To Your Health

Living with a mental illness and being accident and illness-prone leave you spending long hours in doctor’s offices, in waiting rooms, in line to get your third CT this year or more “routine” labs, at the surgeon’s, at the medical supply company.  And then there’s the routine stuff — the dentist, pdoc appointment, therapy over phone, therapy in person, renew prescription, flu shot, ear infections, the dentist again.

You get the point and I am personally at a point where it feels like all I do is talk to medical and mental health professionals who prescribe tests and medication and specialists.  While all of this does aggravate me (obviously), I am grateful that I have good health insurance.  When I sigh about heading to the next appointment, I think to myself, ‘well at least I can, I have that option.’

I’m not sure what I’d do if I didn’t have any insurance.  I would probably be dead, with two broken feet.  No access to mental health care is unthinkable, unacceptable to me — as someone who has worked on the inside of the system and been a customer on the outside — because it is absolutely vital to many persons, even in a city this size, that meds, therapy, community support saves lives and improves lives and can in many cases make all the difference.

I picture me unmedicated, with my broken foot not in a cam walker, with all the gastro problems of the last year unsolved, no flu shot, no antibiotics for all the ear infections, and so on and so on and, well — I actually can  picture that.  I think you have to live the life of the uninsured or underinsured to really feel the strong pull for healthcare, that desire we all have to be (mostly) well, physically and mentally).

I spent years being underinsured and racking up credit card debt and owing debt to my parents just to pay for my medications.  Then a program was found and it turned out that if QoB laid enough battle down, she could get me on this program.  I’ve been on it for quite a while now, and have since never had to worry about prescription drug cost or what would happen if I broke my foot (again).   And now that I am on SSDI and have two years in, I just started Medicare which will improve my treatment options quite a bit.

What I want to know is — why is it that you must be disabled or elderly before you can get some really good insurance working for you?

Does Better Mental Health Equal an Easier Quit?

You know, when you get ready to quit smoking, you can find some of the most unbelievable “facts” and opinions on the Internet.  Everything from “the only way to quit and stay quit is xyz” to “blood pressure returns to normal within 24 hours” to “the first few weeks are the hardest.”

Well, it might end up, further into my journey, that I call the first few weeks the hardest, but that just isn’t how its going for me right now.  I am on Day 12 and counting, and I am finding it to be so much easier than any of the other times I tried to quit, and much more similar to the last time I quit for an extended period of time (1.5 years).  It just feels easy, it just feels right.

Maybe it is because my mental health is in such a place, that I’m learning once again to focus on the moment, to not dwell on negativity, and to do the things that I know keep me well.  Although over the past month, things have been hit or miss with my mood, I have had several straight solid days, where I felt great, happy even.  Not manic, mind you, just centered and at peace with things, in general, in my life.

I owe a lot of that to be open, willing, mindful, and completing meditation practice every day.  It is amazing how much all of that opens you up to a more beautiful world than you see when feeling poorly.  It feels like the sun is shining down into my brain, my heart, and like any problem I am having right now, is a problem that can be put away, worked through, or I can be made to realize it isn’t as important as I thought it was.

I know I have quit smoking, temporarily before, and I realize I am at 12 days only, and while I will obviously be much more comfortable when I am months or even years from my quit date, I can’t help but feel super confident that this will last.  I have had so many new “revelations” since I quit, so much has already changed, and I just keep waiting for the next surprise to come up.

Before quitting, I was always (no exaggeration) very out of breath.  Even just sitting, I had a wheezy pant going.  Walking across a parking lot was difficult, and walking around a grocery store or any store for that matter, was next to impossible.  I barely moved at home, sitting for long periods of time and neglecting daily chores.  Of course, it didn’t help that I have been sick for the longest time, but I’m talking the most extreme inactivity.

I had forgotten how bad certain things smelled, and now my sense of smell is coming back.  Burnt popcorn smell all throughout the house, stinky fish smell coming from garbage, the smell of smoke steeped into the whole house from years of smoking inside.  It’s all really terrible and, while I am grateful that I can smell these things now so that I can address them before they become a real problem, it’s really kind of gross right now and has been making me quite nauseous  here in the last couple of days.

When I find myself wanting a cigarette, usually after a meal or when driving, I tell myself to wait five minutes, and if after those five minutes are up, I still want a cigarette, I can go buy a pack and have one.  And quite honestly, usually by 2 or 3 minutes, I can’t believe that I was actually entertaining the idea of having one.  Mindfulness really helps with cravings as well, along with deep breathing or rhythmic breathing.

Feeling all that clean air push through my lungs, the irritating cough I have right now while getting all that stuff out my chest, and the ability to smell both good smells and bad smells — well, all in all, I’m loving it.  It is that immediate positive reinforcement for breaking bad behavior that works so well, and I know I would be able to do any of this if my mental health were in poor shape, and for that I thank DBT, mindfulness, and Loving-Kindness.

 

This and That

I believe I am committing a sort of bloggie faux pas right now.  I have a day’s worth of comments that I have not responded to yet, and I really need to blog, like right now, because I am starting to drift off and must get this daily blog thing in.  One shouldn’t put up a new post before making sure all comments are answered from the previous day, or should they?  I’ve never understood the appropriate protocol.  Please, other bloggers, leave you thoughts on that bit in the comments.  Maybe now we will get some truth!

I had a very nice day at work, hanging out with BlueCat.  We didn’t make a lot of money, but we made it fun, and that’s what matters.  Ok, so money, yes, is important, but we have to realize that we are in a seasonal business and the “fishing season” is over for everyone except the die-hards.  Like BlueCat and Snickers — they will fish until you can’t get a boat out over the ice, usually early January.  And then there are the ice fishermen, and, well, that’s just a whole different kind of man.

Realized today while looking at the odd ticker tape on my dashboard, that I have not smoked for one week, one day, 10 hours, 39 minutes and 7 seconds. 506 cigarettes not smoked, saving $68.39. Life saved: 1 day, 18 hours, 10 minutes.

I mean, if you think about it, 506 cigarettes is a TON of cigarettes.  There toward the end, I was probably smoking a good three packs/day.  That is just grossness…in my mouth and in my lungs.  Another thing about quitting is that you start to get your sense of smell and sense of taste back.  I have bad news folks — coffee is disgusting.  No, I mean it, its foul.  Tried it with my usual creamer, tried it with milk.  Coffee is a no-go.  This makes me sad because I really loved coffee and the zip it gave me, but I am going to bust out the Iced Tea Maker that Mom and the Big Dawg got me for my birthday.  I can’t possibly have lost my taste for iced tea…surely not.

So, on Tuesday I get to swallow a camera.  Yeppers, it’s not sci-fi, it’s my life.  Unfortunately you have to do all the prep work for the procedure, although its not quite as bad as colonoscopy prep.  The bonus of all of this is that I was able to talk myself into buying a couple extra Gatorades since I can’t eat anything tomorrow and can only drink clear fluids (Gatorade totally counts, they just don’t want you to drink any red or purple).  Keep fingers and toes crossed that this whole little episode goes well.

That’s right…Auntie Rose in the house. 🙂

The Downside of Care-Taking

All relationships have their ups and downs.  Heaven knows that DSB and I have had our share.  For the past two months, things have been very tense because DSB has been laid up and I have been caretaking, working, and running a household.  All by myself.  Did I mention the waiting on hand and foot part of it?  Stressful.  Miserable.  Made all the more miserable by his miserable attitude.

I understand being in pain.  I understand not feeling good.  What I don’t understand is taking frustration with that out on your partner.  I really don’t.  I can forgive a lot of it, but sometimes it’s just like, “Really?  Seriously?”

DSB came home from the hospital on Thursday evening.  He was in good humor, we had a crap dinner from McDonald’s, and pretty much went to bed.  I worked Friday and he called, asking where his truck keys were.  Well, I really didn’t know off the top of my head and couldn’t really see why it was so urgent that I find them, so I told him I would find them when I got home from work.

When I was leaving work, I found them in my glove box.  I texted this to DSB and he replied about how he never should have left something “so important” with me and he should have taken care of it himself.  Whatever.  They weren’t lost and it wasn’t like he was getting ready to take his non-running truck on a joyride.

When I got home, we almost immediately left for his doctor’s appointment and there were a lot of sighs and moans on the way, as he criticized my driving, claiming I was taking rough roads just to cause him pain.  Sure, that’s what I’m doing.  Makes total sense.  Then he was grumpy in the doctor’s office because I asked some questions.

By the time we got home, things were very tense.  DSB seemed to be oblivious, but I was reliving all of his little comments.  We ate dinner and went to bed.  We left the night off on a good note, so I was hopeful for the morning.

I woke up this morning and had breakfast and coffee.  I then went in to see DSB and he asked me to run out and get him biscuits and gravy.  I told him I didn’t want to leave twice in one day (because it is fracking cold out) and that we could combine the grocery shopping trip and his biscuits and gravy run into one trip.

I was then accused of not caring about him, not putting him number one, and being selfish.  Okay then.  Two can play this game.  I had no desire now to be in the same house as him the rest of the day, so I called my mom and told her I was coming into work and then I would hang out with her in the afternoon.

No, it’s not my scheduled day to work, but we have recently totally revamped the store and there are still many things that need to be put away and organized.  So, there is a valid excuse to go to work, other than to get away from the house.  I actually like all of the little organizing and putting things away into their place.

I told DSB my plan to go to work at 10:00am and then spend the afternoon with mom.  He grunted something at me, not sure what, other than I think it was just to say he heard me.  I told him that I’d run get him biscuits and gravy when I left and he said to just forget it.  He knew that he was not important to me.  That I only do things if they serve me.

So, my plan is to totally stop doing anything for DSB.  Maybe once that is taken away, he will see how much I do for him, and possibly apologize, although I doubt it.  I guess what I am saying is that, at this point, I am not willing to bend over backwards to help  him out as I have been doing for the past two months.

Want a drink of water?  A pillow?  Something fall on the floor?  Get it yourself.  He is supposed to be moving around because of the blood clots, so here’s his opportunity.  I think it will be beneficial for him to fend for himself for awhile.

That, and I’m just pissed and fed up.  I don’t think I’m wrong in feeling that, and even so, I don’t really care at the moment.

Dog Comment and Quick Synopsis of Afternoon Events

I just found myself barking, “Kizzie!” as she was getting into the trash.  I read somewhere that it is a bad thing to scold a dog by using it’s name.  Both DSB and I do that all the time.  My mom does, too.  All of our dogs seem fine.  Or maybe I should start worrying about it, and worry it to death.  I’m pretty good at that.

I’m a little loopy, having taken my evening meds about three hours behind schedule and now just writing a bit in the hopes I can fall asleep.  Today has been a long and exceptionally  unpleasant day.

DSB has been fighting off many medical issues here lately.  I finally talked him into going into the hospital today, and it turns out that his ribs are bruised (from where he fell off the couch), and he has blood clots in his left leg AND in his right lung.  This is very serious and, after being in the ER from 1:30pm today until 7:15pm when they gave that diagnosis, I really thought they were going to tell him that his foot was broken (and that’s why he can’t walk) and that his ribs were bruised (and that’s why he can’t catch his breath and is in such pain).

Good thing we went to the hospital.  Good thing he finally listened to me and went to the hospital, is what I meant to say.  And now I’m going to bed, about two hours past my bedtime.  I hope this means I will sleep two hours later, but what it actually means is that I have now officially gone off schedule and will probably suffer for it the next few days.

I just felt like I needed to get a word out into the blogosphere, I guess.

Wherein I Come Clean About Smoking

I quit smoking toward the end of December this past year.  For the most part, I did pretty well, considering.  I had a few slip-ups, but nothing major.  I struggled, fought, and pretty soon it became easier, if not just plain easy some days.

I reveled in the non-smoking life.  I could breathe, I wasn’t coughing all the time, my hair smelled good.  I could smell a cigarette at 50 yards and, at times, I could have sworn I was allergic to cigarette smoke.  The secondhand smoke just affected me that much.

Toward the end of January, things started getting difficult.  DSB’s health was to take a turn for the worse, and that stress-free life I so enjoyed was over.  I had become complacent about my quit, too.  Not changing my patch when I should, not popping a lozenge when my brain told me I wanted a cigarette, not blogging about the struggle.  I lost track of the fight within me to stay quit, and I got lost somewhere.

It started out with just stealing a cigarette here and there.  Within the last two weeks, I’ve been buying a pack here and there, smoking a couple, a dozen, the whole pack here and there.  Cigarettes are an addictive bitch, and I’m not talking about the nicotine.  For the past two days, at home with an immobile DSB (health problems out the ying-yang, oh yeah!), waiting on him hand and foot, doing nothing but trying to run this house all by myself, I’ve smoked regularly.

And my body is pissed.  And I am pissed.  I’m coughing and hacking and I reek of cigarette smoke.  I started to think about how great I felt in December and most of the way through January.  How good it felt to be quit, how nice the air was moving in and out of my lungs, how my wind was better, how I had more energy.

They are absolutely fucking right when they tell you that quitting smoking now will greatly reduce serious risks to your health.  And you feel amazing.  I think the Surgeon General should put that on the pack, too:  If you quit, you will feel amazing.  Part of it is that you’re not smoking and part of it is that you tackled a huge beast and you are WINNING.

I’ve been lying in bed reading The Orange Buffalo by Grayson Queen, which so far has been amazing, and he is writing about (in this particular section) about drinking and disillusionment and the quest for perfection, and Grayson Queen helped me (about 15 minutes ago) to have my own personal epiphany.

I do NOT want to smoke.  I do not want to be a smoker.  I want to quit and have healthy lungs and live to see my nephew grow up and get married and have kids of his own.  I don’t want to sneak around with cigarettes and lighters and be a smelly, smoky mess.

The other part of this personal epiphany, is that, yes, life has become quite stressful and that I, however, do not have to feed it.  I can deal with it, I can manage.  Without cigarettes.  And without a bipolar meltdown.

My personal epiphany:  I am happier without cigarettes.  I feel empowered when I don’t smoke.  I like the non-smoking Rosa better than the chain-smoking Rosa.  And I definitely like the not-sneaking-around Rosa better than the sneaking-around one.

I have come to far to start telling lies again.  I have come too far to give up this quit.  I’ll be restarting that fight, effective 23 minutes ago.  I will wake up in the morning, and I will not smoke, no matter what.  I have patches and lozenges and I will use my tools.

 

What Six Years Taught Me About My Past

Six years ago today (according to my WordPress QuoteBox thingie), I registered RosieSmrtiePants as my very first (and hopefully only) blog.  I didn’t know the exact date, but I knew it was creeping up.  So, blogging since 2008.  What’s that like?

Well, it’s really pretty anticlimactic.  I would like to sit down at some point and read RosieSmrtiePants telling it like it is for the last 400+ posts.  I’m trying to decide at this point, however, if that would be a joyful experience, or if it would just dredge up old crap that is better left un-dredged.

Yes, I do use my blog as a way to go back in time and see what worked and what didn’t, to remind myself of certain things, and I would like to think there is something to be learned in every single blog entry, but let’s be honest here…I’m scared.  My past used to be a big, huge scary thing that loomed behind me, kind of like a big bloated cloud loaded with acid rain, that I would look over my shoulder at, and run even faster toward whatever my goal-of-the-moment was.

It’s not like that anymore, exactly, mostly due to the passage of time, skills used, productive therapy sessions, and the support of my A-team.  But it’s still scary.  It just doesn’t loom anymore.  It’s on the ground, not up high, getting ready to topple down on me.  It’s smaller and more manageable, but still kinda scary, maybe sort of like a mildly rabid squirrel or a slow-moving zombie.  Ya know, it’s not a real threat, but it still kind of gives you the heebie jeebies.  It’s like that.

But still, this blog is a tool.  Whether or not I choose to look back, I think I’m going to put off that decision for now.  There are actually a lot of big decisions that I’m going to just ride out for now.  I’m gonna concentrate on more in-my-face issues like quitting smoking and being a new auntie and getting back into DBT again.  Because right now, here in this moment, those are the things that make me  happy and healthy, mentally and physically.  Isn’t that what life’s all about?

 

Smoking Confession

I quit smoking almost two months ago.  Actually, exactly two months and ten hours ago.  And then, this past week, while struggling with every personal demon within myself, I smoked.  I didn’t smoke one cigarette, or take just one puff.  I spent two days, smoking two packs of cigarettes.  I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, other than, “How am I going to conceal this from everyone?” and “What am I going to do next?” and then freaking out, “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, what did I do?!?”

I am so fucking disappointed in myself.  I lost a lot of ground in those two days.  You might be surprised to know this, but, after almost two months, I was getting my wind back pretty well, but two packs of cigarettes set me back almost a month.  If not more.  I’m coughing, hacking…again.  My nose is alternately stopped up and running.  And I just.can’t.breathe.  It is the worst feeling in the world, because I did this to myself.

I know what I need to do.  Part of it, I have already done.  I have hopped back on the no-smoking bandwagon.  I have a patch on.  I have lozenges available.  I am getting out and about with non-smoking people.  I am focused and determined.  I am going to approach quitting smoking like I approached quitting drinking.

Except this will be harder.  With drinking, I became convinced that alcohol was literally poison.  Even one sip would change my brain chemicals and alter my mood.  One day, out of the blue, I just quit.  I didn’t have a serious problem, or even a mild problem, so maybe that is why it was so easy.  After some thought, and thinking of alcohol then (and now), as poison (literally poison to my neurochemically addled brain), I have been completely alcohol-free for almost two years.  And it wasn’t that hard.

Smoking is so much harder.  Smoking was my “thing.”  I did it to celebrate everything, when I was sad, when I was manic, after I ate, in the car, during half-time at sporting events, to wake myself up in the morning, after sex, all.the.time.  Maybe that’s why it is so hard, because it is tied to so many things.

I think what makes it a million times harder is that DSB smokes, and he won’t go outside.  He talks about putting his cigarettes away, so I won’t be able to get to them, and then he doesn’t.  Half the time he won’t crack a window open.  I have to get up and do it myself.

DSB is a great guy and very supportive in many ways, but he is definitely “bad boyfriend” on this front.  He is so completely  unsupportive of me quitting smoking, it’s laughable.  He says he thinks I can quit, but then he inadvertently throws smoking right back in my face.  He thinks I should be able to just not grab a pack of cigarettes, or a cigarette if they’re sitting out somewhere.  Maybe he’s right, but I know I can’t, and I’ve told him that to no avail.  I think he hopes I won’t really quit.  That is all I can learn from this behavior.

And I’m not blaming this all on DSB.  I am simply saying that quitting a habit is very hard to do when your significant other participates fully in that habit.  And 66% of my support system are smokers.  These are the people I see on a day to day basis.  This is a part of why smoking is constantly on my mind.  There is always a cigarette burning, and, well, it smells good and is just so tempting.

Ah fuck it.  I don’t know what else to say about this that doesn’t make me sound like a whiny loser that desperately wants a cigarette.  I am determined to turn this around.  I just really feel like the odds are stacked against me.

Words for Now and The New Year

Reverb13 prompt for December 17th is as follows:   What word did you select to be your travelling companion in 2013? What gifts did this word bring?  What word will you choose to guide you through 2014? What do you hope it will bring into your life?

Because my brain couldn’t fathom the first part of this year, I read blog entries from earlier this year, and it appears that I was in survival mode, not really choosing any word persay to be a “travelling companion.”  In the latter part of the year, I think I chose to focus on the word “recovery,” because that was what I was doing — entering recovery.  For really, the first time ever.

That probably sounds a little dramatic, but it’s true.  I got this idea in my head that life could be better and that it could stay that way.  So I worked and worked on the little things that made my recovery happen, and now I sit here, a few weeks out from 2014 and I can say that I feel “in recovery” from my mental health issues.  Do I thin k they will flare at some point in time?  Absolutely, but I am doing what I can every day to keep myself under control and do the things that work for me.

The gifts that recovery has brought to my life are priceless.  It has brought me into a much deeper and healthy relationship with DSB.  It has allowed me to be closer to my mom and my dad.  It has meant that most nights I sleep well, and I don’t look for trouble.  It has given me the security to start letting go…of therapy, of worry, of guilt, of fear.  I feel like there are parts of me now that have at leas partially healed, that I didn’t think ever would.

I don’t like to predict the future, but I think in 2014 I will be carrying the word, “hope,” with me.  Hope that I can continue to improve personally and in my relationships.  Hope that I can keep my smoking quit going, that I can lose weight, and start to exercise some.  That I can keep setting goals and achieving them.

I hope these goals bring into my life more structure, happiness, and beauty.  I know I need to take better care of myself, and here I am, end of 2013 already working on it.  And in 2014, I want to see the following stats keep going higher and higer:

Three weeks, one day, 11 hours, 35 minutes and 24 seconds. 1348 cigarettes not smoked, saving $171.32. Life saved: 4 days, 16 hours, 20 minutes.

I simply can’t fathom the number of cigarettes I haven’t smoked.  Amazing.  And it is getting easier by the day.  If you are smoking and thinking of quitting, give it some more thought — I never thought it would be so rewarding or how much better  I would feel.  Sweet success.

Day Fourteen Reverb13

Day Fourteen of Reverb13’s prompt is as follows:

What was the best decision you made in 2013? What were the results? How will you continue the good work in 2014?

The best decision I made in 2013 was to start working toward becoming a physically healthier person.  Reaching the ripe old age of 32 this year, I realized that, given my weight and the fact of smoking and fatty foods, it was just a short matter of time before my situation would become dire.  Diabetes runs in my family, and I did not want to go down that road.  At this point, I already have high blood pressure and sleep apnea.  I did not want to develop any more weight-related conditions.

The first step I took was to quit smoking.  It made sense to me, because I want to be able to exercise (even just walking would be great) and am unable to do so due to being so out-of-breath after just the slightest bit of activity.  I also have asthma which is poorly controlled, mostly due to smoking and a bit also due to infrequent use of my daily scheduled inhalers.

So far, quitting smoking has been less difficult than I expected.  I do have a bit of a harder time because DSB and my mom smoke, but it seems they are happy to at least open a window when I am in their vicinity.  While not a perfect situation, it does help.

I plan to carry this foward in to 2014 by just sticking to the regemine of nicotine patches and lozenges, and reaffirming my willpower minute by minute.  I know I really don’t want to smoke anymore, know that in my head finally, so hopefully that will make it easier.