Wednesday
October 16, 2002
I
had updated my journal really I had but it's all gone because
I didn't upload it and there is so much shit on my computer
that I couldn't save the file so it got corrupted and fucked
up the entire month. I am ready to start trashing shit off
my machine. I want my own server.
I
had the worst nightmare last night. I killed someone and
I was running around trying to hide but I knew I wasn't
going to go to jail because I have this fucking thing in
my head. I talked with Samantha and she told me it probably
was me killing my brain.
There
are now two mes. The dream me and the real me. The real
me could not distinguish from the dream me today. I woke
feeling scared, unrest and frightened that I had hurt someone.
There was construction going on outside at fucking 8 am.
It woke me up and I had to pee. I was not in a good mood.
I am never in a good mood when I wake up.
I
talked to the dectective in charge of my domestic violence
case and told him how I am having problems and he told me
I should go to Daniel Freeman hospital and tell them to
send me to Harbor because I am so sick. My eye is twitching,
I am always in pain and I am having tremors. I figured I
would just walk until I fell to the ground.
It
would be nice to get fixed. Samantha sent me a letter expressing
her concern for her health because her new doctor brushed
her aside and it sounded so horrible. It's so bad that we
are not getting the care that we need and I feel very clingy
to Sam right now. She is scared to go to the Neurosurgeon
by herself and I told her I would fly out there to be with
her. We are both scared a lot. I got some very encouraging
words from Patsy. (not that was my mother's name) She told
me that this was a gift from God and that we get it and
he doesn't give you anything you can't handle. I know all
these things because I have heard them before but it's always
nice to hear them again. She went on to say that we can't
blame the people around us for not getting it but that we
needed to give them even more love because of the lack of
understanding.
I
hate Florent. I can't stand him. He just came to pick me
up from work and started saying mean things to me about
being sick. Hateful things about me not thinking right and
I didn't understand. I am so sick of him. I am convinced
he is just here to antagonize me. He told me how he came
home and cried all day because we don't get along. I told
him I was crying at work today too. But I don't think I
care enough about him to stick it through. I know I always
say that but things have to stack up for me to realize it's
not my bag.
He
told me that everytime we make love the next day I use his
energy against him. I wish there was a way we could get
along but I am coming to the realization that no one but
me can take care of me. I lose energy when we make love
so he is telling me that we need to quit making love. I
just need another lover.
I
think the dectective was right though. I think I should
go to the hospital and tell them my symptoms and make them
operate because there is no way anything is ever going to
happen if I am not stirring up the shit. I want my own place
to live. I can't take it anymore.
Thursday
October 17, 2002
I
didn't make it to work today. I woke up in the morning and
felt so bad I couldn't get out of bed. I feel myself getting
weaker and weaker. I had a facial today. She cleaned out
my pores and zapped me with this electrical thing that was
so cool. Her name was Tanya and we sat there and she chatted
me up in Russian. It was very nice. She called me hitranka.
Liuda used to call me that too. I miss her. I wish I could
find her.
I
wish I could be emotionally stable for a while but I am
starting to wear thin. I told everyone about my nightmare
about killing someone. Guy, one of the programmers at work,
told me that I was probably on too much medicine. Samantha
told me that I was trying to kill the cyst (because I did
stab someone) and Rita took me to a place that was unreal.
Florent was just worried if it was him.
That
Rita is something else. She used to teach at Esalan.
She has Parkinson's and I think she is just so happy when
people are nice to her. I know how hard it is to be young
and face these problems but to be older and knowing... that's
a different story.
My
fucking nerves are killing me. It hurts too much to type
(which is why I don't type as much anymore). I'm always
thinking though... Life is short.
Friday
October 18, 2002
God...
please let me get either one of the jobs I have interviewed
for. I want the one photographing around the states more
than anything.
Florent
opened my computer and saw that I had written how much I
hated him and was so offended. WTF. Going around to places
living in hotels sounds like a good idea right now. At least
I wouldn't have to clean up after him or even live with
him.
I
just don't know what to think these days. I am sitting at
Mama's sandwich shop here around Artesia Blvd. There is
a group of men sitting close to me and Marlin Manson's version
of Like a Virgin is playing on my computer as I type these
words. My meal is the special, made with old tuna, cheese,
and rye bread. The Clam Chowder is too hot to eat. There
is half eaten Macaroni salad and a piece of watermelon cut
in a triangle. This restaurant reminds of some of the dives
I have eaten at on the road. The girl is coming on my computer
now and the men are trying not to pay attention. My Purse
that my mom bought me when Anne had leukemia is sitting
here as well as the leather satchel Jen brought me back
from Florence. It broke the other day. Florent took some
wire and put it back together.
A
lady with a fat gut walked by and I lost my appetite. I'm
sick of being fat. I am sick of everything. I think I just
should go to the hospital today and make them do the surgery.
When the nerves start acting up on my other leg... I wish
I couldn't feel myself dying. That's what sucks the most.
I think back to the photo of me and you can tell I am smiling
in front of the camera because of my eyes and them photographing
that scar that I think caused my arachnoid cyst.
"This
is Hardcore" is now playing. The soup is gone and so
is most of the sandwich. All except for the crust. I was
one of those annoying kids that liked the crust cut off
my bread if the bread was not fresh. If it was fresh my
favorite thing to eat was peanut butter. I used to go to
the Rainbow store in Kentucky to get day old bread for 1/3
the cost of fresh bread. Ironkids bread was my favorite.
I
think I am in shock. A perpetual state of shock. I don't
know if other people that have nervous break downs experiences
the same kind of nervous breakdown I did but I am still
reeling over this thing. The pain lingers like a memory
from that angiogram they did of my heart and my head when
I was 17.
I
think about killing myself all the time. I hate being alive.
I hate living a life where I have no control over my body
or my mind. I keep trying to find mushrooms in a field of
shit but it's very hard. The neurontin is taken and the
meal is finished. My computer is up to 30% from 15. I love
having a laptop and finding the directions and then keeping
them on my laptop so that when I drive I know where I am
going. I have driven a lot lately. Typically Florent takes
me to work and then bitchs about taking me. Then I tell
him I'll take the fucking car and he can ride the bus. Then
he gets mad and tells me he needs a car and I tell him we
can't even pay for the one we have. He's such a fucking
moron. He starts talking about all these plans and we can
barely make it through the day. I wish he would pull his
head out of his ass and realize that we need to pay for
insurance and a place to live and have nice jobs and do
nice things.
But
I am slowly coming to the realization that life will never
be like that with him.
I
have got to get this job traveling. I can't stand it anymore.
Itchy feet. I want to go have brain surgery and then start
my job the next week. It's the quickest recovery you know...
because it doesn't involve motor skills. If I get the other
job then I will have Kaiser Insurance in 3 months which
will be nice although the thought of using people like cattle
bothers me a bit. Recruiting however... is a good field
to get into and I think the experience would be invaluable.
It's
almost 1 and my next interview is at 2. My makeup is smeared
and I need to freshen it up. Lipstick, the whole works but
I am not organized enough... there was some lipstick in
my purse... what do you know? Now I am going to go to the
car and roll a fat doobie.
Saturday
October 19, 2002
I
got the job! I am going to be working for elson-alexandre.
I
start on Monday. They know I am sick and are looking into
taking care of me. It's a family business and it seems like
I fit into the family. I am ecstatic.
I
am going to have to move far, far away but... Kaiser insurance...
Monday
October 21, 2002
I'm
sitting here in an awful room waiting to see the pain doc.
I am nauseated as usual and long for the doctor's office
setting of that place that gave me a facial. You walk into
one of those places and people are paid to be nice to you
and it shows. That's why lots of women out there pay $90
for a facial. It's nice to be pampered although I know that
the effects from this visit will last much longer.
I
know I shouldn't have but I couldn't help myself last night
I got caught up talking to Lynn. Her boyfriend has an arachnoid
cyst and he's suffering greatly because of it. It breaks
my heart because Kaiser knew about his cyst 10 years ago
and they didn't do anything. I have got to do something
to change the way people see this thing.
Lynn
has said many, many interesting things. She told me how
she could tell when it was the cyst that was talking and
when it was Warren. That makes me feel so good. Then I wrote
a couple of other people whose address I found on the net
and they wrote me back. I got caught up doing laundry last
night and couldn't talk to Kit. Her son has one and he's
just a babe.
I
do it for the babes. I don't care so much about myself anymore
but I never want anyone to have to suffer the way I have.
That's what I said to Stan the man at my interview on Friday.
I start work today. They asked me how I was doing...
Lynn
told me so many, many things. She's worked for NASA, Mediavision
and lives in the house that Netscape built. She lives in
Mountain View (the place where the Cisco boys were throwing
around millions of dollars just to live there). She fascinates
me to no end and I have a feeling the attraction is mutual.
I told her that I would go to Warrens next Neurosurgery
appointment if she wanted me to.
That's
what I would love to do. Set up appointments with people
for brain surgery doctor appointments and then go photograph
for Elson Alexandre at the country clubs. If I could organize
it so that I could do both things at one time that would
be great.
On
that note I think Samantha and I are acting like big babies.
I can go to other people's appointments but taking care
of myself is a whole different story. Not a lot of people
know she is sick again and I can tell by our phone conversations.
I
am so in love with my life again. Lynn was telling me how
she left her maniacal husband.
*
* *
I
didn't last 20 minutes. I was held up at the pain clinic
and didn't get to work until 12. I was told a lot of things.
I was a great salesman. I was bright and she would love
to work with me but I just had this attitude.
I
swear to god I feel like the most misunderstood person that
ever lived. I can't tell you how discriminated against I
feel because even though these people knew I was sick they
still ripped into me.
I
came home and called Kit. Her son has an arachnoid cyst.
He was diagnosed with autism and other problems and I started
talking to her and I said "I bet he has these bursts
of anger that come from no where and he has behavior problems."
"Yes
he does. "
"I
bet you have goosebumps."
"Yes
I do."
She
explained more about the location and size of the cyst "I
bet he has balance problems."
"Your
right... they diagnosed him with (something I can't remember)".
"I'm
sorry but your son is neither autistic nor is does he have
this disorder the docs are saying. He has an arachnoid cyst
and it is known to cause all these problems but there is
no research out there at all. All your sons problems come
from that cyst."
"When
he was a baby he used to cry and cry and cry until I took
his clothes off." I am Cathy Clay Streakier.
"And
he didn't want to be held like my other son did." Momma's
words echoing in my head about how I never wanted to be
held as a baby.
And
some of the pieces to the puzzle slowly going into place.
I have a broken consciousness. Mine because mine is in my
middle cranial Fossa. It splits into all these pieces and
I think it might sometimes be like split personality disorder
because even though I am conscious of the break when it
happens it's like having a seizure.
"...And
he can't tell you what is wrong with him. I'm (insert some
age here) and I am just now figuring out how to articulate
what is wrong with me." And now my heart stops and
I think about looking at that brain coloring book waiting
for my medication reading about the baby being made and
thinking to myself that momma was 8 when she was diagnosed
with ovarian cancer and it was slow growing. That means
she was probably has cancer when I was conceived because
it took another 8 years by the time it was big enough to
almost kill her so I think it was totally possible that
she was sick when both Anne and I were in the womb.
Ovarian
cancer causes birth defects. Anne didn't ruin mom's body
as she always claimed she did, I did. And it was Anne she
made sick because she wasn't healthy when she was conceived.
What was she exposed to in Germany? Did the military do
something to her?
I
read a plea from a girl that was 17 on the Mass General
NS site. She was just diagnosed and she is sick and scared
out of her mind. And I have been thinking of what I would
write to someone younger than me and what I was like before
I had surgery.
Wednesday
October 23, 2002
So
that guy quit. I guess since I wasn't here the other day
and hell broke out at work that other punk decided that
he didn't want to work here anymore. Thank God for me I
suppose especially since I left that photography hell hole
in tears. I don't want to put myself through any of that
shit ever again.
Dr.
Nago signed my EDD disability papers so that means that
I am on my way to having the state of California disability.
I was prescribed 150 Vicodan for a month. I was drooling
all over them until I spent the afternoon in the bathroom
vomiting.
I
have been working my ass off all day today. There was an
issue here at work and we had to update some security measures
so we had to fix everyone's account.
