Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Surely I'm Not An Idiot, But Only Act Like One At Times --I Stopped Taking My Cymbalta Because I Was Getting Low On It
A few weeks ago, I noticed that I was getting low on my Cymbalta medication -used for the nerve damage in my lower legs/feet and hands. I thought I was to receive this med through the mailing pharmacy set-up by BCAR, but apparently not. I don't understand why not, since the other drug I take for my neuropathy is prescribed by the specialist. The specialist will only prescribe medication that pertains to my AIDS/HIV diagnosis; however, since the peripheral neuropathy in my extremities was caused by the virus, they would prescribe the meds for it as well. Then where is my Cymbalta? Btw, Cymbalta is also used for major depressive disorders as well as for general anxiety. My stupid ass has waited for a month on the Cymbalta to arrive , but now I'm pretty sure that it's still at the pharmacy. Side note -I've gone through five or six doctor/healthcare provider during the last 3 1/2 years. I'm dizzy! My stupid ass put off getting a Primary Care Physician because everything was taken care of by all the previous doctors. Btw, I have a PCP now, but my first appointment is April 16th. Now, back to the Cymbalta. A month ago, I stopped taking it regularly without even thinking of the medical consequences -side effects! A few weeks after stopping I started taking it every other day to make it last until I got the med in the mail (it's not coming), but now must wait till I see my PCP to get a refill. BUT, my doctor at BCAR should have given me refills. Idk -but I'm going to BCAR tomorrow to explain my stupid ass & see if I can get half a months worth prescribed to me. I would just not worry till the 16th, but last week it was noticed by my mom and a few friends that I was acting very depressed -VERY DEPRESSED- so low as well as having MANIC episode after episode. I don't recall much of it, but I believe my mom and know that she, my friends, and sister were just looking out for me. Cymbalta only has a half life of 12 hours, which means if you skip a day your body basically goes into shock from lack of the drug. I was skipping a week here & there, then every other day, which is SO NOT GOOD! A doctor must wean one off such a drug, with lower a lower dosage and then possibly another drug that is easier to quit without side effects. So, I was manic, depressed, crying, hating everything -basically I was fucked-up & I did it to myself unintentionally. Last Friday, I began to take what's left of my the Cymbalta & hopefully I can get BCAR to prescribe me enough to get me through till I see my PCP, OR go ahead and prescribe to me like they were supposed to do anyway, since I use the Cymbalta to treat the nerve damage in my body caused by the HIV virus. UGH! I can't believe I let myself decide that I could handle not taking one of my meds (just because I was getting low & waiting for it to arrive in the mail) -I didn't even think about the side effects of coming off a high dosage of Cymbalta. I'm not an idiot, but apparently enjoy acting like one.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Disclosure....rejection....disclosure....rejection....disclosure...blah!!!
My HIV positive disclosure and immediate rejection in the form of a sad, pathetic let down that's suppose to make me feel better??? I don't know. I'm in west Texas, so I've already got the deck stacked against me times two. Okay, so with each disclosure/rejection (because that's what they've all been so far) it gets easier,
but not really. Easier, in that I don't fill with anger or sadness
& I probably won't cry in private about it -so, that's positive,
sort of. Ugh! I wish I could say that it hasn't hurt, and that it's
getting easier with each
disclosure & rejection -I guess it is in a way, but fuck....it's
frustrating my dear & I'm getting older. At least I'm trying -I'm
not giving-up (although it really appears that way at times, most of the
time, because I notice that I stay home most of my hours, days, weeks
in a month, shutting myself off from everyone, becoming too
comfortable with my solitude, but not really, socializing so much less
than I ever had in my life). I'm not sad, but it's sad. I know it will
change. I hope it changes soon. I need a change! xoxo
So, the above was a response to a dear friend after she had responded to a Facebook status about having had rejection once again after disclosing my HIV positive status because, frankly, I rather get it out of the way -said & done! Communicate often and with full honesty makes life easier in the long run. I could have waited to disclose -Yes, waited until the minutes before sex (get em all worked-up and then drop the HIV bomb) because it's pretty much law in one way or another in most states that an HIV positive person must disclose to their sexual partner -which is fucked-up in my opinion because I could give you Hep-C and/or Herpes and not have had to mention it prior to sex and not be criminalized. However, I have that naughty gay disease of the 1980's and I have the potential to give anyone an excruciating, quick, and painful way to die (not sarcasm). That's not the case anymore -for example, Me: I was at death's door with Pneumocystis Carinii Pneumonia 3 and-a-half years ago at the time of my initial diagnosis, spending ten days in the hospital and months recovering afterward; but now, my immune system has rejuvenated, increasing my T-Cells to a low normal amount and I have been undetectable for 2 years. I'm getting off track a bit....so anyway, I tend to worry & carry anxiety in buckets, so it's easier for me to get it out in the open -out of the way. I'd hate to get arrested and sent to prison for not disclosing my fucking HIV to a partner or potential partner.
So, following this sentence, was my Facebook status that sparked the first paragraph above and all thereafter.
"Another one bites my dust, deciding to, "Not go there" I mean [here] with me because I am HIV Positive. He texts me, "I could never bring myself to do anything sexual with someone who is pos while I'm neg." His prerogative and I accept it; however, he quickly tells me a "story" and by story, I mean made-up, and I let him get away with it. Why bother trying to say anything, but I spout off some statistics, tell him how healthy I am -undetectable- and then I stop myself, ending what could be perceived as me trying to convince him to change his mind. Fuck it, fuck him, & fuck the others that rejected me so, so nicely during the past 2 years. He tells me more about some other guy -his way of telling me that this is our last conversation. No goodbyes, only him repeating the tale of, "this could be the one!" Just rub it in, and rub it in some more. Again, fuck it! I hate this part of my HIV/AIDS diagnosis. I could have not told him, but I worry so had to get it out of the way -said and done! I should really keep quiet until the moment of penetration. Fuck me! No, really, fuck me! Please!"
So, the above was a response to a dear friend after she had responded to a Facebook status about having had rejection once again after disclosing my HIV positive status because, frankly, I rather get it out of the way -said & done! Communicate often and with full honesty makes life easier in the long run. I could have waited to disclose -Yes, waited until the minutes before sex (get em all worked-up and then drop the HIV bomb) because it's pretty much law in one way or another in most states that an HIV positive person must disclose to their sexual partner -which is fucked-up in my opinion because I could give you Hep-C and/or Herpes and not have had to mention it prior to sex and not be criminalized. However, I have that naughty gay disease of the 1980's and I have the potential to give anyone an excruciating, quick, and painful way to die (not sarcasm). That's not the case anymore -for example, Me: I was at death's door with Pneumocystis Carinii Pneumonia 3 and-a-half years ago at the time of my initial diagnosis, spending ten days in the hospital and months recovering afterward; but now, my immune system has rejuvenated, increasing my T-Cells to a low normal amount and I have been undetectable for 2 years. I'm getting off track a bit....so anyway, I tend to worry & carry anxiety in buckets, so it's easier for me to get it out in the open -out of the way. I'd hate to get arrested and sent to prison for not disclosing my fucking HIV to a partner or potential partner.
So, following this sentence, was my Facebook status that sparked the first paragraph above and all thereafter.
"Another one bites my dust, deciding to, "Not go there" I mean [here] with me because I am HIV Positive. He texts me, "I could never bring myself to do anything sexual with someone who is pos while I'm neg." His prerogative and I accept it; however, he quickly tells me a "story" and by story, I mean made-up, and I let him get away with it. Why bother trying to say anything, but I spout off some statistics, tell him how healthy I am -undetectable- and then I stop myself, ending what could be perceived as me trying to convince him to change his mind. Fuck it, fuck him, & fuck the others that rejected me so, so nicely during the past 2 years. He tells me more about some other guy -his way of telling me that this is our last conversation. No goodbyes, only him repeating the tale of, "this could be the one!" Just rub it in, and rub it in some more. Again, fuck it! I hate this part of my HIV/AIDS diagnosis. I could have not told him, but I worry so had to get it out of the way -said and done! I should really keep quiet until the moment of penetration. Fuck me! No, really, fuck me! Please!"
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
In 1989, while while visiting my grandmother in Boy River, Minnesota, my
father and I took a few days to drive up to Canada, returning to MN
south of Thunder Bay so we could once again experience the North Shore.
Even though we had done the drive before, it never seemed to get old,
even to a 17 year old -my age at the time. I always enjoyed Gooseberry
Falls & Split Rock Lighthouse, but this time while having lunch in
Grand Marais, if memory serves me right, we noticed the framed posters,
photos on the wall and one stuck out -one of The Witch Tree. I
immediately become enthralled by it's twisted trunk sprouting from a
massive rock along the shore. How could that be? I had to go see it in
person. I'm not sure if I asked someone or read it on the poster or
what, but my father and I somehow figured out where we had to go to to
start looking for this mystical tree. We drove up to Grand Portage and
stayed at the Naniboujou Lodge for the night. I remember waking up
early and taking a walk along the lake shore at sunrise -it was a chilly
July morning, I remember putting on a long sleeve henley. After
breakfast, my father and I drove up to the old fort and drove down some
road, almost to it's end. We saw one sign, that had no mention of The
Witch Tree. I recall thinking at the time how difficult it had taken us
to even get to where we were on this search for the tree -this
beautiful, intriguing, captivating tree captured on film and printed on
posters...one would think that there would have been more interest in
seeing this tree and therefore a more clear and defined direction to it,
but no. I started walking down a path near the sign on the road and
after a few meters the path disappeared; the path I was walking had
grown over from lack of usage I assumed. I knew the lake was in front
of me so I kept walking till I reached the shore of Lake Superior. Once
there, I looked to my right, then to my left, and that's when I saw the
tree some meters away. It was magnificent. Soon my father caught-up
and we both admired in silence The Witch Tree sprouting from the large
lake shore rock. I couldn't believe we had found it. Was it luck, or
determination, I don't know -both! After saying a prayer and our
farewell, we trotted back through the woods toward the road we came
from. We emerged from the trees at a different location, from where we
had entered. There I noticed a second sign -it was further down the
road and hidden by vegetation. I'm not sure exactly how the words on
the sign read, but it mentioned the Native American Tribe and the sacred
grounds beyond the road and that only authorized tribe members could
walk beyond the sign. It was more than an "oops," to my father and I,
but we both agreed that we hadn't disturbed anything and had left the
area as we had come upon it. So, we said an apology to the spirits, got
in our car, and drove off. Oh, I did take one photograph.
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