I have reread my entries for the last month or two, and it is easy for me to see in them that my stress level was rising. It is a bit lower, now that I've been taking it easy for almost a month. Piss & vinegar make me want to write, so unless I redirect my tendency for bitching (I get a laugh out of it, but I'm not sure anyone else does) into non-anger/stress driven humor, this blog might turn boring.
I can see the funny in situations that weren't, but I think I'm the only one there who will look back on it and laugh. Sometimes I say or do things just so I can laugh about it later.
I have Tourette's. I have never had the part of the syndrome where you randomly shout out swear words, thank God. But I have wondered if being a "blurter" as my family calls it, is the better behaved sister of the swear word blurting. The "twitches", shoulder jerking, throat clearing, finger flicking, eye blinking etc.. come and go, switch sides after years for no reason, and basically have a mind of their own. Some of them are quite painful and relentless.
As a little kid, the eye blinking was the first thing I noticed. My Mom would say that she thought I must be tired, when she noticed me doing it. But there was no name for it. I would lie in bed trying to go to sleep, and I could feel the blinking muscles going full out. It didn't make any sense to me; my eyes were closed, but my body kept trying to keep up the rapid blinking. I have been lucky, in that I can try to hide some of the twitches. In high school, because of the blinking, classmates would ask me if I wore contact lenses, I don't, but the other symptoms were mostly in remission or slight most of the time, back then, so I don't think anyone really saw much of anything.
Now, my husband will tell me when my symptoms are strong, because I can be twitching away, and not be conscious of it. The medicines for it suck, so I take one that doesn't control the twitches as well, but it doesn't make me too miserable with side affects. Contrary to most of the liturature you will find about Tourette's syndrome, my symptoms have gotten stronger as I have gotten older.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Mr. Savant Returns to College
Our youngest son is 21, and if you have read some of my previous entries, you will know that he became schizophrenic around the time of his 18th birthday. His life skills and plans were shattered. He is brilliant and usually pleasant, unless he goes off his medications. (He chose the pseudonym "Idiot Like a Savant" for my blog.)
He was recently given official disability status by the Department of Social Security. We first applied about three years ago and they lost his paper work, but didn't know he was in the group that had their applications mysteriously disappear, until we called to ask why we had never heard back from them. We went through the application process again. After a while, we got a letter from them saying that none of the doctors or hospitals had sent them the records they had requested. We were asked to see if we could gather the records for them, but just a few days later we received a rejection letter before we had even had a chance to begin gathering his records.
We gave up until recently. The last time he was in the hospital, I drove straight to their office and set things in motion again. This time he was approved. The Social Security administration will pay the applicant all of the money they would have received, had they been approved on their first application, plus a monthly stipend to live on, his medical care, etc..
He can not manage his own money, so his Dad will be his representative.
The real reason I started this entry is that Savant moved into his dorm Friday. He has been so bored, and seems delighted to have this chance to try school again. Though he has only completed two semesters, he earned many credit hours in high school and by taking CLEP tests, so he is a Junior. One of the perks of being an upper classman is that he has an on-campus apartment instead of a cramped dorm room. We don't know if he will have a roommate. The housing office has a letter from a past psychiatrist, the last time he went to school, requesting that he have a private room to reduce the possibility of an adverse reaction to the stress it would cause him.
Remembering to take his medicine has been much harder than you would think, but he has been doing much better about it lately. I also think that the dramatic rise in the amount of time Savant has been able to spend with his father, during his Dad's vacation, has been very beneficial to him. My husband works 7 days a week during the Habitat For Humanity build season and we all really miss him. They don't do any builds during the winter, so we have all been happier to have him home with us. There is still lots of office work to prepare for the building season of 2006, but we get to have him home on weekends.
Since he is the "Big Cheese" in the construction department, he is trying to hire more competent helpers and to change things so that he will have at least one day a week off, hopefully two, and a chance to squeeze in a few games of golf every now and then. He deserves it; I've never met a harder worker.
He was recently given official disability status by the Department of Social Security. We first applied about three years ago and they lost his paper work, but didn't know he was in the group that had their applications mysteriously disappear, until we called to ask why we had never heard back from them. We went through the application process again. After a while, we got a letter from them saying that none of the doctors or hospitals had sent them the records they had requested. We were asked to see if we could gather the records for them, but just a few days later we received a rejection letter before we had even had a chance to begin gathering his records.
We gave up until recently. The last time he was in the hospital, I drove straight to their office and set things in motion again. This time he was approved. The Social Security administration will pay the applicant all of the money they would have received, had they been approved on their first application, plus a monthly stipend to live on, his medical care, etc..
He can not manage his own money, so his Dad will be his representative.
The real reason I started this entry is that Savant moved into his dorm Friday. He has been so bored, and seems delighted to have this chance to try school again. Though he has only completed two semesters, he earned many credit hours in high school and by taking CLEP tests, so he is a Junior. One of the perks of being an upper classman is that he has an on-campus apartment instead of a cramped dorm room. We don't know if he will have a roommate. The housing office has a letter from a past psychiatrist, the last time he went to school, requesting that he have a private room to reduce the possibility of an adverse reaction to the stress it would cause him.
Remembering to take his medicine has been much harder than you would think, but he has been doing much better about it lately. I also think that the dramatic rise in the amount of time Savant has been able to spend with his father, during his Dad's vacation, has been very beneficial to him. My husband works 7 days a week during the Habitat For Humanity build season and we all really miss him. They don't do any builds during the winter, so we have all been happier to have him home with us. There is still lots of office work to prepare for the building season of 2006, but we get to have him home on weekends.
Since he is the "Big Cheese" in the construction department, he is trying to hire more competent helpers and to change things so that he will have at least one day a week off, hopefully two, and a chance to squeeze in a few games of golf every now and then. He deserves it; I've never met a harder worker.
Stress->Pain->Migraine->Depression->Basil Fawlty
A.Beauty is back in the states now.
I got sick in Italy and we had to leave early. She was wonderful. I know it couldn't have been easy for her to deal with the situation. I was very stressed before I left, but a vacation turned out to be the wrong cure. I was getting out and doing touristy things for the first few days, two of them were in London, before I met A.Beauty in Rome. I did get to see some of the Rome must-sees and had a great day in Pompeii, but I had been tolerating neck and body pain and a pre-migraine headache that morphed into a bad Migraine that left me unable to leave the room after that. I had brought some old Imitrex with me, but I had too few.
What made it even more difficult is that we were changing cities every day or two, and we had all of A.Beauty's belongings with us, because she was not going back to Rome. I was a useless vegetable. She was wonderful and continued to see the sights everywhere we went.
Stress->Pain->Migraine->Depression->Basil Fawlty.
I was so outraged at the hotel in Siena where we had no heat the first night, we were freezing!And we were rationed 8 hours of heat per 24 the next. The migraine hit full force after spending the first night dressed in multiple layers of clothes, and using towels and our coats in addition to the bedding to keep from freezing. They did not answer the phone all night.
When we checked out I restated my displeasure with their policy of withholding heat from their guests. They were RUDE!! A simple sticker on the heater, warning of their peculiar policy, would have been nice. A warning on their web page would have been even better, so that travelers could stay somewhere else.
I did not conceal my anger, but I did hold back on my overwhelming urge to break into a full, John Cleese as Basil Fawlty rant, ie: "Rationing?! The war ended 60 Bloody years ago! You'd all be speaking German if it wasn't for us!" This would, of course, be accompanied by the high goose-step with two fingers held in mustache position. I decided that I didn't want that to be among the memories of "Mom" that would be told around the Thanksgiving table for generations to come. Though I would get a great laugh if it was!
My perceptive daughter called her Dad and they arranged to get me home asap. I spent the next 2 1/2 weeks in bed in a state of mental mush, with some new Imitrex and Rx for the bronchitis and associated infections that came along for the ride.
"The boot" has been crossed off of my future vacations list; but Venice, which is not in said boot, is still on it, unless I find out the average Venetian is rude, lies, and will shove you down while you are trying to exit a train with your luggage.
We vacationed in Paris a few years ago. Go there. Overall, the Parisians were polite, helpful and classy. And the city really is as beautiful as it is said to be. Don't believe the rumors that say Americans won't feel welcome there.
I got sick in Italy and we had to leave early. She was wonderful. I know it couldn't have been easy for her to deal with the situation. I was very stressed before I left, but a vacation turned out to be the wrong cure. I was getting out and doing touristy things for the first few days, two of them were in London, before I met A.Beauty in Rome. I did get to see some of the Rome must-sees and had a great day in Pompeii, but I had been tolerating neck and body pain and a pre-migraine headache that morphed into a bad Migraine that left me unable to leave the room after that. I had brought some old Imitrex with me, but I had too few.
What made it even more difficult is that we were changing cities every day or two, and we had all of A.Beauty's belongings with us, because she was not going back to Rome. I was a useless vegetable. She was wonderful and continued to see the sights everywhere we went.
Stress->Pain->Migraine->Depression->Basil Fawlty.
I was so outraged at the hotel in Siena where we had no heat the first night, we were freezing!And we were rationed 8 hours of heat per 24 the next. The migraine hit full force after spending the first night dressed in multiple layers of clothes, and using towels and our coats in addition to the bedding to keep from freezing. They did not answer the phone all night.
When we checked out I restated my displeasure with their policy of withholding heat from their guests. They were RUDE!! A simple sticker on the heater, warning of their peculiar policy, would have been nice. A warning on their web page would have been even better, so that travelers could stay somewhere else.
I did not conceal my anger, but I did hold back on my overwhelming urge to break into a full, John Cleese as Basil Fawlty rant, ie: "Rationing?! The war ended 60 Bloody years ago! You'd all be speaking German if it wasn't for us!" This would, of course, be accompanied by the high goose-step with two fingers held in mustache position. I decided that I didn't want that to be among the memories of "Mom" that would be told around the Thanksgiving table for generations to come. Though I would get a great laugh if it was!
My perceptive daughter called her Dad and they arranged to get me home asap. I spent the next 2 1/2 weeks in bed in a state of mental mush, with some new Imitrex and Rx for the bronchitis and associated infections that came along for the ride.
"The boot" has been crossed off of my future vacations list; but Venice, which is not in said boot, is still on it, unless I find out the average Venetian is rude, lies, and will shove you down while you are trying to exit a train with your luggage.
We vacationed in Paris a few years ago. Go there. Overall, the Parisians were polite, helpful and classy. And the city really is as beautiful as it is said to be. Don't believe the rumors that say Americans won't feel welcome there.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
WWJD: What Would Jackie Do?
"What Would Jackie Do", I was so surprised to see this book title at Costco, because I've been using that phrase ever since I saw my first WWJD bracelet. They are popular here in the bible belt, What Would Jesus Do, for those of you that don't know what I'm talking about. I was never going to write a book on it, but I thought it was my own little private joke. Jackie Kennedy, for those of you who still don't know who I am talking about.
I started asking myself that question when posed with a dilemma where the classy response was what I desired. I haven't perfected it yet, but I have WWJD there as my guide toward a better me.
I started asking myself that question when posed with a dilemma where the classy response was what I desired. I haven't perfected it yet, but I have WWJD there as my guide toward a better me.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Childhood Memories: From Rattlesnakes to JFK
I lived in Austin Texas for part of my childhood, and had a run-in with a rattlesnake once. That was when I realized that I do not have a natural fear of snakes.
It was at night, at summer camp. I was walking down a path to the latrine using my flash light, when I heard the rattles under a bush right beside the path. The flash light revealed a big, coiled up rattler, about two feet from me. I just stood there looking at it and when someone else came by, to use the latrine, I asked them to tell a counselor that there was a rattlesnake by the path.
I don't know if the light from the flash light made any difference to the snake, but I just stayed there with it, and it didn't move. I was very unhappy that when the grown-ups got there they killed it; I naively thought they would just relocate it. It didn't seem like it wanted to hurt anyone.
I rode horses frequently in Texas, so I always felt safe if I saw tarantulas, snakes, scorpions, etc., while riding. By the way, the stings I got from Texas scorpions, hurt less than a bee sting.
When we were little we lived in Japan, and my brother would catch various big beetles with huge pinchers and put them in jars for us to marvel at. I've never seen any like them anywhere else.
Then, there was the time I walked up to a black bear in the Smokey Mts., to take his picture. I thought they were used to posing for pictures. Warning - they are not tame! Luckily, I made it back into the car before he had to get serious with me!
One last story.
On November 22nd, 1963, when President Kennedy was assassinated, I went to O'Henry Jr. High School, in Austin, Texas, the same school that Governor John Connally's daughter, Sharon, went to. I was getting out early that day to go to Bergstrom Air Force Base to greet The President on the tarmac when he arrived from Dallas (my dad was an officer in the Air Force). I had my permit to leave, and passed Sharon in the hall. She was crying and being comforted. There had been no announcement over the P.A. yet, so I didn't know why she was sad. When I got in the car, my mother told me what happened, so that explained Sharon's distress. Like everyone else, we spent the rest of the day glued to the TV.
It was at night, at summer camp. I was walking down a path to the latrine using my flash light, when I heard the rattles under a bush right beside the path. The flash light revealed a big, coiled up rattler, about two feet from me. I just stood there looking at it and when someone else came by, to use the latrine, I asked them to tell a counselor that there was a rattlesnake by the path.
I don't know if the light from the flash light made any difference to the snake, but I just stayed there with it, and it didn't move. I was very unhappy that when the grown-ups got there they killed it; I naively thought they would just relocate it. It didn't seem like it wanted to hurt anyone.
I rode horses frequently in Texas, so I always felt safe if I saw tarantulas, snakes, scorpions, etc., while riding. By the way, the stings I got from Texas scorpions, hurt less than a bee sting.
When we were little we lived in Japan, and my brother would catch various big beetles with huge pinchers and put them in jars for us to marvel at. I've never seen any like them anywhere else.
Then, there was the time I walked up to a black bear in the Smokey Mts., to take his picture. I thought they were used to posing for pictures. Warning - they are not tame! Luckily, I made it back into the car before he had to get serious with me!
One last story.
On November 22nd, 1963, when President Kennedy was assassinated, I went to O'Henry Jr. High School, in Austin, Texas, the same school that Governor John Connally's daughter, Sharon, went to. I was getting out early that day to go to Bergstrom Air Force Base to greet The President on the tarmac when he arrived from Dallas (my dad was an officer in the Air Force). I had my permit to leave, and passed Sharon in the hall. She was crying and being comforted. There had been no announcement over the P.A. yet, so I didn't know why she was sad. When I got in the car, my mother told me what happened, so that explained Sharon's distress. Like everyone else, we spent the rest of the day glued to the TV.
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