Here’s what happened in my life over the past week:
- WordPress broke my dashboard colour scheme. I’m not impressed.
- I guess there are corn supply chain issues, because Corn Flakes sure are hard to find. This is a problem in my world.
- I knew there was a robin close by because I’ve heard it chirping, but I discovered a couple of days ago that it’s nesting in a bush near my bedroom window. It was frantically chirping, and I saw a crow was in there trying to get the eggs. Mean crow! (says the hypocritical carnivore…)
- I’m reading a book called Quack Quack, and it’s absolutely hilarious. It won’t be released until September, so it’ll be a while before I post my review, but it’s all about debunking wild and wacky pseudoscientific health products and the people who hawk them. One particular wackadoo claims that drinking fermented cabbage juice will allow people to regenerate missing limbs. And did you know there was a World Conference on Urine Therapy?
- I happened to be Googling the difference between concrete and cement, and I discovered that what I have always heard referred to as a cement truck does not, in fact, carry cement; it carries concrete. This blew my mind. How has everybody (and clearly I’m making assumptions about the broader English-speaking population) been calling it the wrong thing? Who started it, and how did it propagate?
- I had my second NAMI Brown County Zoom support group meeting with my friend Danei. It started off well, and then I ran out of spoons, so I bailed early. At that point, I didn’t have enough mental energy to interrupt and say why I was leaving, so I just disappeared and emailed Danei. I would prefer not to do that kind of thing, but when there are no spoons left, my rule for myself is to do whatever I need to do to manage and not feel guilty about it afterwards.
Yesterday I had my first appointment at the mental health team. Thanks for all your support in response to yesterday’s post; had it not been for that boost of energy, I might have just walked out partway through the appointment, because it was frustrating. They had a hard time hearing me because my speech is quiet, I had to wear a mask, and the office we were in had lots of traffic noise from outside. That made for a lot of awkward pauses when I had responded to their questions but they hadn’t heard me at all and were waiting for a response (I couldn’t tell if they were staring at me waiting for something more, if they just hadn’t heard me, or if they were confused).
The psychiatrist was patronizing, which I was very unimpressed with. She had asked about my educational and work background (I was a pharmacist and then a mental health nurse for 15 years), so she should have been able to recognize that I know my shit, but nope, still talked down to me. She had no interest in addressing any of the med-related issues I brought up on the first visit. She seemed awfully concerned about the fact that I’ve overdosed on pills before, and my little reassurance speech I’d prepared to explain why that isn’t an issue didn’t seem to do anything to reassure her. I told her that I have a larger quantity than a week on hand of most of my meds anyway because I’m using up what I had from before I went in to hospital. She wanted me to turn that in to the pharmacy to be disposed of. Oh fuck all the way off, bitch.
The case manager was a dimwit. He asked if I was speaking quietly (something that’s a direct result of my illness) so that they wouldn’t interpret my speech as shouting, and he came up with this because I had told them that the notes from the hospital psych ER were inaccurate, and they had described my soft, slow speech as shouting. At first I was baffled and couldn’t figure out what the hell he was talking about, but then I realized he just didn’t have a fucking clue, and I had to explain to him what psychomotor retardation is. Seriously dude, if you don’t know what your client’s most prominent presenting symptom is, look that shit up beforehand rather than ask ignorant questions. And some other dude had left voice messages twice earlier this week and said he was going to be my case manager, but now it’s this dude, so I don’t know what happened there.
When the appointment was over, the case manager said he’d go book the next appointment and then come back and tell me when it was. I waited, and waited, and waited, and then finally decided fuck it and just left. I was halfway down the block when he came out chasing me to give me an appointment slip. Really now? So, now I have to figure out what to do about this. I haven’t decided that yet, but it will most likely not involve going back to see them again.
Guinea pig girls are able to play nice and share food, but I usually give my girls each their own piece of celery, so they’ve never learned to share. On this particular occasion, I gave them multiple small pieces of celery along with the base of the celery bunch. The base was left after they had eaten the other pieces, but they weren’t interested in sharing. One of them would grab it and run off to a corner, then another would come grab it and run off with it, with plenty of squeaking along the way. Here’s Brownie with her cute little foot on top of the celery to lay claim to it. The only reason Casper (with the white hair) isn’t grabbing it away from her is because I’m right there with the camera, and they tend to stay still when I’m that close.
This is one of my colouring pages for this week. I was playing around with light and heavy pressure.
How has your week been?
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