Where Is She?

Posted: May 20, 2016 in Family, Jokes, Politics
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  • I brought up this question on Facebook and so feel obligated to bring it up here. I’ve been very interested in politics ever since I was 18 years old. Okay .. perhaps even before then. I recall California had a racist governor who hated Mexicans
  • Anyway, it was then that I knew I was a DHD (Die Hard Democrat). I’m so far to the left I make Michael Moore look like Carl Rove! Go ahead and laugh conservative dude. I do it all the time.
  • So with over 25 years of intense watching of CNN, MSNBC and a plethora of other political coverage sources certain things where staples. You could always count on rallies, debates and interviews of the candidates and their wives.
  •    So why haven’t we seen Melania Trump? I’m sure she’s done a few interviews but she’s not front and center. She’s going to be our potential First Lady hailing from not America with a college degree from … I don’t know!
  •    Is she not allowed to sit at the grown-up table? Is she not as bright, charming and approachable as Michelle Obama?  Send her in coach Trump! She can answer the hard questions! Right?
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It Happened To Me

Posted: May 19, 2016 in Bipolar, Health, Society
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After two weeks in a coma, I was transferred from the hospital to a nursing home filled mostly with seniors.

My roommate was dying and in pain. My heart went out to her. Thankfully she blessed with a loving and dutiful daughter. Her daughter was very kind to me as well.

Almost all the staff was kind and caring. Until towards the end of my stay. I was vomiting bile for two weeks. I ate nothing. It was nearly impossible to keep medication down. I feasted on water and ice chips.

My roommate’s daughter was tired of her mother’s suffering and arranged the escape to a hospital. Once she was gone, my condition got worse and I had a forgetful nurse.

I had to use the toilet. My nurse had to help me. She wiped me as if I was cardboard. Then put me back into bed. The worse comes 10 minutes later.

I had to go again. After ringing for her she yelled at me! She said she was on her break. Then shouted at me, what’s wrong with you? I said I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. She said, me neither.

After putting me in bed (roughly) I cried quietly. I assessed the situation. I can’t walk, eat, wipe myself and a nurse just told me off. I called my husband and begged to be taken out of this place.

It took an eternity (from my point of view) to be sprung. I went to a great hospital. I was treated with dignity, compassion and professionalism for three days.

Then I went home. A careless psychiatrist started this rollercoaster by not monitoring my lithium levels. I always did as I was told. I’m 46 years old and I was defenseless.
Thank God I can move now.

Tomorrow

Posted: May 19, 2016 in Uncategorized

I’m very tired. I can’t go to sleep in 12 hours I outpatient physical therapy. Maybe I should just turn my Kindle off and count 🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑
Good night fellow bloggers.

Lithium toxicity is what caused by seizure and subsequent coma. Even when I came out of it I was very confused. It took me a while to get my bearings.

My husband, mother, sister seemed very nice but foreign to me. It got better and then it got worse! How can Trump be in the lead?! How can he be in the race?

Hell, I’m more qualified to be president and I’m a brain damaged patient who never went to college! After getting home, I was glued to the TV. CNN, MSNBC and Family Feud were my viewing staples.

Today I dream about Coma-ville and it’s lovely. No pain. No hunger. No Trump. Ahhh … Good thing my husband keeps the lithium away from me. I wonder if a Democrat doctor would do me a favor.

Major Update

Posted: May 18, 2016 in Uncategorized
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My story is this – I had a lithium induced seizure on Christmas 2015. It was followed by two weeks in a coma. For what seemed like an eternity, I couldn’t walk or eat (extreme nausea). Still, that wasn’t the worse. I suffer from memory loss, my reading level was 2nd grade and writing was not an option. After coming home in February, I fell several times. This caused a pinched nerve that makes any type of walking painful and tiring. Today I walk (with a cane or walker. I can read anything and write my poetry. I still require a plethora of medication and physical therapy. The good news is I’m alive and loved by a great husband and army of family and friends.

For quite some time now, I’ve been hearing about alleged Christians and their intolerance to the LGBT community. Almost always the Bible is quoted as a means to justify there stance.

I propose that their prejudices stem from something more basic. When I look back at my childhood there was something all kids(or at least most) had in common.

You heard something coming from the bedroom. You opened the door. And absolute horror filled your eyes and brain. They were having sex! Gross! Yuck!

Oral, vaginal, handcuffs, from behind, missionary and of course you saw them naked. When they came out of the bedroom smelling like sex you were silent and eying the floor.

You didn’t want to talk about it. You never opened that door again. If your parents even hinted that they had sex a small or large amount of abhorrence rushed to your heart.

But with age you get over it. Maturity, compassion and love makes you want your parents to be happy in all aspects of their lives. So displays of affection turn into a good thing.

I propose that right-wingers can’t stand the thought of gay sex acts (much like normal kids did of heterosexual sex). If you don’t like it don’t think about it!

They point at the Bible and say, God hates them too. I’m not prejudice. I just want it abolished from society for God’s sake. I’m doing His work!

Hey, bigot! You need to grow up. You are a homophobic, mean-spirited, immature and socially oppressive person. By the way, don’t have sex in the house. Your kids think it’s nasty.

Get Up

Posted: March 2, 2015 in Bipolar, Family, Life
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My life before meeting my husband was peppered with hate. That kind of hatred could only be managed with drinking, sex, inner screams and hidden wounds. Who’s to blame?  At the top of the list was my mother’s boyfriend.

Granted, he didn’t make me bipolar. He made my symptoms far more pronounced by screwing with my head. He was a psychologist who liked breaking into bathrooms.

My mother’s relationship with him ended over 30 years ago. He’s been dead and gone for a while now. But something remains. He wasn’t just a pervert. He was father to five human beings.

Today I’m Facebook friends with three of them. His son looks just like him and carries his name. It isn’t hard to look or talk to him because my quasi-stepbrother is not his father. All of his children belong to themselves and that makes it easy for me to see them and not their father.

I have no hate in me. I choose to find pride in my great and minor victories. I have no cuts on my thighs. I have no booze or cigarettes in my life. My husband and I share guilt-free marital pleasures. Lastly, I can look at my pain without succumbing to it.

Like my quasi-siblings, I belong to myself. I refuse to relinquish myself to anyone. I trust that I will choose what is right for me. And if I fall, I’ll just quickly get up.