...I'd get myself a tent and sleeping bag and go join the Take Over Philadelphia protestors. I am fed up and disgusted with government and big business too. As it is, I don't think I could handle being out in the elements with everything I've got going on.
I am so mad about what happened to TB yesterday. I blogged that he had a cracked tooth that he'd kept to himself for about a year because he knew we didn't have the insurance or finances to fix it. He told me about it when his jaw began to hurt relentlessly. I called the clinic in town--the one that serves those on a fixed income and who have little or no insurance--and got an appointment. I told them he'd probably need his tooth pulled because it's broken. TB went to the regular doctor meantime and got a script for an antibiotic. Tooth infections can cause all kinds of problems for the heart.
So we go for the appointment yesterday and wait for an hour before he's finally called. They took an Xray of the broken tooth and then the doctor tells him sorry, he's got to go elsewhere for either an extraction or root canal. The doctor says the clinic has stopped doing extractions and root canals. I wish someone had bothered to tell me that when I called 2 weeks ago to make the appointment! I would have called one of the recommended dental schools right off the bat.
That's where we have to go ... to a dental school in Philly or in Newark.
That's why I would join the protestors if I could. TB and I haven't had a COLA in three years but our expenses for everything keeps going up. It gets harder and harder to manage and if there's an emergency, we're screwed. The people who are protesting are basically in the same boat. They're under-employed or unemployed. Maybe they have benefits but I bet many do not. They can't meet expenses.
Meanwhile, the wealthiest Americans continue to get tax breaks. The Republicans claim if we tax the wealthy and big business, it'll kill the jobs market. What a laugh and a half. These rich businessmen have been enjoying all these tax breaks and their wealth for years--since President Bush--and they haven't generated decent jobs for anyone! Instead, they take advantage of tax breaks to send what could be decent jobs overseas.
I don't think there's any middle class anymore. I think there is getting by, skirting the line of disaster, and poor.
I also think this protest is going to continue growing. People have really had it. I know I have!
Friday, October 7
Thursday, October 6
Update
I've been absent for nearly a month, for many reasons. One has been a sort of "brain freeze" for writing. There's been a certain blahness and sameness to the day-in day-out stuff and the pains of financial struggles. I do want to get back into blogging more regularly though and thought to start out with an update.
Poor Cubby developed a horrendous infection in his tail. We're not sure how it happened but suspect that Munchkin may have scratched or bitten him. We didn't realize anything was wrong until the infection had progressed so far the vet thought Cubby might lose part of his tail! TB and I had him isolated in the office to keep him away from the rest of the gang. We were applying medication to his tail and giving him oral antibiotics. We had compresses on his tail to help the infection drain. We sat with him a lot to keep him company and so that he wouldn't knock off the compresses or worry his tail. Well, it all paid off because he's healed beautifully and didn't lose his expressive tail!
I was in a great deal of pain one day and ended up going to the emergency room with TB. It turns out I had a kidney infection. I had a cat scan of my kidneys and there might be an adenoma on the left side. I also seem to have a hiatal hernia which isn't really bothering me. Anyway, I'm seeing a kidney specialist about the adenoma later this month.
TB's in more pain than ever because he has this cracked tooth that has exposed the pulp. I persuaded him to go to the doctor for an antibiotic while he waited for a dental appointment. It's true he should have gone to the dentist when it first cracked but, he told me, it didn't hurt and we didn't have the money for the appointment. We don't have dental coverage. Now, though, it's become critical and so we called for the earliest appointment. It's today. Also today, TB's seeing the kidney specialist because he's got a lot of protein in his urine. It could be damage from the diabetes he'd had for so many years ... or maybe he's just taking in too much protein.
I was doing more chauffeuring than usual in the last 2 weeks due to broken down cars and what have you. No one can afford to get a car fixed, including TB and me. Luckily the car trouble Heidi had seemed to be related to a disconnected hose and was easily fixed.
I started working with my therapist on PTSD issues and my writing. I'm hoping this 12 week program helps. So far I'm not noticing a difference.
Here are the two memories that most interfere with my writing:
When I was a little kid--maybe 2nd grade--I wrote this story about a couple of kids, a talking black-eyed Susan and a magic flying carpet. Apparently my teacher submitted it to a local paper and they published it in their Sunday magazine. My teacher told me about it and I went home proudly and told my mom. She didn't believe me and got really angry with me, calling me a liar. No one would publish one of my stories in the paper! I felt confused and ashamed and scared. The next day, the teacher wanted to know what my family thought and I told her they didn't believe me. She gave me the magazine to show my mother. My mom apologized but it was sort of too late. I already doubted whether or not I could really write.
The other memory is from when I was about 12. I would hide my writings in my desk. I came home from school one day to find my mother holding my notebook in her hand, spitting fire and rage in her eyes. I'd been writing about a family with an "evil" stepmother and apparently my mom recognized herself. I didn't think I'd intended to write a story about my mother and actually remember very little about it except denying frantically that the stepmother was my mother. It didn't feel safe to write anymore and that's when most of the freeze started.
Sometimes I have strong bursts of inspiration and I have to write. I had one of these bursts ten years ago, when I wrote some fan fiction. Other times I've had some inspiration but it's but rare and far between. I know I can do it, though, because I took a creative writing class and, under the pressure of a deadline, I was able to produce.
The rest of the time, though, I'm just filled with doubts and self-recrimination.
Well, with this therapy, I'm supposed to read the memories over every day to lessen the impact. I also pick out different incidents, write down what happened, what I tell myself, and what I think as a result of all of it.
I thought about tracking my progress over the remaining weeks of therapy. I guess we'll see if I follow through with it!
Poor Cubby developed a horrendous infection in his tail. We're not sure how it happened but suspect that Munchkin may have scratched or bitten him. We didn't realize anything was wrong until the infection had progressed so far the vet thought Cubby might lose part of his tail! TB and I had him isolated in the office to keep him away from the rest of the gang. We were applying medication to his tail and giving him oral antibiotics. We had compresses on his tail to help the infection drain. We sat with him a lot to keep him company and so that he wouldn't knock off the compresses or worry his tail. Well, it all paid off because he's healed beautifully and didn't lose his expressive tail!
I was in a great deal of pain one day and ended up going to the emergency room with TB. It turns out I had a kidney infection. I had a cat scan of my kidneys and there might be an adenoma on the left side. I also seem to have a hiatal hernia which isn't really bothering me. Anyway, I'm seeing a kidney specialist about the adenoma later this month.
TB's in more pain than ever because he has this cracked tooth that has exposed the pulp. I persuaded him to go to the doctor for an antibiotic while he waited for a dental appointment. It's true he should have gone to the dentist when it first cracked but, he told me, it didn't hurt and we didn't have the money for the appointment. We don't have dental coverage. Now, though, it's become critical and so we called for the earliest appointment. It's today. Also today, TB's seeing the kidney specialist because he's got a lot of protein in his urine. It could be damage from the diabetes he'd had for so many years ... or maybe he's just taking in too much protein.
I was doing more chauffeuring than usual in the last 2 weeks due to broken down cars and what have you. No one can afford to get a car fixed, including TB and me. Luckily the car trouble Heidi had seemed to be related to a disconnected hose and was easily fixed.
I started working with my therapist on PTSD issues and my writing. I'm hoping this 12 week program helps. So far I'm not noticing a difference.
Here are the two memories that most interfere with my writing:
When I was a little kid--maybe 2nd grade--I wrote this story about a couple of kids, a talking black-eyed Susan and a magic flying carpet. Apparently my teacher submitted it to a local paper and they published it in their Sunday magazine. My teacher told me about it and I went home proudly and told my mom. She didn't believe me and got really angry with me, calling me a liar. No one would publish one of my stories in the paper! I felt confused and ashamed and scared. The next day, the teacher wanted to know what my family thought and I told her they didn't believe me. She gave me the magazine to show my mother. My mom apologized but it was sort of too late. I already doubted whether or not I could really write.
The other memory is from when I was about 12. I would hide my writings in my desk. I came home from school one day to find my mother holding my notebook in her hand, spitting fire and rage in her eyes. I'd been writing about a family with an "evil" stepmother and apparently my mom recognized herself. I didn't think I'd intended to write a story about my mother and actually remember very little about it except denying frantically that the stepmother was my mother. It didn't feel safe to write anymore and that's when most of the freeze started.
Sometimes I have strong bursts of inspiration and I have to write. I had one of these bursts ten years ago, when I wrote some fan fiction. Other times I've had some inspiration but it's but rare and far between. I know I can do it, though, because I took a creative writing class and, under the pressure of a deadline, I was able to produce.
The rest of the time, though, I'm just filled with doubts and self-recrimination.
Well, with this therapy, I'm supposed to read the memories over every day to lessen the impact. I also pick out different incidents, write down what happened, what I tell myself, and what I think as a result of all of it.
I thought about tracking my progress over the remaining weeks of therapy. I guess we'll see if I follow through with it!
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