Archive for August, 2010

This Just In…

Posted August 24, 2010 By kmarrs

Apparently I currently follow 64 blogs. So much for cutting back.

Time to update my blog roll I guess.

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Obama Care

Posted August 24, 2010 By kmarrs

Disclaimer: Some of us, though I imagine not most of us, are going to have to agree to disagree. That is fine. This is how I see it, how I feel it, and my corner of the Internet. This is what I know to be fact with probably some opinion mixed in. But I’ll do my best to stick to the facts.

Fact 1: Pat will always have medicare because he is disabled.

Fact 2: Pat’s medicare plan has a 600$ spend down before the government kicks in to pay. Meaning every month (not year but month) we have to pay 600$ out of pocket in medical bills before the government chips in.

Fact 3: Pat does earn a disability check.

Fact 4: Pat’s check is for around 675$ every month.

Fact 5: We use this check to pay rent we otherwise couldn’t afford. And still can’t afford the 600$ a month spend down.

Fact 6: Every 6 months, in January and July we have a welfare appointment to determine what welfare benefits we are eligible for.

Fact 7: Every July I’ve made so little money in the previous 6 months we all 4 qualify for medicaid, which has no spend down.

Fact 8: There is much rejoicing, the 4 of us can afford the care we need as basic human being, plus the extra perks those of us with mental health issues need.

Fact 9: Every January I’ve made too much in December, the busy season in my line of work, and we all 4 lose or medicaid. Only since the littles and I don’t have back-up we don’t lose it immediately and have time to get something else in place. Which is enough time to get us to the July meeting where we get it back. We weren’t always this lucky. Up until this past year it was just yanked and we were screwed if I made too much. Pat on the other hand has medicare as back up and he loses his medicaid for 6 months.

Fact 10: It’ kinda hard to get the ongoing medical care you need when you only have insurance for 6 months of the year. Well, insurance you can afford to use.

Fact 11: Insurance for the 4 of us through my employer cost between 100 and 200$ a month. Maybe that’s every 2 weeks. But I’m pretty sure that’s a month. That’s money we simply don’t have.

Fact 12: A better paying job for me means Pat loses his disability check and we lose all our welfare benefits. I’d have to make triple what I make now for us to end in the green. That might be quadruple what I make now, I’m just trying to be optimistic.

Fact 13: I don’t qualify for those jobs, yet. I need my college education first. Or at least an extensive work history.

Opinion 1: Let’s be honest, with my fragile mental health, I still wouldn’t be able to hold one of those jobs. At least not yet.

Fact 14: With Obama care I’ll be able to make more money before we all 4 lose or medicaid. Meaning Pat won’t spend 6 months of the year without medical coverage.

Fact 15: That aspect of Obama care kicks in, in 2011.

Fact 16: Pat most likely has his medicaid back for good.

So why am I going into all this now?

The toe!

When he dropped that can of corn on his big toe a month ago we were currently living the 6 months of the year he goes without medicaid. So he couldn’t afford to be seen. He couldn’t afford to have it treated. The problem couldn’t be fixed before it reached the point of becoming a serious problem.

We find out Wednesday if he loses his toe.

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Who Knew it Was About Cheating

Posted August 24, 2010 By kmarrs

I was going to start this out with the “Do you Like Pina Coladas song”, but then I read the lyrics and um, no. What I get for only actually knowing that one line.

So the thing of it is, it’s really hot in here because we are going for fresh air instead of the AC and it’s cool enough to do this without dying but not cool enough to do this without sweating. So I wanted something cold to drink. I’m getting sick of water (only kinda) and my water is kept at room temp anyways so that was out. I don’t have any pop. I do have a thing of juice in the fridge but only 1 and that has to last me until Friday since that’s what I use to take my pills. BUT in the back of the fridge is my TGI Friday’s pina colada mix. And well it gets blended with ice. Which would certainly cool me off…

So my drink if frozen, I put it in a glass, I tip my head back to take a sip, the whole block of drink landed in my face and I wore half of it. So I change my shirt and try again. Only this time I take it slower and don’t tip my head back as far. None the less, same results of a face full of frozen drink. Then I remember there is this such thing called a straw. Pat even has some not 2 feet from where I sit. Needless to say, I’m finally peacefully sipping my drink.

Oh and by the way, taco after midnight Doritoes do not mix well with pina colada. I mean It should really be obvious, but then so should the straw have been.

I just went to scratch under my upper nose and realized how sticky my upper lip is now.

All this and I’ve only had a dozen sips.

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This ‘N’ That

Posted August 21, 2010 By kmarrs

I’m finding myself chronically tired these days. I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not the kind of tired a good nap will fix. It’s a to the bone tired. As a result I find myself not caring. Not caring in things I normally thrive on. Maybe I’m really actually depressed. Who knows. Either way, I’m not reading blogs much. I check them about twice a week. Whereas usually I’m checking them daily. I’m also not reading my twitter stream. Not even my “do not miss” list. (No, I don’t really have it titled that. That would be mean to the people not in it.) But the point is, I’m not reading things I normally refuse to miss. I’m just too tired anymore. I’m hoping leaving the camera store will fix that.

And it isn’t like I’m doing anything of importance instead. I usually just putter around the Internet bored out of my mind. Which means I technically have the time to read these things. I’m just too blah to have the energy.

I think it’s not so much the 45 hours a week, and more the 33-36 hours crammed into 3 days over the weekend. I spend the other 4 days in the week recovering from that.

So yeah, I guess I’m depressed.

I’m not suicidal or anything like that. This isn’t a clinical depression that comes from having BPD. For once I think this is a natural depression that comes from working two jobs, long hours, not enough time with my kids, etc.

I feel bad about leaving the camera store. I have regular customers that are going to miss me. My most regular customer, the one who makes a point on coming in the days I work, already knows I’m leaving. I told him before just about anyone else. He is a really nice older gentleman. Good hard working guy. He gave my boys fishing poles about a month or two ago. He’s that kind of guy. He has promised to come in on my last day and cry with me. I’m going to miss all my regulars, but I have a special kind of soft spot for him. We exchanged phone numbers so if he needs a camera buddy, he knows where to find me. That’s something at least.

So Pat is pretty messed up. He dropped a can of corn on his toe about a month ago and crushed it. As a result the toe nail on his left big toe is embedded. It’s been pretty nasty for a month now, while he’s had no insurance. He finally got his insurance reinstated yesterday and was at the hospital by midnight, the second he got it back. Turns out the antibiotic a snuck him (shhh) from my infected toe saved his life. (My toe is fine now.) He has tetanus and his toe isn’t just infected, it’s upgraded to poison. They gave him a tetanus shot, an antibiotic and vicodin. This week he goes to a specialist where they will either remove the nail and scrub it out, or they’ll remove the toe. No joke, it’s that bad that he might lose the entire toe.

My family’s 16 year old dog from my childhood was put the sleep on Wednesday. She was going down hill for awhile but she reached the point of no return Tuesday. Mom had been praying for awhile that she would know when the time had come so she could make a fast and final decision. And well the time came and it was taken care of fast. We don’t know how much Jackie suffered in the end but we are all hoping that it was minimal. We are hoping that the decision was made in time.

Don’t bother with the I’m sorry. I’m ok with it. Jackie lived a long, full, happy life. Death is as natural as birth. It wasn’t sudden and unexpected. What’s done is done.

Gah, this is all depressing. I need some good news on here. Let me think.

I guess I’ve already shared most of the good news of the week. There was TK’s therapy, April, and well that’s mostly it.

Well there is this… We’ve been wanting to buy Thomas a good solid pair of name brand shoes for school. He wears a uniform so the only thing we could really splurge on was shoes. Pat grew up wearing cheap shoes and was teased for them. We don’t want that for Thomas. Anyway, we had a 10$ gift card for Kohl’s and decided we’d look there. We found a 50$ pair of sketchers marked down to 30$ which cost us 20$ after the gift card. Score! Baby boy is ready for school! We bought him all his school supplies on Thursday. My discount at the grocery store helped with that.

Now I need to get myself a good solid pair of sneakers for work. It can wait until I have the funds but the few pairs I have are cheap and not very supportive. The shoes I’ve been wearing are coming apart at the soles. It’s time to toss them and move on to the next pair. I also could use 3 more pairs of work pants. Saved me from washing my work clothes 3 times a week. It gets old rather fast. Oh well, we’ll come up with the money eventually.

Hmm, back to a depressing note. Oh well, I guess that’s just how I’m going to have to end things. I can’t think of any more positive notes to end things on.

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Make It Stop

Posted August 21, 2010 By kmarrs

I just need to keep telling myself that this is my last major work weekend. I worked 10a-10p today, 11a-10p tomorrow and 12p-1a Sunday. Next weekend I work 10a-11p Friday, 5:30p-10p Saturday and 3p-9:30p Sunday. So three more epic long days. Three. I can do this. I have to do this. I will do this.

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Ok so a little background here. My husband is autistic, only he’s not. See the thing is, they think they have found a new form of autism in my husband. He is too social and trusting to be autistic (because he has a wife and two best friends), but in every other way he meets the criteria. Add in a dash of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and a few other “issues”, not all of which have been diagnosed, and you have psychological mess.

So we’ve tried therapy.

The problem with your average therapist is that they are a councilor and not a psychologist. The education is different. So while they are great to talk to, they aren’t really equipped to diagnose someone like my husband. Trust me, he’s been to a quite a few. His favorite spent more time talking than actually listening. And by favorite I mean not so much favorite, more despised.

Our local facility that takes our insurance has you start with the therapist before you can get to a psychiatrist. So there is little to no chance of a diagnosis if you can’t sit through the therapy.

So in an effort to save our marriage, one night, I asked him what it would take to get him professional help. His answer: A PhD that wanted to get published. Great. Did I mention we are on the state’s insurance? Yep. No easy task. Now I couldn’t guarantee the wanting to get published part, but I found him the psychologist that took our insurance. I even made him the appointment. Then we both discovered the one big catch. My husband had seen this gentleman prior. He was in fact the gentleman my husband was sent to in the process of getting disability. My husband spent the next 3 months ranting about how much he hated this gentleman. Needless to say, that appointment got canceled promptly. The best part? I was planning to ask him for a referral to someone else if he didn’t take our insurance. I can’t ask him for that referral now.

So we are back to square one. So the question is, where do we go from here? No, really…

Now let’s take a step back. Let’s look at you finding one.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say you are probably not like my husband and are textbook something. I don’t care how complex that something is (trust me I know BPD is complex) but you are textbook something. Ok I admit, you have your quirks, I have mine. No mental illness is strictly by the book. But chances are you aren’t something brand new they haven’t seen before.

What am I getting at now that my foot is in my mouth? Well basically, this: You don’t have to be as picky as my husband. Oh trust me, I know you are still going to be picky. I mean your relationship with your therapist is going to be one of the most meaningful relationships in your life. But still, you aren’t limited to a PhD who wants to be published. Add in a personality match and my husband is screwed in try to find one. Admit it, I’m right. You have more options.

But how do you find the right one?

The answer is simple. You pick up the book of providers for your insurance, you find one close to you, you set up an appointment and you go. Talk to them for at least an hour. Maybe several hours spread between a few sessions. You’ll know when you are ready to decide. Decide what? Well if they are the one. It’s like true love. You don’t settle on your spouse, you don’t settle on your therapist either.

I remember the one for me. Her name was Amy. She had a therapy dog name Ollie. Now, Ollie wasn’t the whole package, but he sealed the deal. Amy got me. Right off the bat she got me. I was a teenager at the time. A confused, depressed, lonely, angry teenager. So truly getting me was no easy task. But she did. And she spoke to me in a way that made me really listen. She knew what to say, she knew how to say it. She was magic. Our therapist, client relationship was magic. It was like true love at first sight.

I don’t know what happened to Amy. Something medical that lead to her having to quit her job. I never fully recovered from that blow. To be honest I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had cancer and passed away. I know it was something serious like that. But whatever it was, she is no longer in practice and I miss her deeply.

And now? Well next there was Joe. Joe was me desperate needing something. I didn’t like Joe but he was the best I could do at the time. Amy at least thought I was bipolar. Joe thought I was just depressed. Next came Julie. Julie was almost as magic as Amy. She was the one who figured I has BPD. Life changer, that Julie. With Julie I reached a point in my life when I no longer needed therapy so I took a break. When I came back to it Julie had been promoted and was no longer seeing patience. I understood this and started seeing Cindy. Cindy had been the DBT leader so I knew her, liked her and knew she understood BPD. I’m at a point in my life where I need the BPD knowledge more than I need the magic connection. I’m not saying Cindy isn’t magic. I like her very much and it’s a great fit. I’m just saying she’s no Amy. Maybe if she had an Ollie dog. Maybe.

I think it’s time for my point. Pick a random therapist. Try them on like a pair of jeans. If they don’t fit, move on to the next pair. Keep trying on therapists until you find the one that fits you the best. This could take awhile. Believe me, I understand. It took me years and many misdiagnosis to get to the team of help I have now. But don’t get discouraged, keep trying. The right therapist is out there. And believe me, they are worth waiting and digging for.

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