Old Home Week, a la Facebook

So I've been cruising around the Facebook site, typing in the names from my sordid past (that I can remember) and seeing if they're signed up...

It's all very surreal, since I've fallen out of touch with 90% of them...no, make that 99%...

Now that I've sent out dozens of friend requests, I now have to actually interact and answer messages, and remember to sign on more than once a month. As I've said before, I'm really crappy at this sort of "social networking" sort of thing--both in real life and online.

I keep telling myself that now that we have a house, we can start having friends over, but the reality is between the construction and the unpacked (or partially unpacked) boxes everywhere, there's been no space or time for visiting. I'm trying to purge as I unpack, but it's all so time consuming and overwhelming. I keep having the urge to just cram stuff into storage or the pump house and ignore it for a while....but then I need something that is buried in one of the boxes, and things get dragged back in and strewn about. 

What I need is a wife. Or for TTK to be more involved in other aspects of the house besides HIS room, HIS stuff. There's a LOT of OUR stuff to be dealt with, but it seems that I get to do it all myself. GRRRRRR.

But, he is the "breadwinner" of our little family of two--all of his time is spent at the office in San Francisco--so he is doing his share for keeping us solvent. I just wish it included a bit more physical presence and effort, rather than him being gone all the time.

Yes, my new office position is in the corner of the main room, so I get to "survey my domain" and see all the boxes and the cat tumbleweeds and the mess...so of course I am posting about it.

Wheee! [THUD]

Are you Registered?

You know me. You know I NEVER speak about politics, or religion with people, since there's so much hate and vitriol involved with those subjects...BUT I am breaking my own rule here because this is VERY dear to my heart.


My sister's wedding got me to thinking:

She's been in her relationship for as long as I have been with TTK. She has two kids with her partner, even...and yet until now she has not been able to be legally married. UNTIL NOW.
11 YEARS she and Anne have been together, have been in love and as one, and they only just now get to legalize that love and that commitment. WOW. Such an incredibly wonderful thing, I just wanted to cry thinking about it. Instead, I went here (California link) and reregistered to VOTE (since we moved and all)...

I encourage ALL of you to do the same--this is a really important election! There are people who don't consider gay people to be normal or acceptable, and so not allowed to be legally married. This time around, they're going for the state constitution, since what had gotten passed before in the year 2000 (proposition 22) was just an addition to the California Civil Code, and was overruled by a 2005 bill that passed the California Legislature, A.B. 849. Schwarzenegger promptly vetoed A.B. 849. (shot down, thanks Arnie.)

People sued against the fairness of 22, and the apellate court overturned 22 as unconstitutional. So, the latest proposition, proposition 8, is directly aimed at changing the constitution. Do you know what a bad thing that is? I can't even begin to explain, with my limited political terminology and rusty skills, how big of a deal it is to actually change the constitution.

Think of the constitution as the foundation of the house, and all the statutes and codes as walls and paint and surface changes--that later voters can adjust according to the times. But the constitution is the FOUNDATION--none of the surface stuff that gets passed can CHANGE that foundation. Amendments alter the foundation. There's such a far-reaching impact of amendments, that any proposition that is going for the foundation of the country/state/organization/government needs to be scrutinized to a much higher degree.

Usually I cast a dubious eye on anything in wikipedia, since I have found so many mistakes, erroneous facts, and outright lies and bias that I check other, more reputable sources before turning to wikipedia...but, in this case, there's actually a well-written, extensively annotated and researched article about this current issue, so if you want to know what's going on beyond the fear tactics and misleading statements in the political ads for this, go check out these pages, and take your research out from there.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_Proposition_22_(2000)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_Proposition_8_(2008)

So that's my foray into politics.
And it is motivated by love, not fear or superiority or distrust or any of the things I see as the basis of prop. 8.

NO ON PROP 8!

I love my sister, even if she is making me wear brown for her wedding. ;-)
(it's CALLED chocolate, but that's just a tasty attempt to confuse me. See, I know she's allergic to chocolate, so it's really just a dark brown. I'd believe it more if she'd said her wedding color was espresso. Heh--Espresso, Cream, Persimmon, and Moss. Except for the moss, it sounds like a new fall beverage at Starbucks. Heh. Just a little humor for those of you who made it to the end of my political rhetoric.)

Happy Anniversary!!!!

You know how occasionally you have a one-night-stand that doesn't know when to LEAVE the next morning?

On this date 12 years ago, TTK came over to give me a backrub...ended up staying all night...and at some point we had sex, then talked about it and both decided we weren't into casual sex and wanted a relationship.

So basically, he was the one-night-stand that didn't leave. Heh.

Our other version is that I saw him online, decided I liked him, and stalked him for six months...clubbed him in the head and dragged him back to my lair.

Or I stalked him, but got tired so declared celibacy from all relationships...then a week later when I was on ICB I announced I would "kill or die for a backrub." Seconds later a private message came, from TTK, "I'll give you one!"

I panicked, said "how about tomorrow?" 

he came over the next night, and once again never left.

Heh.

I proposed for months, at random moments, and one day (at a random moment!) he said, "Yes, I'll marry you."

The rest I'll tell you later, but I'll leave you with this...

He's been packing his things very randomly. 

Last night we discovered that he packed the condoms.

[THUD]

As our searching got more frantic, realization dawned in TTK that they were in a box we had just taken to the new place...he shamefacedly and slowly told me...and I started cracking up.

talk about a buzzkill!

Ah, to be an inept teenager again...

Friendship.

I'm a crappy friend.
I not only admit this fully, I also KNOW it to the core of my bones.

It's just that communication is so hard sometimes...

I think about my friends, and my family, all of the time...but I just can't seem to reach out very well.

In college I was always amazed and jealous at the people who could surround themselves with others, who could have a network of friends who cared about them, and seemed to genuinely care about all the people and not just have a superficial relationship.

I don't want to isolate myself, but I can't seem to do anything else BUT isolate myself. It takes so much to interact that it is exhausting.
I don't know where I am going with this...I guess it's just an open apology to everyone who has tried to be friends with or care about me.

Touchdown, we have touchdown...

WE CLOSED ESCROW!!!!


As of June 2, 2008 we are now landowners. Houseowners.
Slaves, as one of my friends said. Slaves to a house, yes, but no longer slaves to a land lord.

The sellers are still living there, though--in the contract they asked for a rentback until June 15th.

So, we're not fully in possession, yet.

And when they move out, we can't just move in...there's a lot of work to be done before we can...

We need to tent the studio for termites, replace its roof, tear out the carpeting, and paint the outside and a few other things. I dunno how long I can wait, though--some of the work (like renovating the kitchen) may just have to wait until AFTER we've moved in: I want OUT of this house so bad, I just can't stand it.
I cannot wait 2 more months or really even a month--I want to move NOW. I want to move YESTERDAY. I want a garden. I want a nice chicken coop for my chickens. I want to get my snakes out of their slum lord housing and into nice cages and setups. I want a desk that is not stuck on the end of the couch. I want a real couch, not an ancient futon on a cheap wooden frame.
I want I want I want I want.
{isigh}


With ttk's new job I get to see him for about an hour a night during the week--I don't know how I am going to do this alone. that's what it feels like--that he is so exhausted from work that I am going to be the one organizing our move, getting a contractor, getting a housecleaner for both places, getting stuff packed, purged, prepped, moved, organized, sorted, settled. Getting the house painted and floors installed. I don't know if I can do this.
Well, do it I must, but I just had to vent...I'm a little scared. No buyer's remorse, though--we've had too much time in escrow for that.
We're not giving notice for a few months so we can get all the work done, and have time to move calmly, although we seem to get more done under pressure. I won't say "work well" because we barely hold it together, and make stupid mistakes, but we seem to waste a lot of time before we knuckle down and get to it. With extra time, that's just extra worry time and lazing time.


We shall see, right?

The year of pain.

Well, I wanted to write a year-ending/new beginning post way back in January, when the new year officially began, but I've come to the realization that starting around December I head into brumation (the reptiles have it right!) and don't really come out of it until the start of March or so. Witness the pattern of my last 5 years or so of blog entries, and you'll notice big gaps in posting frequency, the presence of pale, humorless entries during my time of withdrawal, depression, brumation. (I wish I could be reptilian enough to not eat, not move much, and just drink a little water from time to time while waiting for the warmth and light to return to my life.)

So here's my philosophical year-end review. If you're at all medically squeamish, just stop here. I won't tell. ;-)

I call 2007 my Year of Trying to Die.
My Ulcerative Colitis had come out of remission in 2006, and I went to my doctor in SF, she did a colonoscopy, and prescribed me steroid enemas and a triple dose of asacol. (Enemas are evil. That's all I'm going to say on the matter.) (Have I mentioned I have what my friend likes to call a "feces issue?") By December or so, I was still hurting A LOT, but she ran a blood test and found no infection from the results of the blood test, and declared me well, except for some "irritable bowel syndrome" brought on by the "Inflammatory Bowel Disease" (UC--just so you have all the terms) and prescribed me Lomotil, an anti-diarrheal.

So, through December and January, though I was feeling worse and worse, and it got to the point where whenever I ate anything I would be in the bathroom constantly, I didn't call her back since I was "cured." In February of 2007, my GP told me he thought since my symptoms were worsening, that I obviously WASN'T better, and would I go to someone local for a second opinion. I agreed, and said specialist decided to schedule ANOTHER colonoscopy (can I just say here, how bloody unpleasant these are?). He found that I had, indeed, active disease 20 centimeters up my descending colon. Now, it was obvious that the Asacol was not working, and I would NOT do the ever-so-painful steroid enemas again, so he decided that before we brought out the so-called "big guns" of Remicaide or Humera, that we should try oral steroids.

Mind you, I was diagnosed as a bi-polar 10 years or so ago, about a year after the brain surgery (old history--it's just that it's all daisy-chained together, so if you don't know the past you won't understand the present :-/) and that's when it became known that steroids were contraindicated in my case. In other words, steroids are a BIG BAD thing. (I ended up in the hospital with Steroid Psychosis after the surgery, because they used megadoses of them to try to shrink the tumor and compact the tumor to make it easier to remove. Or something.)
Nothing like an extreme psychotic episode while dizzy, disoriented, and partially deaf, to really make your day. Week. Year. Life.
But, I digress. back to the gut.

Since a new form of oral steroid had come out that was supposedly 80% absorbed in the liver after it did its work (and so kept from being "systematic"), Dr. Denigris put me on that. I think TTK and I knew, even before a week had passed, that this was Not A Good Thing. Not only was I weak and in pain, I was snappy, vicious, (more) unpredictable, and generally heading psychotic on the little red and brown steroid bus. This was now about March of 2007, and I was so exhausted and weak that I had to quit my classes a the JC. I was pretty much housebound at this point, and my food options had narrowed to about 8 things. Milk, milk, and more milk, with protein powder and Ovaltine (we call them "Provaltines), baked potato, rice, and fruit. Nausea was a constant companion at this point, as was pain and depression. Thanks, steroids, and body!

I tapered myself off of them, to the dismay of all my doctors, and refused to take them again, EVER. Which now meant that we had tried all the low-level options, and we could now press my insurance company to cover the Remicaide (ahh, now you see! It's all about the money!). Considering the stuff is about $600 a vial, and I need 4 at a time, plus the $5K per visit at a specialist clinic, it's understandable that money would rear its ugly head.

By June I had lost about 25 pounds, and was almost completely homebound--in our filthy little hovel, since I had so very little strength to clean or even walk across the room.

Paperwork still processing...July, August...
September. I was down 40 pounds from 190, to 150. I was weak and dizzy and depressed. I was also FINALLY approved for the Remicade.
First infusion was in September. Second one was 2 weeks later, third one is was the 6 week mark, and now it's every 8 weeks for a year.
By October I was having no blood, no infection/mucus/icky bodily functions 5 times a day, basically all FABULOUS news.

I started gaining a little bit of weight even--stabilizing at 157.
I was still exhausted though, and I asked my GP for a blood test. Seems we hadn't done one since March...turns out I was SEVERELY anemic--to the point that my doctor said that if I was 10 years older he would have insisted I get a transfusion.

So I was put on iron supplements, 3 times a day. My energy started picking up, to the point that we could actually go down to family for Thanksgiving in November, after my infusion.
We went to see ttk's grandmothers and family for Christmas (we actually flew out xmas day, to Texas, which was quite surreal)...my next infusion was January 20th, and the most recent one was March 12 or something.

In January of last year, we were given a gift of stock from ttk's parents, and we decided we could finally afford to buy most of a house (and get a loan for the rest!)...by the time we sold the stock, I was already heading down so far health-wise, and we were only able to go out and look twice before I gave up with the body battle.

Until you've been seriously ill, you can't really know what it's like, IMO. Just like I'll never know what pregnancy and labor is like. I really withdrew and closed off--I think I had TWO people come and visit me the entire time I was housebound. None of my family even came to visit me. It may be because I never really let on how sick I was. Maybe. I mostly blame the pathetic littleness of our current house, since there's not even any room for company to SIT since either end of our couch functions as TTK's desk, and my desk. Mostly.

So, that was my year. Our cats Needles and Tasha both died--the former from old age, gently, and the latter from a violent accident. Two of my favorite little chatty ridiculous chicken died--one crushed accidentally by me knocking over a piece of plywood, the other by ttk accidentally dropping a bale of hay on her. So many deaths. Sad thing is, I can't remember if it was last year that both Fizzbnn and Atlantis died. The year before it was Daisy, Azrael, and FatBoy. All ferrets...all who I promised would have a great room to play in when we moved to our new house--this place was supposed to be a temporary stop before we bought our own place. We moved in here March 2002 ! We figured we would be here for a YEAR and it's now been SIX crowded, crude, dirty little years.

My goals for this year?
Move to our new place without losing my mind, melting down, or hurting any of my friends and family who have offered to help.
Start a garden and start getting regular exercise.
Figure out (and maybe solve?) this damn insomnia bullshit--perhaps by going to a sleep study center.
Get all my critters into nice cages.
Throw a party or three!
Purge excess baggage.

There's probably a lot more that I could write, but for now I'll leave it here.

ps the spell check on blogger doesn't recognize the word "colonoscopy." Or "brumation."
Sigh. The dumbing down of America.

Perchance to...

"If there's any illness for which people offer many remedies, you may be sure that particular illness is incurable..." -Leonid Andreyevitch Gaev, in Anton Chekov's The Cherry Orchard, 1916.

"Try a little hot milk"... "A shot of whiskey does it for me every time"... "Stop worrying so much" ... "Counting down from 100 works.".. "have you heard of melatonin?" ... "Take GABA" ..."Marijuana helps me" "definitely DO NOT try counting" "Don't eat anything before bed" "Sleeping pills work great" "Sleeping pills don't do anything" You just need self-disclipline" "It has nothing to do with what you do, it's a problem with your brain" "Exercise at least a half an hour each day" "try Valerian" "just try to relax"

The problem is, insomnia is not only an illness that stands alone in its own right, but also is a symptom for dozens of other underlying issues, and is also caused by certain lifestyle choices,
so what works for Tom isn't necessarily going to work for Bobby or Susan.

Now that the Ulcerative Colitis is mostly under control, and the migraines are managed with pain medication, the next thing to try to fix is the insomnia. Wish me luck.