I am surrounded by towers of cardboard boxes, stacked nearly to the ceiling. The packing people have finally finished their arduous task of packing out the world's worst packrat, me. I could see fear in their eyes when they entered the Inner Sanctum of the Domestic Goddess, aka the sewing room. It took them a good four hours just to pack all the stuff in that one room.
Tomorrow, I return to the house I left two and a half years ago. I was asked to return by my ex. He knew I was struggling to get by on my government dole, and would never ask to come back after I had been the one to initiate the divorce. It was true. I have eaten far too many ramen noodles and cans of tuna to be healthy. I've lived on cheap macaroni and cheese and other delicacies from the Dollar Store. There were nights that the meal was homemade bread and a cup of tea. I didn't let on to most people that was how it was.
It's been rough. I've watched as my business has gone steadily downhill, because I have no capital with which to fuel new product. I fall in between the cracks of the system, because I live in a decent place that is not Section 8 housing. Due to that, I could not get food stamps. I refused to live in an unsafe, unsavory neighborhood, just to put more food on the table. The veritable rock and a hard place.
I'm exhausted tonight. The tv is now disconnected from the cable (but not my precious internet!) and my cookstove is obscured by the stacks of boxes in front of it. My phone has been transferred back to the house. The only thing left to do is to pack up what is in my desk, and disconnect the computer. That will happen in the morning, along with corralling three felines who will not be happy about it.
For now, I'm kicking back with the remnants of a bottle of cheap Arbor Mist Melon wine, and am going to adjourn to read some comics. After all, the new Daredevil came out today. ; )
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
Memphis blues
A little late in reporting, but Tuesday was another day spent in Memphis at the VA Hospital. I caught the DAV van at 0630 down at the old shopping mall (now very deserted since the new one was finished). I had three appointments scheduled: the nutritionist at 11, neurology at 2:40, and ophthalmology at 3 pm. If you ride one of the volunteer vans, usually you can get in to see the doctors early. I went into ophthalmology first, and they took me right in.
Lucky me! The department has a new toy, and I was the very first patient to be scanned with it. The technician had to use her cheat notes, and although I have no idea what the machine is called; it does a scan to check if there is swelling around the optic nerve. I suppose all was well back there, assuming she did the test correctly. She would say look at the green dot, and sometimes there WAS NO GREEN DOT. Then she'd adjust things, and a fuzzy green dot on a bright red background would flash and little lights would buzz across the viewing area in angles or circles. Weird.
The ophthalmologist shined a lot of bright lights in my eyes, and said he couldn't see anything really new going on, but my chart tests indicate they should prescribe new glasses. Of course, they had just dilated my eyes, and I will have to go back in two months to get that done. :P
I was out of there before ten, so I wandered over to the nutritionist's office and signed in early for that appointment. I got right in because someone else was a no-show. Evidently, when I can afford to buy food, I eat fairly well. I've lost five more pounds, have no idea why. She seemed satisfied that I knew how to eat properly, did NOT give me a huge lecture on being overweight, and sent me on my merry way.
I decided to eat lunch before I went to the fifth floor neurology because I know that clinic only meets in the afternoon. I shopped a little in the canteen, didn't buy anything. I still made it up to the fifth floor before the receptionist went to lunch. She told me which box to put my paperwork in, and I took a seat in the waiting room. I had asked if I could see the doctor early. She made no promises.
Monday night, I could not sleep. I tossed, turned, and sweat all night long. So by noon, I was dead on my feet. I dozed off and on in the waiting room, too tired to even try to read the Agatha Christie mystery I brought along. The room filled up, and before long, everyone else seemed to have been summoned for vital sign checks but me. I kept pacing to keep awake, without much luck. It was after 3 pm when I finally saw the doctor.
I like Dr. M. He's a fairly new resident physician at the VA, and must be from the Ukraine or thereabouts. He is very straightforward, and I like that. He actually read my charts, which so often doesn't happen with the VA, and he said he was concerned about a couple of the results of the many tests I had last week. He didn't tell me everything, but I did get out of him that my sed rate is high, and another test that has to do with autoimmune system problems, the C-Reactive Protein was also high. According to WebMD, A recent study suggests a link between increased CRP levels and the development of age-related macular degeneration. Well, hello?
So, after all this, the doc gave me a refill on some meds for restless leg syndrome, which was one of the reasons I didn't sleep the night before. In order to get it filled, I had to go to the other end of the campus to the outpatient pharmacy, take a number and wait to see the pharmacist before the prescription was even turned in. I appealed to a volunteer who was at the information desk to help me get in touch with the van driver, who had been looking for me. The volunteer got me in to see a pharmacist without waiting, and he in turn had a few of the pills filled for me right then so the van wouldn't be delayed any longer. By the time we got out of there, it was well after 4pm, which meant it was dark when we got back to Jonesboro. Too long of a day.
Best part? I have to go back NEXT Tuesday for another of those unspeakably awful GI tests.
All this, and I've spent the last two days ripping out the carpeting in the house before I move back in. Oh, and I've sold several braille tshirts in the past few days. Maybe things will look up, just a little.
Lucky me! The department has a new toy, and I was the very first patient to be scanned with it. The technician had to use her cheat notes, and although I have no idea what the machine is called; it does a scan to check if there is swelling around the optic nerve. I suppose all was well back there, assuming she did the test correctly. She would say look at the green dot, and sometimes there WAS NO GREEN DOT. Then she'd adjust things, and a fuzzy green dot on a bright red background would flash and little lights would buzz across the viewing area in angles or circles. Weird.
The ophthalmologist shined a lot of bright lights in my eyes, and said he couldn't see anything really new going on, but my chart tests indicate they should prescribe new glasses. Of course, they had just dilated my eyes, and I will have to go back in two months to get that done. :P
I was out of there before ten, so I wandered over to the nutritionist's office and signed in early for that appointment. I got right in because someone else was a no-show. Evidently, when I can afford to buy food, I eat fairly well. I've lost five more pounds, have no idea why. She seemed satisfied that I knew how to eat properly, did NOT give me a huge lecture on being overweight, and sent me on my merry way.
I decided to eat lunch before I went to the fifth floor neurology because I know that clinic only meets in the afternoon. I shopped a little in the canteen, didn't buy anything. I still made it up to the fifth floor before the receptionist went to lunch. She told me which box to put my paperwork in, and I took a seat in the waiting room. I had asked if I could see the doctor early. She made no promises.
Monday night, I could not sleep. I tossed, turned, and sweat all night long. So by noon, I was dead on my feet. I dozed off and on in the waiting room, too tired to even try to read the Agatha Christie mystery I brought along. The room filled up, and before long, everyone else seemed to have been summoned for vital sign checks but me. I kept pacing to keep awake, without much luck. It was after 3 pm when I finally saw the doctor.
I like Dr. M. He's a fairly new resident physician at the VA, and must be from the Ukraine or thereabouts. He is very straightforward, and I like that. He actually read my charts, which so often doesn't happen with the VA, and he said he was concerned about a couple of the results of the many tests I had last week. He didn't tell me everything, but I did get out of him that my sed rate is high, and another test that has to do with autoimmune system problems, the C-Reactive Protein was also high. According to WebMD, A recent study suggests a link between increased CRP levels and the development of age-related macular degeneration. Well, hello?
So, after all this, the doc gave me a refill on some meds for restless leg syndrome, which was one of the reasons I didn't sleep the night before. In order to get it filled, I had to go to the other end of the campus to the outpatient pharmacy, take a number and wait to see the pharmacist before the prescription was even turned in. I appealed to a volunteer who was at the information desk to help me get in touch with the van driver, who had been looking for me. The volunteer got me in to see a pharmacist without waiting, and he in turn had a few of the pills filled for me right then so the van wouldn't be delayed any longer. By the time we got out of there, it was well after 4pm, which meant it was dark when we got back to Jonesboro. Too long of a day.
Best part? I have to go back NEXT Tuesday for another of those unspeakably awful GI tests.
All this, and I've spent the last two days ripping out the carpeting in the house before I move back in. Oh, and I've sold several braille tshirts in the past few days. Maybe things will look up, just a little.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
The Hurrier I Go, The Behinder I Get
The harder I try to get ahead, the farther behind I slide. I've been trying to sell things on ebay for well over a year now, and with the increases in fees and the way the structure has changed, I'm beginning to think it's not worth my time and effort. A good third of what I brought in last month went right back to ebay in listing fees, store fees, and final value fees. Of course, I know that I listed probably three times as many items as I normally do, but it's really hard to justify the effort if someone else is raking in most of the profit.
My income is not keeping up with my outgo. I am on a rather fixed income, dependent mostly on my veteran's compensation check each month. By the time I pay rent, insurance, utilities, phone, and cable(which is mostly my internet ISP since I only subscribe to the minimum basic tv cable channels), it's the fourth of the month, and there is nothing left for food. I try to eek out a tank of gas a month for the car. Most of the time, I stay home, only going out to the post office when I have to send parcels, and to visit my mother at the nursing home. I don't eat out, except to take my mom lunch on Sundays. It's not like I'm a wasteful spender.
Last month, I broke down to the point of applying for food stamps. Well, guess what? I don't qualify. I have no children, live by myself, and do not live in squalid HUD housing. I own a seven year old car that I paid for entirely on my own. I don't do drugs, drink alcohol or smoke. I don't have a live-in boyfriend or illegitimate children. But I'm not far enough down the ladder to get any assistance. Go figure.
Therefore, I am taking up on an offer that my ex-husband has proposed: move back in with him. We have really continued to be friends even after the divorce, and it's not like I'd have to break in a new roommate. We are known quantities, so things will work out. At least I won't starve this way. ; )
My income is not keeping up with my outgo. I am on a rather fixed income, dependent mostly on my veteran's compensation check each month. By the time I pay rent, insurance, utilities, phone, and cable(which is mostly my internet ISP since I only subscribe to the minimum basic tv cable channels), it's the fourth of the month, and there is nothing left for food. I try to eek out a tank of gas a month for the car. Most of the time, I stay home, only going out to the post office when I have to send parcels, and to visit my mother at the nursing home. I don't eat out, except to take my mom lunch on Sundays. It's not like I'm a wasteful spender.
Last month, I broke down to the point of applying for food stamps. Well, guess what? I don't qualify. I have no children, live by myself, and do not live in squalid HUD housing. I own a seven year old car that I paid for entirely on my own. I don't do drugs, drink alcohol or smoke. I don't have a live-in boyfriend or illegitimate children. But I'm not far enough down the ladder to get any assistance. Go figure.
Therefore, I am taking up on an offer that my ex-husband has proposed: move back in with him. We have really continued to be friends even after the divorce, and it's not like I'd have to break in a new roommate. We are known quantities, so things will work out. At least I won't starve this way. ; )
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