Small comforts
Nov. 11th, 2003 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kyburgI'm sipping some Bailey's tonight. Just a little sake cup full - if I read between the lines properly, a dear friend is losing one of her cats tonight in Chicago. He deserves some Suntory - but it would be too harsh. Bailey's is more appropriate - warm, soothing and sweet. Poor dears. It's a cancer death, and she didn't flinch, waffle or lose it completely - but saw it through to the end. She gave him everything he could have - that was how she played it. Good job, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pywacket.
Tomorrow is an important date as well - Jim's older brother was supposed to have his jury trial then on the charges of domestic violence. He asked for one - and I suppose (and I have to guess at everything, there has been no discussion except through Jim's Mom) that he is putting his ability to "sell" his story on the line. Whatever happens, let the truth be known - that's all I can ask for. Mom has gone up to Chicago to help with the kids - I hope to talk to them Thursday night.
And while today wasn't as bad as yesterday, I was still frantically busy patching holes where there shouldn't be any. Two of our strongest players were out on child care detail (holiday, schools closed - so the Dads stayed home. Neat, huh?) - so it was quieter, but only by comparison. I expect to remain frantic through the holidays.
The broken software remains broken. The unrepentant bastards.
The DSL line at home still bounces like a bad check. *sigh* Everything that can be done, is being done. Nothing more to do.
I've asked for a potluck at work - we're all too busy to go out to eat this year for my birthday. And after a layoff like we just had, inappropriate.
People may wonder why some people stay on my friends list. You know I don't unfriend - I do bitch a lot, though. A number of people on my friends list have brain injury or an affective brain disorder. Bothdragonrankmage and hobbitblue deal with seizures. being_homeless can directly trace her current homeless condition to her TBI - knows how her life has changed, every step of the way - and how much she falls short from "normal." She's such a bright penny - she needs a supportive home to cover what the injury has taken from her - balancing that with the desperate need we all have to remain independent is the constant dilemma. It's constant with all of my friends dealing with brain dysfunctions. It's like having a broken back - only few people know how to deal with someone on broken brain syndrome.
Few people recognize it.
If there was a question whethershadesong really has had a epilepsy diagnosis, her behavior the past few months clinches it. I'm trying to remember how long I've been reading her journal - the fact I'm coming up on two years writing this one is something of a shock. The anger, the displacement of that anger on people trying to offer sympathy and support - the depression, the despair...very familiar.
Cliff had a cluster of strokes that signalled the true beginning of the end of his life - it ended his life as a productive, employed adult. Because he developed seizures - and at first, they weren't noticeable. His employer chalked up his poor attitude, paranoia and lack of job performance to his diabetes, the existing injuries and recovery from multiple surgeries - and they thought he was being "difficult." They were going to fire him, actually.
I'm not going to cut-tag this. Read ahead if you dare.
We thought he was stressed. He couldn't find his way home from work. He drove the car one night until he ran out of gas, unable to find his way home. He was able to find his way to a market to call me to come get him - twice. The first time, the gas station was only a block away from where the car sat. The second time, he was hysterical and didn't know where he was. He called my sister because he couldn't remember his own phone number and hers was the only one he knew. When we brought him back home, he didn't know what day it was. Mom was there - and Cliff had a psychological therapy appointment the next day. We thought it was stress. Mom took him to his appointment, but they didn't make it there. Cliff had a grand mal seizure in the parking lot - and all became clear.
It didn't get better from there - but that's enough. Throughout the rest of the process - the heart attacks, the amputations, the dialysis - we had to deal with a broken brain. He didn't get stupid or retarded. But there were some things he simply could not do anymore - and on some days, the rules changed. He honestly grew to hate me. He could have perceived me as his personal jailer, and it wouldn't have been far off the mark - but I wasn't the one holding him back, y'see. I just didn't give him the keys to car, the credit or ATM cards or all of the pills in the bottles. *shakes head* Ah, such a bitch I am.
I give people with brain injury/disease a lot of wiggle room when it comes to being dramatic. Cliff was certain he'd gotten into a fight with the neighbors - physical, assaultive, thrown to the ground, grass up his nose - fight. A hallucination. When I go down some streets in Anaheim today, I get shivers - because he told me when he had been driving those roads, he'd hallucinated the palm trees running the other way. Running in front of the car. Things like that. My husband may have hidden some things from me, but he couldn't lie to save his life - and he was so hurt that his own brain had betrayed him, it's hard to describe. He didn't lie to me about this.
He lost everything. His medications were Dilantin and Klonopin. Dilantin is like swallowing a battery - it's that alkaline. And I'll stop there. It's also one of those that has to be monitored by blood draw - and too much is as bad as too little. I'm very good at dealing with someone having a seizure - I've had lots of practice.
Cliff stopped breathing during them.
I would expect some really socially unacceptable behavior from her. And I expect to take some flack right now for saying so. I can't be untrue to myself about this. She has a great support team where she is - she's doing her homework about what to do next - she's writing it all down and putting the lie to it just like I would want anyone facing confusing times like these. I can't ask any more.
And no, she's nowhere close to Cliff in severity. Neither in cause or prognosis. However - the affects are very real, and how she feels about this whole matter is very real.
I won't say I know how it feels. But I do recognize the feelings. To those who get battered, forgive. Don't take it personally. To Shadesong, no coddling. You don't want it and I think you'd find it confusing coming from me, anyway. You want the benefit of my experience, it is here for your perusal - just ask. I can talk about anything. Just - it can ruin your day, okay? My perspective of what "bad" is can be completely skewed. Cliff spent a lot of time in hospitals, but he was never committed to a nursing home. He was never "warehoused." I made sure he was never left alone for long periods of time - that wasn't safe - but he had as much independence as could be granted him. I loved him.
Fuck with me, though and you're history. Dig?
It's been a long day. I think another cup of Bailey's is in order. Art Carney is gone. A lot of people are gone. I wanted to hang some banners on Veteran Memorials today that read "Pro-Life My Ass."
I'm going to go kick some more ass tomorrow.
pywacket.Tomorrow is an important date as well - Jim's older brother was supposed to have his jury trial then on the charges of domestic violence. He asked for one - and I suppose (and I have to guess at everything, there has been no discussion except through Jim's Mom) that he is putting his ability to "sell" his story on the line. Whatever happens, let the truth be known - that's all I can ask for. Mom has gone up to Chicago to help with the kids - I hope to talk to them Thursday night.
And while today wasn't as bad as yesterday, I was still frantically busy patching holes where there shouldn't be any. Two of our strongest players were out on child care detail (holiday, schools closed - so the Dads stayed home. Neat, huh?) - so it was quieter, but only by comparison. I expect to remain frantic through the holidays.
The broken software remains broken. The unrepentant bastards.
The DSL line at home still bounces like a bad check. *sigh* Everything that can be done, is being done. Nothing more to do.
I've asked for a potluck at work - we're all too busy to go out to eat this year for my birthday. And after a layoff like we just had, inappropriate.
People may wonder why some people stay on my friends list. You know I don't unfriend - I do bitch a lot, though. A number of people on my friends list have brain injury or an affective brain disorder. Both
dragonrankmage and hobbitblue deal with seizures. being_homeless can directly trace her current homeless condition to her TBI - knows how her life has changed, every step of the way - and how much she falls short from "normal." She's such a bright penny - she needs a supportive home to cover what the injury has taken from her - balancing that with the desperate need we all have to remain independent is the constant dilemma. It's constant with all of my friends dealing with brain dysfunctions. It's like having a broken back - only few people know how to deal with someone on broken brain syndrome.Few people recognize it.
If there was a question whether
shadesong really has had a epilepsy diagnosis, her behavior the past few months clinches it. I'm trying to remember how long I've been reading her journal - the fact I'm coming up on two years writing this one is something of a shock. The anger, the displacement of that anger on people trying to offer sympathy and support - the depression, the despair...very familiar.Cliff had a cluster of strokes that signalled the true beginning of the end of his life - it ended his life as a productive, employed adult. Because he developed seizures - and at first, they weren't noticeable. His employer chalked up his poor attitude, paranoia and lack of job performance to his diabetes, the existing injuries and recovery from multiple surgeries - and they thought he was being "difficult." They were going to fire him, actually.
I'm not going to cut-tag this. Read ahead if you dare.
We thought he was stressed. He couldn't find his way home from work. He drove the car one night until he ran out of gas, unable to find his way home. He was able to find his way to a market to call me to come get him - twice. The first time, the gas station was only a block away from where the car sat. The second time, he was hysterical and didn't know where he was. He called my sister because he couldn't remember his own phone number and hers was the only one he knew. When we brought him back home, he didn't know what day it was. Mom was there - and Cliff had a psychological therapy appointment the next day. We thought it was stress. Mom took him to his appointment, but they didn't make it there. Cliff had a grand mal seizure in the parking lot - and all became clear.
It didn't get better from there - but that's enough. Throughout the rest of the process - the heart attacks, the amputations, the dialysis - we had to deal with a broken brain. He didn't get stupid or retarded. But there were some things he simply could not do anymore - and on some days, the rules changed. He honestly grew to hate me. He could have perceived me as his personal jailer, and it wouldn't have been far off the mark - but I wasn't the one holding him back, y'see. I just didn't give him the keys to car, the credit or ATM cards or all of the pills in the bottles. *shakes head* Ah, such a bitch I am.
I give people with brain injury/disease a lot of wiggle room when it comes to being dramatic. Cliff was certain he'd gotten into a fight with the neighbors - physical, assaultive, thrown to the ground, grass up his nose - fight. A hallucination. When I go down some streets in Anaheim today, I get shivers - because he told me when he had been driving those roads, he'd hallucinated the palm trees running the other way. Running in front of the car. Things like that. My husband may have hidden some things from me, but he couldn't lie to save his life - and he was so hurt that his own brain had betrayed him, it's hard to describe. He didn't lie to me about this.
He lost everything. His medications were Dilantin and Klonopin. Dilantin is like swallowing a battery - it's that alkaline. And I'll stop there. It's also one of those that has to be monitored by blood draw - and too much is as bad as too little. I'm very good at dealing with someone having a seizure - I've had lots of practice.
Cliff stopped breathing during them.
I would expect some really socially unacceptable behavior from her. And I expect to take some flack right now for saying so. I can't be untrue to myself about this. She has a great support team where she is - she's doing her homework about what to do next - she's writing it all down and putting the lie to it just like I would want anyone facing confusing times like these. I can't ask any more.
And no, she's nowhere close to Cliff in severity. Neither in cause or prognosis. However - the affects are very real, and how she feels about this whole matter is very real.
I won't say I know how it feels. But I do recognize the feelings. To those who get battered, forgive. Don't take it personally. To Shadesong, no coddling. You don't want it and I think you'd find it confusing coming from me, anyway. You want the benefit of my experience, it is here for your perusal - just ask. I can talk about anything. Just - it can ruin your day, okay? My perspective of what "bad" is can be completely skewed. Cliff spent a lot of time in hospitals, but he was never committed to a nursing home. He was never "warehoused." I made sure he was never left alone for long periods of time - that wasn't safe - but he had as much independence as could be granted him. I loved him.
Fuck with me, though and you're history. Dig?
It's been a long day. I think another cup of Bailey's is in order. Art Carney is gone. A lot of people are gone. I wanted to hang some banners on Veteran Memorials today that read "Pro-Life My Ass."
I'm going to go kick some more ass tomorrow.
