simple. Do or do not, quite often. Do in faith, don't do in haste, want, greed, or lust. But how they fit the questions, how to answer the questions so that the answer makes sense to the one listening, that is where the fine delicacies and intricacies of immortal wisdom become a set of physics and mathematical formulas that are stunning. Of course the bee can fly, but how do we show it? Anyway, a little more time on that.

Hopefully I can get to mowing today. As is, it is already raining again. Perhaps I could at least get out with the weed eater and hit around some of the areas so as to mark it all up for the mower. Perhaps too some raking and branch mitigation. My trees shed branches like some trees shed leaves or nuts. On the good side, branches are easier to police. Who knows what will be done. After Sassy's appointment, the month is pretty wide open. I have a chance, after weeks of constant appointments, of getting back to... solitude, quiet, rest. Perhaps that will give me time to find my new place with the new conditions to begin... starting wherever I can.

I don't get it.

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I did make it to my appointment, and actually an hour early. My ability to... figure things out right now is rather limited. I ended up going early before I ended up not going, I guess? I have no idea why I went so early. I may have been failing, unable to think straight, and believed being on the road would see me there. I just don't know. And, really, I don't care.

When I got there, I was told that they had tried to reach me to let me know the appointment was canceled. My phone was on, so I am not sure what happened. The lady, and I trust her, said she called twice and left one message. My phone shows, now, only one call. No, really, I do trust her. Phones, all phones I have had, will sometimes not patch through calls. Bad software, one of the towers too busy, who knows. In any case, since they couldn't contact me, they had another nurse fill in.

They did an EKG. I am not sure if they did one in SLC or not. The number of tests that have been done leaves me not sure what any particular thing is. You might be surprised how similar different tests appear to be. My blood pressure was 160/140 and my pulse was about 107 or something, with oxygen at 92% to 93%. I was speaking with the nurse, asking for information. She really didn't have much to offer. I said I needed more information for planning, as it has been suggested that I am dying and it could happen at any time. She almost guffawed. Then asked why I would think such a thing. I said, well, it could be the enlarged heart both ventricles mind you, the hardening of the heart a test had suggested (though didn't we already know that, ha!), the low blood flow through my heart another test suggested, my liver and kidneys showing signs of failure, the liter or two of fluid in each lung, the high blood pressure, or maybe just a sense of doom. Or, maybe, a smattering of all of those things. She actually did stop and think there for a second and never spoke of the notion again. Actually, oddly, she let me show myself out. Usually they bring me up. I always feel as if they feel the need to monitor me out, so I don't steal or die or... something. Other than it being odd I did not mind.

I stopped in town, on the way home, to deposit some checks. While there I decided to stop at my favorite restaurant. A big meal was had, more than usual. I ate half of it. I also ordered shrimp ceviche for take out. Two meals are in the refrigerator ready for later meals. Oh that is so good. And even with only half a meal in me, I am stuffed to bursting.

I don't think I could have mowed today. But the choice is not mine. It rained, heavily, right until I returned and everything is quite wet. The sun is peaking through, but I have a strong sense that rain will again fall and shortly. This is one of the grayest springs I can remember. I am not looking forward to a sudden dry hot summer though, either. A little bit of transition time makes the weather so much easier to tolerate. That is not for us to decide. Deal with it I must.

Good day.

Weird sleep.

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I am sleeping, but in shifts. I can sleep about 4 hours before waking will full lungs. I can then stay up about 8 hours before needing to sleep again. Perhaps the medicine will kick in, perhaps fluid full lungs is just the way it is now. By the way, taking that much crap while not really being able to eat is... a stretch. I can't tell what is doing what, only that the side effects are excessive and odd. I may cut some things to every other day, split up what I am taking at any one time, and hope for the best. I have to take the diuretic, probably the potassium, the heart medicine, and aspirin. The rest will be taken as I can.

Though not perfect, the sleep seems to be enough so that I can maintain reasonable conscious function while awake. I am not overly tired, too weak to be simply mobile, and I might be able to take care of some business on the side. The thing, again, is that my wake times will sometimes be at odds with availability of business contacts. It beats being all down or asleep most of the time.

Tuesday Sassy goes in to the vet. Her stools do not smell nearly as bad, but are still rather loose. After looking at cat foods with a new appreciation for what cats really need, I have found another cat food that I will be starting them on as soon as I use the last of the old cat food. I purchased the best dry cat food, as a 20% supplemental for the majority wet cat food. It seems having some dry cat food in the mix helps with their teeth and gums. I also found a much better protein providing wet cat food. Finding food with no grains in the top 5 slots (and definitely not as the first slot) and real whole meats (preferably few or no by products, meal, etc.) in the majority of those slots, was what I was looking for. Good luck finding dry food like that. And expect to pay a good bit more for both the best wet and dry cat foods. Then again, compare the price of veterinary visits and pet medicine, along with inconvenience for owner and discomfort and restrictions for pets and the money seems more than worthwhile.

Sam got sick, again, today. I think, after feasting outside on flora and fauna (minus the flora mostly), she decided to eat even more when she returned home. Simply put, she was too full. I hope that is all. The material she voided looked different, not gnarly like it usually used to look. Still, after Sassy is checked out, Sam goes in. I will set it up when I take Sassy in. Due to expense, I will not take Sam in until after the first. If nothing else, it will be good to know they have their shots. I would like to find out more about my choice of foods, consider parasite treatments, and... ask a few other questions. I need to write some things down before hand, and take notes during the visit.

An appointment today means little will be done. Perhaps in the afternoon, when I return, I could do some mowing. I am not holding my breath. The trip itself might shove my nose into the dirt, exhaustion wise. I am very weak currently. A heavy bm turns me to jello. Ah well, the mowing will just have to get done when it gets done.

Have a good day.

Update: Argh! After being in the house all night, and after not being fed for eight hours, I decided it was feeding time. Fifteen minutes after feeding time Sam is tossing her cookies again! I do get mad, holler, and grumble. But I can't be mad AT Sam, she really can't help it. I suspect I will have to feed her less. She is a picky eater and has never really liked her food all that much, almost no matter what she is offered, at least until I started her on this new food. She LOVES this mix. She enjoys the hard food as well as the wet. She may simply not have any way of eating the right amount. But... how do you feed half a pouch of wet food? It's messy. Ah well. I still love her, even when she is a brat!

A sense of things and about my Mom.

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If how I feel has anything to do with how I am doing I am in trouble. Admittedly, I started a bunch of things yesterday. Along with furosemide, prescription strength potassium, over the counter calcium, magnesium, and a multi-vitamin, and carvedilol were all added in. Flushing and a bit of nausea is what is happening actively. A general exhaustion, if merely on par with recent norms, is also to be found. Even if it were not very likely to rain soon, I doubt if I could have gotten to mowing. Something else seems wrong with me, but I simply can't put a name to it. It is something physical, something not good, as opposed to a feeling or set of emotions.

I have been reviewing my conversation with my mother. Her response was surprising. I wondered if she, having seen me in bad scrapes, believes I will come out ahead this time too. I wondered if that she is so busy there that anything else can't really be taken in and processed. Perhaps she really doesn't care, she honestly sometimes really dislikes me (more when I am correct than not, as some (many?) women seem wont to do). None of those notions seemed quite right. Gnawing on the consideration while it gnawed on me lead to another idea. Perhaps she simply can't handle the notion of me dying. While she has performed in-home end of life care for many people, perhaps her youngest child would be so far beyond what she can do that she can't ponder it without a gold leaf embossed letter from three board certified doctors and a dream sent from God.

I am almost sure, now, that I am dying. While I am more sure of a economic and possibly civil collapse, I nearly as sure of death. I think the only thing I am unsure of is timing. And more, I gamble with intervention. If I have some one here and have a stroke, I am screwed. You can live for decades... on a feeding tube. Would a failing be fatal or lead to death quickly? Just because they can't fix the underlying problem in such a way that I could lead any kind of life doesn't mean they wouldn't do so after a failing, leaving me less of a reduced life than what I would already be looking at. So much to consider. So few answers as to time.

At least I am over the thought that my mother might be ignoring this out of spite. And, yes, I knew when I stumbled on the last notion that it was the right one. Something happens when the right factors combine in a mind and the correct answer is found. Beyond logic, I felt it. We are, after all, in spite of our variances, quite well connected. My dying is killing her. Meh, she is a woman, she will take this in stride, survive it, and thrive. Like it or not.

What can be done.

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As I consider various things in the house, I keep running into walls. Not quite literally, usually. I have never put up dry wall, I haven't worked with shelving, I haven't learned about home wiring, and the list goes on. Even with some decent diy books, the step-by-step processes are extremely limited in scope. For example, you have decided to install a toilet. The instructions are fine if you wish to simply do that one task. Choosing a good toilet is an extra task and finding good information on these low-flow toilets has (so far) been akin to peeling my eyes. Asking in store is like asking a used car salesman if a particular used car is good. They are all great, of course. But the expensive one is often considered much better. But what if you want to change the position of the toilet, even moving it a few inches left, right, or out? What if you are considering reconfiguring the whole bathroom? There is very little help, code when available is a footnote and definitely not complete, it is a nightmare to try and read enough to the point where you feel you know enough to even contemplate a project.

One of my continuing frustrations is deciding on a kitchen upgrade. What of several projects should be first, what can I reasonably expect to do myself, how much time and expense to really expect, and how to develop the design in the first place. Like a puppy chasing it's tail, without more resources the task will not be completed let along a design created without throwing money I don't have at the notion. I doubt if I am alone on these things. My guess is that most men raised by women alone for the most part, and many (other) city folk (people who have only ever rented), are in a similar state.

What about a diy boot camp? Nothing teaches (men anyway) like putting them into controlled chaos, doing tasks with strictly guided repetition in a way where the costs are known ahead of time, and then being opened up to access for further information and resources regarding how to find code and other laws for their area (without a degree in law or inside connections). While I realize most men could not commit to months of training, most men would gladly put a few weekends aside if they had a reasonable belief such a sacrifice would save them significant money on a project.

Compare what having a kitchen installed and without a do-it-yourselfer being utilized to his fullest and the same project without that. My guess is, my kitchen project, as I envision it, would cost $40k to $50k and that IS using more 'humble ingredients'. I would guess people who pay to have it all done by others go with granite, heated stone flooring, and other snazz because the cost difference is minimal when paying someone else to do all the work.

Some of the work I can't do. The running gas lines, for example, is probably restricted. I might be able to run the electrical, but it would be a complete learning process and I would minimally want that design checked. Removing the old flooring, repairing the sub-flooring, leveling the sub-flooring, installing new flooring, removing cabinets, putting in new cabinets and possibly doing the counter-tops, and even most or all of the typical house plumbing is well within reach. If too, all of it would be new, meaning progress would be slow. Further, those assumptions are based on using less expensive materials. Actually, I can probably do the design as well if I leave room for revisions which a contractor consultant might recommend. At this point however, I would be hard pressed to do any of that.

No, months of training is more than most guys could afford in time or expense. But what about weekend builder retreats? Guys spend small fortunes going to similar things for hunting, shooting, and fishing retreats. Starting such a thing would not be extremely easy. First, instructors. Finding top grade instructors in specific fields would be the first trick. I would want instructors who can, for example, frame and drywall truly professionally, but who also know enough about electrical, plumbing, structure, and a few other areas so that they would not misguide the students. How many contractors and diy'ers have seriously compromised safety and functional maintenance issues by all but ignoring laws, ordinances, code, not to mention common sense? Next would be finding a location where various education camps could be ongoing.

And what fields could be covered serviceably? Walls, flooring, possibly plumbing, but electrical? Gas would be out, as most ordinances require that to be done professionally. How in depth would some of this go? How much and how many topics could be put into a weekend? Of course, some of the education would be knowing when one is in over one's head. Lots of questions. If my current health, and even long term health, were not such issues, I would seriously be considering looking into this more seriously. Beginning with one area, creating a 'boot camp' and gaining some local notoriety for quality and value, this thing could have serious legs and move to all parts of the country.

Sure, there are two-year degrees in carpentry, plumbing and electrical internships, and the rest. But those don't help the guy who knows nothing, already has a career, but wants to be more hands on in his life and home. There is just something about guys that leads us to... build, rip out, redo, work with our hands, and bring order to chaos if we can. But I have kept away because much of that has simply been way too much information to try and take in all at once. The number of tools available, sorting through those, learning how to use any single tool and having a functional way to learn that won't end up being too expensive... Overwhelming. Anyway, if I could get my feet under me, with the free time I have available, I would begin looking at starting such a school.

Strange noises.

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After taking the slurry, pills, and then napping, I am still rather uncomfortable. My lungs are quite full. Sometimes getting out and doing things gets rid of fluid in the lungs, sometimes it doesn't. While going to town and moving around worked today, the fluid came back rather quickly. I am tempted to take another dose of everything. More might seem better. But as potent as much of this stuff is, I will wait until morning actually arrives. A real sleep cycle would be good too, if I can manage the pain and breathlessness.

But the sounds of my internals is quite a thing. My lungs became so full for a bit that it reminded me of that sense, after swimming a long time and having taken in a few too many accidental drinks, of water being regurgitated from time to time. The same sensation without the swimming. I can't tell what all is going on in there, but the lungs did drain a bit. There is movement afoot. I would be curious to know how that all works. My body has become a bit of a biology lab.

I am so very thirsty. No matter what I drink though, or how much, I can't feel quenched. I really regret having forgotten gatorade, if I am not sure even that could slake this thirst. My lips are blistering. Even so, I have to force myself to drink. Milk is the only thing that tastes good, but my guess is milk dehydrates more than it adds fluid... if you can believe what they say.

I have been thinking back on a time in my past. For whatever reason, a memory that bugs me pops up every once in a while. Back in my more secular days, I had a one-night stand with a rather brazen woman. She wasn't brazen in a sexual way, or no more than any other of the girls I knew. She was merely outspoken. She enjoyed toying with whoever, sometimes nicely but just as often cruelly. I hadn't seen her for years, five or more, and only really knew her from that one night other than having generally seen her around and having heard others talk about her (just social chat, not really gossip). When I saw her, I doubted if she would remember. If she remembered, knowing her to the extent I did, I figured she would razz me one way or the other. She did remember me despite a major hair cut and new styles and the time. But she did not razz me. She just... stared. She froze and looked at me. Her friend couldn't figure out what she was doing or what was happening. Neither could I. Was she wanting me to approach. She didn't seem hateful or angry or emotional. I had no interest in her before the event and she was not my type, so eventually I just slipped back into the shadows and headed out, never looking back. However, I am curious about what had happened. I suppose I simply do not know how to take or understand some things that go on around me. Some people I just can't read. Some things I just don't know. Odd what comes to mind sometimes.

Time to try and figure out if I can claw myself back to sleep. Good night.

Short but sweet.

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I got some sleep, much needed real sleep, shortly after that last post. I got all the medicine and supplements down my gullet, including the freaky one. With a full stomach as my only detraction, I waited a few hours before turning in. When I did, my stomach was eased and my lungs were either good or I was too tired to notice a problem. I could only sleep a little more than half a cycle, but it was good sleep. Waking up, I thought my watch indicated that it was 5:00. Being quite dark it would have meant a.m. How I misread so badly when waking up I am not sure, it was actually 22:00. The fog of sleep I suppose. I woke because my lungs were giving me more of a fit than my ability to sleep could contain. It will take a couple days of the diuretic to rid enough of the fluid to gain some comfort in bed again. At least that process is once again on track.

I fed the cats, let Sassy out, and ate a couple of the remaining boiled eggs. Humble as that breakfast is, having anything in my stomach was a nice change. I am simply not hungry, or hungry enough to compel me to clean and cook and shop. I could eat if food was available, if too I would still be eating light. I often can't taste the food, so I have little reason to try for fancy foods. The ribeye I ate the other day was an exception. Then again, I let the idea of that percolate in my mind for a couple of days and more so the day that was to be eaten was special by design. Actually, I can't taste water or soda either. The only thing that I can taste is milk. Doh! I forgot to pick up some milk. Then again, after a bit more reading, it seems milk should be a once or twice weekly treat for the "kids". I am finally getting to the point where I am doing more than simply buying food they might like and hoping.

I see the Republican party seems to be favoring their own version of Obama while flirting with another "minority" group. Oh well. I would like to say it is early, so maybe conservatives will rid the party of the politically correct pariah which infect the nominating system and candidate pool of the party before elections. I think three of the weaker "conservatives" are already out, one of them having given up on running altogether. So far I am not seeing a candidate for whom I would cast a vote, though being busy has made a complete and fundamental review of each candidate I would even bother considering impossible to this point. As with McCain, I would rather the ruin of the nation not be forwarded by someone with an "R" after their name. That is what "D" is all about. Regardless of the past, I discuss the future. From the field of idiot dreams I see exactly what I would have expected before the last election cycle. The Republican party has not learned the lesson.

I may have to mow tomorrow. While it is a Sunday, and I do not wish to work on Sunday, I simply have not had health or time on other days and my yard is beginning to resemble a wheat field! Further, after checking my mail, I see I have an appointment Monday and another Tuesday. I may have to use the weed whacker broadly as is, and definitely in certain areas in any case. Mowing is NOT going to be fun, but if I have even a shred of capacity, I will attempt to do so tomorrow.

Speaking with my friend, I suggested that following the doctor's advice (pick one) that I simply take it easy is not possible. Further, I wonder at the merits of such advice. Those who "take it easy" end up either completely crippled or dead. I guess I would recommend pushing through and living with the consequences. Beside the impractical nature of their request in a real and functioning world is the idea that simply taking it easy is mostly all I can do. So if I get the chance, I'm going for it. I hope it is dry but partly cloudy though. Even 70 F is a bit warmer than what I am used to this year, at this time. Having been in the 40's and 50's to now has taken a toll on my already weak tolerance for heat this year. I know, just know, it is going to go from cool to blazing like a light switch being turned on. Bah! I'll adjust...

Good day, or night again, or whatever.

Yeah!!!ElEVENTY!!!

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I made it to town before going to sleep! On the good side, I picked up those supplements, a general vitamin (chewable Flinstones complete), more painkillers (Anacin), and checked my mail and my powdered potassium was in! I also called my friend and he went shopping with me then on to lunch. We both ate too much, I ate double what he ate. Then again, I did need some food. On the bad side, what I had pushed to get to town to do, bank business, was not doable. It seems the bank has cut Saturdays from the service roster. Well, we are in a depression, go figure.

I checked the multi-vitamin and the other minerals. None of them add to more than 100%, and since I only eat a small meal every other day or so, this should be fine. I will figure this out and take it all before I go to sleep. I may need aspirin to sleep, which I have. I am so tired though, I may be able to skip it. I would like to get this stuff gobbled up, stay up a few hours to let it begin doing whatever it does, then lay down. I have some hope that I can get back to the comfort I was beginning to know before charley horses began thundering their way in. I have also held off on taking the carvedilol, even at the lower dose. It is scary stuff. I can't afford to lose track of things now and this stuff, even at the very reduced dosage, might cause that. They have no idea of the valley of shadow they ask me to walk through. I will be taking that today.

Such a minor thing, but pleasing. I know, I know, such a humble task. But between exhaustion, lack of breathe, recuperation from recent trips, continued cloudy skies, lack of sleep, and pain... finding the will at the same time I found the way was more like making a bulls-eye dart throw through a hurricane than what it might seem to a casual observer. Other than the bank not being open, which was new to me and beyond my control, I got it all. I even got some cat food and litter.

Powdered potassium, by the way, tastes odd. But I know I need it and it shouldn't cause stomach problems without food. Down the hatch it goes. I will have to explore various things to drink it with and see what works best. I did forget gatorade which might actually work well with it.

On to tinkering or... something. Good day!

Saturday?

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It seems in my fussing and discomfort I lost track of a day passing. I thought it was Friday. Still, it is far better to lose track of the days passing as in this case than it is to simply become unaware that time has passed. Becoming aware that weeks or even months have gone by without my knowing is a frightening thing. What is it I did in that time? Have I been paying bills? What have I been eating?

I did not sleep last night. I knew I would not sleep well in any case and yet could not quite get into town to buy some things that will allow some other things to go forward. Things which might allow sleep to be easier. Since I am still awake, and in decent shape, I am still thinking about going into town. Or, I will simply keep going on until I get tired enough to sleep and try getting to town tomorrow. That will complicate some other things though.

I finally cooked a bit of food last night. Just something simple, whole wheat pasta. Adding a little butter and a little cheese made for a nice little meal. I checked my eggs, to see what was still good. Most were, a few needed to be tossed. I just boiled a half a dozen and the rest will go into the fridge. Two of those made for a fine breakfast. It is good to cook and eat a bit. A few pain killers and I'll consider what to do next.

Good day.

Blah.

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The Anacin does help, it does work. For whatever reason Tylenol does not seem to cut the pain at all after a few days of trying. I am just now in the kind of shape to consider a drive into town. Being so late though, I am torn. Then again, I am not sure I can sleep well anyway, while the lungs fill more deeply since I can't use the diuretics without the mineral supplements. If I have ever wanted to reach for something and make the drive, this would be it. That doesn't mean it will be done. I hate that. I still don't know why I can't simply force the thing, it seems easy enough. Just push and shove and... end up falling asleep more exhausted than I would have been and no more successful. Still, I am keeping the notion... available.

My legs have been freezing the last few nights. While the main of my body remains warm (or warm enough) to nearly seemingly feverish at times, my legs from the waist down have been impossible to keep warm. I turned the furnace to 72 F, put on socks and sweats. In spite of my feet still seeming to sweat in the socks, my legs are still cold and not just seemingly cold (as I first wondered). My legs are physically cold to the touch. Ah well, who knows what goes on with the anatomy. A doctor would first tell me it was impossible, then tell me I'm crippled, then tell me to go to psychiatry. Or... don't ask a doctor.

I can't yet tell if the vasoline is working on Sam. Exclusion of action is not proof of potential future inaction. Still, it has been a few days and I have not heard her retch once. Other than that, her behavior is normal. Sassy's symptoms are changing. Her stools, while still a bit stinky, no longer gag me from across the house. She is urinating a great deal more (though that might be both cats, but wet cat food contains a great deal more fluid too). I will have to change the litter box a bit more, they hide their stool well, but there is no hiding urine.

I have started feeding them packets of Friskeys. Initially I thought it said one pack per cat twice a day. And, while it does, there was a piece I was missing. It actually says to feed a pack per cat twice a day per 5 pounds cat weight. I have increased the feed, to much rejoicing. After a day of unusual begging by the girls, I decided to revisit the instructions. Whatever the case, three packs per cat per day seems to be enough. Any more and they leave lots of food. Changing food types is odd, but they are loving it. I will be getting more cat food, and more milk, when I go into town. And more litter. I will be getting dry cat food too, for times I may need to be out of the house for a longer period of time. Oh, and I will do a little research on which cat foods are best, by brand. Reading labels in the store is a quick way to simply burn out. Especially with products which seem to have no real requirement to be very open or possibly even honest.

Later or good night.

I will have to figure some things out.

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I needed a bit of a nap but couldn't take one until about 17:00 or so. Even then I cut it short as all I could do was rest a bit. My lungs are filling fuller than ever, even raising the head of the bed and extra pillows aren't enough to give me comfort now. If I take the diuretic, I know I will be cramping constantly, so my sleep will become just as bad only add cramps. I remember this from the past, several times actually.

I need to get into town and do a bit of shopping for supplementals, ordering them would simply take too long. And yet I can neither wake up solidly, escape the pain, concentrate, or breathe right at the moment. I am going back to aspirin with caffeine, Anacin. The last doctor suggested Tylenol would deal with the pain better. As my prior experience showed, it doesn't. Still, I gave it a shot. I am sure a problem with aspirin, of any sort, is that it thins the blood. Tylenol doesn't thin the blood. But why couldn't he be honest and say that is his call rather than lie about the pain reduction qualities? With high blood pressure and thinned blood, death by accidental exsanguination is a even more serious risk. Still, without dealing with the pain, I will not sleep, something I have to do in order to have any hope of caring for what I can actually tend. I feel like a mouse in a maze and the rules keep changing while the traps become more and more dangerous.

Right now I feel like I am in a boxing match and I have three opponents. Right now, after taking medical advice and having to retreat from that, I am pretty much defenseless. Thankfully, probably, I don't go down easily... or for long, well, save for the last fall. I have given myself enough time off Tylenol to switch to Anacin and will be taking that shortly. Hopefully that will see me in town even yet tonight. I am awake enough, currently, but in pain and having trouble breathing. If I can handle the pain I might be able to ignore the gasping.

My mother called today. I told her what I knew. She doesn't seem all that worried. I think she thinks if the doctors thought I was in that bad of shape they would have hospitalized me. I did correct her phone number with the V.A. I couldn't remember her address, so I got that again and I will update that. I am sure I did this before though. I probably won't be having her out this year. I need to save money for the possibility that she needs to... handle things. I won't say I am dying and that it is useless. I merely strongly suspect that they won't give, that I can't give, and without give I will die. I think their only problem is that I could die before they could grab my near dead corpse and shove it into a long term care facility through which they could medicate at their will and make whatever money they can off it until it finally dies sometime far into the future. Cynical? Really? They are unionized and government. what a combination.

Anacin, if possible a trip to town, and when I can do that, back to taking the diuretic. I am simply keeping my head just barely above water. I have had worse, but it's been a while. Oh well, I'll figure it out or not.

Changing schedules.

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Oh, I slept last night. And, I did wake up early enough to call it morning. But a radical shift in schedule is proving quite a chore. If I can just find something to uncross my eyes that doesn't include a nap. Or, maybe a nap is required. I still, after all these years, have no real or easy way to do this. *zap* Later.

Sleep was good, finally.

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Making it back to bed at around 2:00, I found sleep wonderful. Something that doesn't help with cramping is cold. I had the furnace off and my bedroom windows open a crack. Fresh air was quite nice. It was not exactly cold, the temp read 64 F, which is warmer than I keep the setting when it is on at night. Generally in winter, after 20:00, the furnace is set to 62 F. But, with cramping, that isn't the best. A few closed windows, turning on some heat, and that may have helped.

As for the diuretic, I am not absolutely convinced, at this point or any point really, it is helping with fluid buildup in the lungs. In my various visits with various specialists, all I am coming away with is that no one actually knows what specifically is the singular or primary problem, other than blood pressure. So I am being treated for a diagnosis, for all I know, that has already been crossed off the list.

On the good side, after adding simple pain killers and raising my bed, I have at least been able to sleep quite comfortably for a few days. I am doing more and able to do more. That doesn't change, of course, some underlying limits. Yesterday's travel and stretch of appointments and tests, leaves me exhausted (but normally so) today. I will recover from this probably by tomorrow. The new comforts have allowed me to create input into my ability to change my sleep patterns. I was awake this morning, after a good night's sleep (even with a minor trauma), at 10:00. So, perhaps I can get to some of those things on my list. A few phone calls, perhaps, today. And at least a preview of some paperwork I need to fill out and send in. Humble as that is, I will take it.

My mother called today, worried. I missed the call. I heard the phone while I was waking but I could not move. I tried to call back shortly thereafter. I may have to see if she will travel here. The thing is, I don't know what time frame to offer. Am I going to be dead in a month or a year, or ten? I can't go by doctors, they said I was supposed to be dead long ago. I don't want her showing up and then having to return to her life, then coming back again two months after she returns home to tend my remains and affairs. How do you really know? Well, I will let her know what I know and that it really isn't looking good, but that coming now is a gamble.

Well, on to waking a bit more, maybe making a few phone calls, and doing some other things. Have a great day.

I did feel that.

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Now I know what was causing my legs to cramp. Diuretics. I am not taking in enough fluid to make up for what is going out. I have been honestly taking the diuretic prescribed since going to the ER. I must simply run out of available fluids or some mineral or nutrient through elimination. Tonight, as I was sleeping, my left leg seized up. Having had this before, I learned a way to quickly move my leg, and twist it in a certain way, that sometimes was enough to release the charley horse. If I do that, then rub the leg a bit, I can get back to sleep. If the pain takes too long to wake me for the maneuver or just as often just because, that doesn't work.

Not only did my maneuver not work, the muscle seizure was one of the worst I have ever known. Even when my trick doesn't work, I can usually coax the knot out very quickly with a bit of rubbing, it might come and go in worse situations, requiring a five minute massage. Something else that I can do in worse situations, if I have to bring the knot back and go back to loosen it from the other direction of muscle pull, is to step on the foot. That, considering my weight, forces the knot to nearly immediately cease, if it guarantees a short spasm before it does so and is therefore a last ditch effort. None of that worked tonight. My leg, ankle, and foot were frozen, in the tremendous pain of a charley horse from my knee down, for nearly fifteen minutes. Rubbing the areas did nothing. Stepping, even hopping, on the leg would not pull it out of convulsion. Needless to say, I will not be getting back to sleep for a bit.

The rest was helpful, if not enough. I really needed sleep and probably would have gotten a full night's rest otherwise. In any case, I did more research on carvedilol. It seems the amount given for high blood pressure is 6.5mg, twice a day. The amount given for congestive heart failure is half of one of those pills. I have a cutter, so I will begin taking that tomorrow. But I will have to cease on the diuretic for a bit. I may have to go back to taking any diuretic only occasionally, as I had been (if I had grown a bit too lax with it, too).

D.C. indicates that taking aspirin and Tylenol together shouldn't be a problem. I am finding problems with this idea for two reasons. First, the combination was recommended for longer term use and along with this link and the fact that both my liver and kidneys are, minimally, acting up means it probably isn't the best juice to be shooting into my carburetor right now. The recommendation was 350 mg of plain aspirin and no more than 4k mg of Tylenol per day. The 350 mg of aspirin I understand. But not with Tylenol and troubled organs.

The only thing useful I probably got today, in the way of information, is that my situation is probably quite... complicated. It isn't just one organ, subsytem, or such. I have an array of problems. Problems which can probably all be tended by treating the high blood pressure, but any of which tends to be fatal on their own. They talked me into an appointment with cardiology, which is yet to be made (they will be calling it seems). Then again, the sticking point seems to be whatever is functionally wrong with me, my exhaustion. They keep trying to insist it is psychological. As I have suggested, if it were, medicine for it would have worked. They treated symptoms, symptoms I no longer have. As the realization that I would probably never "walk" again sunk in, there was no longer a reason to be depressed, or "manic" from trying to force function.

We will see. The doctor who issued the carvedilol suggested Ritalin might be an option. Though very close monitoring of my heart would be required. I am fine with that. Then again, I am not sure if he understands that the option may not be open, I am not sure if he was merely fibbing to begin a bait-and-switch, I am not sure if he was simply saying whatever he could to get me into the clinic. Trust? Earn it. They haven't been honest with me, at all. Nor are they including me in the decisions, for exampling sending me different medicines without bothering to call? Not sending medicine they said they would send? Too many chefs cooking too few plates, in this case one plate, and it ain't working out.

The next time I see an actual doctor, one who has my records and the skills to know, I need to nail down whether I should ask my mother to stay with me for a bit or not. My guess is, like today, the issue will be avoided like the plague. Perhaps, with so many things going bad at once, they simply have no clue. The doctor, the head chief type, suggested I need, essentially, to surrender. I have. I most certainly have or I would still be in school and probably looking for a wife. But what I won't do is crawl, blindly, helplessly. Not for my health, not for my life, especially since I am pretty sure once I begin to crawl I will never stand again. I will damn straight die with my boots on to the capacity that I can.

That was a very long day.

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Oh, I made it. No sleep before I went, I just could not get to it. I did do another load of laundry though. I may have done something else too but I am so fried I simply can't remember. If today was a battle, I lost. Running from one massacre to the other, being chased by ghosts from the past and goblins in the here and now.

The first of the three appointments was supposed to be a stress test. I guess they are prejudiced. While my diastolic was a bit higher than usual, it wasn't THAT much higher. My pulse, however, was ridiculous. At 175/139 and a pulse of 118-120, not only did the tech not perform the test, she called in the nurse. The nurse got upset and called in the doctor. The doctor got upset, but since he was a man I punched him. Well, maybe I didn't punch him, but the drama classes they take sucked. Still, I was outside or on the border of the limits, so. The doc asked if I would take something, and I tentatively agreed, if it was low dose and not something I had tried before. He gave me a script for carvedilol. After looking it up, this looks like exactly the type of medicine I shouldn't even consider. It can increase blood glucose, it may cause a difficulty with breathing, and it will definitely cause exhaustion. Oh well. Next...

Then I went to... some other clinic. A clinic that tested my lung capacity. Two techs did the testing, as the one who started had to go to another clinic. The last of the two techs suggested that while there are problems, obvious problems, my lungs have slightly more capacity in my illness than his do as a healthy man. No doubt. Three years ago I was able to work up to doing two 100 yard laps underwater. I'm a fast swimmer, given all considerations, but not all that fast. Besides, even a fast swimmer isn't all that fast, that is just the way swimming is. They had me use a double dose of the inhaler for before and after testing. In at least one test I lost capacity after. I would guess the average increase was 3%, or less, using the inhaler (and a double dose at that). So, most likely the inhaler is useless to me.

Next I went to another clinic, I can't remember the name of it either. I ended up finding out where the first of the two techs from the last clinic went, as she did my initial intake. My blood pressure had dropped to 154/99 and my pulse was down to 108, wouldn't you know! Of course, I think that is because this is usually my sleep time (or has been for a while now). And I was quite tired. After the intake, I was seen by an intern. He did this, that, and finally the other thing. He asked me dozens of questions and I offered some information. He left and was gone long enough for me to look at the pictures and read half a dozen articles in two different magazines, neither of particular interest.

Finally he returned, with the head chief doctor. It seems each of my lungs, when I lay down, have between two and three inches of fluid in them. This equates, it was suggested, to several liters of fluid in each. My blood pressure, of course, according to him, is astronomical. He suggest I visit psychiatry, believing that psychotropics along with high blood pressure medicine will make me happy and healthy. Too tired to more than debate a few items, I realize I am doomed. Doesn't he realize psychotropics do similar things to me as high blood pressure? Probably not. The best I could really ever muster out of a day on that stuff was 12 hours of waking time, and only if I did nothing else. I gave psychiatrists ten years to get it right, five of them on one major mood lever, another five on another, and a whole bunch of various anti-depressants. Only going off that stuff allowed me to get away from being suicidal.

Well, can't say I didn't try. I did ask how long he thinks I have. I guess not long, though a real timetable was not offered. I am simply not sure when to call my mother. I think that, at this point, is merely a matter of time. Or I will simply run out of time. But then, they have been saying this for twelve years. Whatever. I need some sleep. Absolutely bushed. While I didn't grocery shop, I did pick up some aspirin, Tylenol, and Vasoline. The doc that gave me the script said it was okay to use the two together. Wait a minute, that can't be right. Look it up yourself. Hell, they are trying to kill me. He had to know my liver is already at least acting up. Oh well. Nap time.

Good night.