Stranger Danger!

So, we are FINALLY moved. Still a lot of unpacking and a bit of frustration, but isn’t that to be expected when you have three weeks to find a place and move to a different state, all while finishing up your last course before you graduate with a MS in clinical psychology with a specialization in applied research, while also living with the lovely symptoms of fibromyalgia and most likely stress-induced fainting?

The new place is nice and is the first one in a while where there was carpet. Our neurotic dog Downey, as well as myself, appreciate it. One thing that I am not digging though, is the weird and creepy owner of the house. See, we went through a property management agency, which has not been too weird in the past when we used one when we moved to New Mexico. However, this guy, see, we have lived here all of a week and he has come by twice, yesterday and today, to water our yard. Normally that wouldn’t qualify as being creepy, but, dude, he has a strange vibe. Sort of like a person who you just KNOW has a body or two in his basement. Normal weird and strange, I can dig, but this is just... different. It has also rained since he came over last (yesterday), so I don’t know why he is back again to water.

I don’t know about you, but I have a hard time relaxing when there are strangers (or even non-strangers) in my house or on my property. As someone living with a chronic pain condition, the added stress of having a property owner lurking around is just something I do not need. We have been here a week. A. Week. Now, tell me how I am supposed to relax in the few hours a week I get that isn’t devoted to cleaning, school, work, other job work, taking care of our non-human friends, etc… when there is a weirdo creeping around outside. I hope that Strange Steve will make his presence scarce once he sees that we will take care of his place. However, isn’t that what a property manager is supposed to do? To manage your property as an intermediary so that you can rest assured that your home would be cared for by the tenants who rent from the property manager?

I will keep you updated.

Uprooting and Stress: Is There a Better Way?

Imagine this with explosive diarrhea

     

Nature's Pain Relief

       Dude. I don’t even know where to start. It has been such a whirlwind and at times it feels as if I am barely hanging on, fingers about to slip into the swirling vortex of stress, anxiety, and, at times, depression. Fun times, right? Let’s not forget about the physical effects of this emotional turmoil, as I live with fibromyalgia and small fiber neuropathy, which can be aggravated by stress. Good thing I am not stressed, right? Oh, and diverticulitis and IBS are also affected by stress, so we’re over here playing naked Twister, trying not to soil ourselves. Great visual, right?            

So, how did we get here? Trees and heat. Seriously. See, I am not a fan of the heat and grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, where the use of air conditioners was not something that was common, as the fog would often roll in, working as Mother Nature’s air conditioning. I currently live in the desert. Sure, there are some trees, but nothing like I lived among in the Pacific Northwest, where I was living prior to moving to Texas, then New Mexico. Fortunately, I work from home, so as long as I have an internet connection and WiFi, I’m good. Well, my boyfriend has been putting in for jobs with his company in various states, but all of which had cooler weather and either medicinal or recreational marijuana. Those were our main criteria.

Animals are friends for life. Not disposable. Not ours to eat or breed.

            Fast forward a few months and DING-DING-DING, we are bound for Durango, Colorado. Oh, and his supervisor wants him there in about two weeks. TWO WEEKS. TWO. MOTHERFUCKING. WEEKS. Not a problem. Let’s just work on finding a place, packing up all of our belongings, including our dogs, a turtle, and fish (because we are not the kind of people who put dogs up on Craigslist for “free” because they are moving to a new place that doesn’t allow pets), and move to another state in two weeks. Simple, right? Fuck.

            So, in order to ensure that we are not homeless once we arrive in Durango, we took a trip up there. Leaving a little before 5am and getting back after 10pm, it was a long day. But, we met with a realtor who showed us a place that we had been talking with the current tenant and landlord. Everything was going well until Monday morning, today, when I received an email from the current tenant, who stated that the landlord was not satisfied with our background check (namely my credit report), and as such, we would not be considered further for the house that we wanted to rent. Hopes? Dashed to smithereens. My heart sank.

Guaranteed to make you feel sexy as hell

            Perhaps my mood to hearing that we wouldn’t be able to rent the house we looked at was intensified due to an event that occurred earlier in the day. I have been having terrible post nasal drip for the past few months. It got to the point where I physically collapsed several times, hitting my head on a hard surface a few times due to becoming very lightheaded while trying to clear my throat of stuff that can only be described as having the consistency of cold molasses. I finally conceded to go to our local VA health clinic, where they gave me a shot of an anti inflammatory and prescriptions to the EXACT SAME FUCKING THING I HAD BEEN TAKING. Same dose. They then told me to come back into the clinic within the following week if I am not feeling better.

Not so Breaking News

Well, I am not feeling better, so I went back to the VA clinic this morning, prior to hearing the news about the place. Good thing too, as I would have probably been placed on a 5150 hold and unable to do the things I need to do in regards to the move, school, and work. After filling out the triage form, I took a seat and waited to be called back to be seen. That would not happen today, as a nurse (?) called me up to the window and told me that they can’t see me anymore since I had been referred out via the Choice program and had a civilian primary care provider now. Well, I saw that person once, for about five minutes, and she didn’t listen to me at all during that time. I was also told the previous week to return to the clinic location if I wasn’t feeling better. See the frustration?

Not actual house

So, we’re back to square one, looking for a place to live, while residing in a different state, seven hours away. We have expanded our search radius. I didn’t want to, as it snows there and my boyfriend will have to drive in the snow, which is why I wanted to be relatively close to his work, which is in Durango. We will be filling out more applications. One place looks like a murder house, but it’ll do for now, as the owner will be fixing it up more come the warmer months and then put it up for rent for a much higher price I presume.

You can donate by hitting the word PayPal

I am not one to ask for help lightly. I often pride myself on my ability to do things all by myself. However, I am not sure I will be able to maintain my sanity without a little help. I have been diagnosed with a number of chronic pain conditions, which are intensified by stress. I am trying to keep myself together, as the next month will be very stressful. If possible, if you feel so inclined, I have set up a link via PayPal if you would like to help me to maintain some sanity while we go through this stressful time. My boyfriend’s company isn’t providing any relocation assistance, so it’s just us, our savings, and rescues. After we get settled in the new place, wherever that may be, I will be working on my mental and physical health, finishing up my last course towards my MS degree in Clinical Psychology with a specialization in Applied Research, and hopefully able to breathe once again.

Thank you for reading and feel free to share this post with others 😀 

A Pain in my Arse

An occasional sharp pain leads to a constant feeling of despair, as the anxiety of not knowing if the next step will be painless or send you into a realm of pain that you never knew existed. Trying to put mind over matter lasted only so long, as the facade began to tarnish and crack. There is no denying or hiding the cringes that accompany the unseen pain; each step is a weary endeavor, with a time bomb flashing in your peripheral vision. It would almost be easier if it was a broken bone, as it is a visible injury. However, much like the mental illness battles, the hidden ones often hurt more.

Having had tried to “walk off” two herniated discs about a decade ago, I am not one to quickly admit defeat or even admit that I am human. Being a dedicated follower to the motto “Toughen Up, Buttercup,” I tried to pick myself up and dust myself off. But this time I couldn’t. This pain was different than the disc injury, as there were no tingling limbs, but rather just a sharp pain and achiness. I tried to heal myself through the use of PiYo (a mix of Pilates and yoga) and herbal supplements. Sure, most people would say, “Why don’t you just go to the doctors if you are in that much pain?” Well, it’s because as a freelance writer and graduate student (with the latter now on hold due to my injury, as it is hard to sit down and concentrate for long periods of time) and don’t have health insurance. I would have qualified for Medicare due to my low income status, but the lovely governor Rick Perry decided not to expand the program. However, due to my loving (and persistent) boyfriend, I started the process of obtaining my medical care through the Veterans Administration, as I earned the status of disabled veteran due to my 30% disability rating that I incurred over the course of my 12 years of active duty.

It took about three month to navigate the system, as my application for coverage was sent to the wrong address, then when I called to follow up about two months after I sent it off, I was transferred to the publications office (perhaps this is an example of why so many are disenchanted with the VA). I called back and was able to reach a very helpful woman (Betty) who told me that I could email her a copy of my application and DD-214 and she would help me to get the ball rolling. Two weeks after I sent Betty the paperwork, I called back to check on my status once again, and lo and behold, I was in the system and could finally obtain medical services! Yay! I was told that I should go to the local VA clinic and make an appointment. I grabbed my wallet and keys, then off to the VA I went. Well, it appears that all of the doctors have quit working at that location...which was built this year. Sure, they have some doctors from other locations filling in, but there are no doctors assigned and I was not able to make an appointment at that time, but they would call me when there was an opening. That wasn’t going to cut it though.

The next day the pain was still bad (I had been living in a 6/10 -7/10 of pain on a regular basis, with 25/10 on occasion) and I wasn’t sure that I could hold on until the local clinic had an opening. I called the larger clinic, which was about 70 miles away, to at least try to make an appointment. I called the number and was stuck in voice prompt hell and then when I called back and told the operator that I was trying to make an appointment, she transferred me to someone’s voicemail (just another reason to be disenfranchised with the system). Well, due to my untrustworthy nature of voice mail, I decided to get in the car and drive that 140 miles round trip...to at least make an appointment. I am glad I made that decision though, as they told me to go to the VA Urgent Care (which is in the same building) and I was seen, got a shot in the ass, and even got a few x-rays done.

Upon examination of the x-rated pictures (hey, it’s pictures of my innards), it was discovered that I have some narrowing and compression of some of my discs, a little curvature of my spine to the right (my spine is a Republican? Crap) as well as a few bone spurs in at least one of my vertebrae. So, at least there is something wrong and it’s not all in my head. They gave me a few prescriptions and made a few appointments for me at the local clinic that is closer to where I live, including a lab appointment. It has been a good five years since I have had any blood work done or even seen a doctor other than the one I saw when I was a student at Oregon State University for my Mirena (I highly recommend it, btw).

The doctor I saw at the Urgent Care clinic told me that if the medications don’t work, that I would need an MRI. Well, it looks like that will be in my future, as the pills I got do diddly squat. As it is, I am taking one of each (a pain pill and a muscle relaxer) and a Doan’s pill every couple of hours. He told me that the muscle relaxer should be taken at night, as it would knock me out. Well, that is not the case either. Even taking this concoction, it hurts to: walk, stand, stand up from a seated position, sit, roll over in bed, get out of bed, pull my pants up, and just about anything and everything else. However, the annoying thing is that the pain is not constant or consistent, which contributes to the anxiety and muscle stress due to the constant unknowing, bracing myself for the possibility of pain.

I may have to go back to the clinic that is further away, as the pain is getting worse, as before it went away a bit as my back loosened up a little, but that is not the case anymore. The anxiety is challenging, and so is the depression that accompanies the fact that I know what my body has been capable of in the past: I have completed two Tough Mudders, enjoyed MMA training, kickboxing, Insanity programs, lifting heavy things, and when I moved to Texas, I loaded the truck myself, alone. Feeling like a shell of who I was before is hard, and even more so since I have used workouts as a form of therapy, and now I am not able to do such things. So, until I am able to resume my normal activities, I need to find other outlets, such as writing, reading, and trying to take care of myself so I can come back stronger than ever.