Details that I might regret sharing

But will keep brief. I’ve been exhausted to the point of collapse for several years now. I actually fall asleep while driving at times (usually I pull over and sleep for about 15 minutes). It’s been hellish and miserable and I have not felt like myself for a ridiculously long time.

My doctor sent me to get some blood drawn, and I added a check mark (after the fact) for a blood test I wanted done that my doctor has consistently neglected to run, in spite of my requests. It’s an “integrative health clinic”, and they always want me to take my temperature for three weeks and do elimination diets and blahblablah.

Got the results back. The box I checked? Yep, that was it.

Simple tiny pill every morning. Typical results of the single little pill? Increased energy, reduced pain, reduced risk of heart disease and diabetes, lowered cholesterol, weight loss, better sleep, healthier hair, skin and nails.  

Why the hell is health care so hard to manage? Why are women discounted so utterly? Why in god’s name have I been put at risk of serious complications because some nitwit didn’t want to do the most obvious possible test for a middle-aged woman with textbook symptoms and a history of facial radiation?

Geez fucking Louise.

Just thyroid. That fucking simple. Not rocket science, not a character flaw, not my lifestyle (my lifestyle is healthy and productive, thank you very much).

You want something done, you gotta do it yourself.

I’ll let you know how it turns out.

 

Gah I can’t think

Well I have been slam-banging along for the past couple of weeks, running into walls, wrestling (I have an urge to say “rasslin'” here, like I’m doing things with alligators) with nursing homes and assisted living facilities and anxiety-ridden relatives and ridiculous therapy contracts and elder lawyers and may I just say that even without being there in the same city or state as my old mama (who is getting really cranky about being in a nursing home, even if it is temporary, and the jury is still out on that) it’s really time consuming to the point of disrupting the time-space continuum (whatever I mean by that) and gah I can’t think. My life is interrupting my blogging and it really chaps my hide.

And this week I’ve got company Wednesday through Saturday, a bunch of yodeling folk singers descending on Casa de Bosquechica on Friday, a trip to Santa Fe on Sunday for a hideaway-retreat with the missus and a visit to the state legislature on Monday to advocate for our right to have the partner benefits that other married people can just take for granted, thank you very much. And I can’t find my damn photo album from Africa, which I’ve been trying to find to post in this piece I was working on last week, because ever since the mom-stroke thing, it’s been hard to focus forward; my brain keeps doing “my life in review”, which is just a wretchedly self-absorbed response to her pending mortality (pending?).

The persistence of the “life in review” thinking made me decide to do a two-piece writing practice: “5 years ago, I . . . . ” followed by “In 5 years, I . . . ” to help me shift back into where I’m going instead of where I’ve been. What will I be doing in 5 years? Well, if this past couple of weeks is any indication, I’ll still be working on this freakin’ “freewrite” about what I did five years ago…….and geez, that’s just wrong.

Wow

I commented on a CNN political site in response to some jerk probably perfectly nice bigot “patriot” fellow American who blames all our problems on Mexicans coming across the border.

A relatively mild-mannered comment, to the effect that part of the influx is related to economic stress in Mexico brought on by NAFTA.

Immediately got attacked by another gentleman fellow, who slammed my NAME (soy Teresa, ese, not “Terry” – in quotes!), who said I was a socialist and a loser, like Vicente Fox, and blamed everything on Clinton. Which, of course, NAFTA was a Clinton accommodationist decision that I wasn’t crazy about either. But holy cow, isn’t there some kind of deprogramming we can do to wash the koolaid out of these mad people?

Made me cringe. I rarely indulge in online political discussion (married to a Kos-ack, however). But my nephew (come back, come back), who looks like any guy they’d pitch across the border if he didn’t have his papers with him, has recently found the Lord and apparently Jesus has been saying it’s all about the wetbacks too. Oh, and Clinton. Man, Jesus has changed a lot.

Guess we’re warming up for another great divide.

Viva la difference. Ese.