The results of my bloodwork came back on Friday. Gee, guess what? They ran a thyroid test they hadn't before and sure as all that is sacred, I need to be on thyroid medication!!!! I must be a freakin' genius!!! NO, I wasn't going to wait another 1-2 months to get this situation straightened out. I wanted a solution NOW, because I don't feel well NOW. So I was put on Synthroid, which should help me an awful lot. Guy said I don't really need an endocrinologist--that this should be easy enough stuff for a family doctor to figure out, so that's what happened there.....
I'm still seeing the neurologist on Tuesday (oh GAWD, that's going to be an expensive visit) about the possible "stroke me, stroke me," which could've been caused by my thyroid or my heart, which is another matter I found out about on Friday.
I haven't had an echocardiogram (an ultrasound of the heart) since 2010, when it was normal and I was being diagnosed with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, if you're new here). But my PCP is worried about how high my pulse is climbing. Guy, on the other hand, said that people with my thyroid condition typically run a very low pulse but, as usual, I'm a medical mystery. I've been having palpitations and it's been over 100 for a while, so he increased my heart medication and I might need a repeat echo since the blood test showed my heart's not pumping blood to my organs as well as it should be. I thought to myself, "All of this and now a bum ticker, too?" Hence the clip above. What else, Lord?
So HOPEFULLY, they'll start getting me straightened out soon. I sent Guy Warren Zevon (actually his son, Jordan's version)'s "Studebaker," which I've posted here before, but I told him the way I view this song is that my body is actually the "Studebaker." It keeps on breaking down. (He liked the song.)
Very moved to town, did I mention that? Isn't that fabulous news? I can't wait to meet her in person and we've been trying to get together, though my schedule's pretty packed, so I invited her out to dinner on Monday night. Nothing fancy, she just wants some authentic Chicago pizza (we were going to get some Gino's East right down the street from me). But sure enough, another screaming match about money happened yesterday between my mom and I (mostly on my mom's end, I don't usually say much other than an off-handed comment here and there and explaining every receipt I'm "required" to submit to her for MY STIPEND ACCOUNT). I'm running out of money again and don't get another stipend until June. Very's not in the best financial situation herself, looking desperately for work (if anyone needs a dog walker, personal assistant or an ACE photographer and artist, let me know!!!!) and I feel like a douchebag because I told her I would treat for dinner. Trouble is, I'll probably get the shit kicked out of me for ordering a pizza and spending more of that paltry $2k I have left to live on until June (my child support aside). She is so sweet, she said she didn't care if we even just went to Jimmy John's. I told her I wasn't sure I could even afford that. Either we can postpone dinner a week or so until I get child support or I can just fucking use my own fucking money and not fucking explain it to my motherfucking you know who. I suppose I could always use the stipend and put $ from child support back into the account when it comes. There's an idea! (Very, don't' despair, I'll get you your pizza!)
If my mother could only get out and DO something with her life other than fret--like volunteer, get a part-time job at Michael's or a craft or antique store--anything--food pantry--shelter--anything--to get her out of the house and out of her narcissistic mind, maybe that would help. It's been suggested to me and I might suggest it to someone else influential who *might* be able to persuade her to leave the house once in a while and do something altruistic instead of obsess about the money I loaned out to live on in grad school. She needs to learn a maybe harsh lesson about those less fortunate than she is, and to learn not to treat me like a child all over $. I do not feel loved. I feel like a liability. I am not an asset to my parent's life. As I've said so many times before, I'm a walking dollar sign.
I asked her if perhaps she would *consider* not charging me *rent* to live here in the house until my next stipend comes, read: don't be so greedy! when she knows I have to pay the rent on my storage unit every month too.
That storage unit is sucking the dough out of me, but where else am I supposed to store a 3 br apartment? Luke and I went there last weekend and found a treasure trove of goodies, including my honeymoon photo album from England and France. It was a great throwback for sure.
Now, Luke. I was pretty pissed at him yesterday because he turned on me. His sense of entitlement to things, being a spoiled only child, is out of control. He took HER side about what I spend my money on, when half of it's on shit for him. He assumes that if wants something, it'll be instant gratification and if he doesn't get what he wants, he throws a toddleresque tantrum and accuses me of not wanting to spend time with him. Nothing could be further from the truth. I just spend $60 on the renewal of his XBox membership and told him he's not getting an allowance for 6 weeks as a result. "Oh, but you told me you'd buy that for me!" he said. Yes, I may have said that in the past, and I normally don't go back on my promises, but we're in dire straits. I can't afford it. Nor can I afford the graphic novels he wants me to buy, or a new Guitar Hero controller because he broke his old one....fucking deal with it and save your money, or hit up your father, who pays for very little in Luke's world. (e.g. his WHOLE TUITION!) My mom thinks braces on Luke's teeth are a "luxury" and not a necessity, since she didn't get braces for either my brother or I. Luke NEEDS braces. That's another upcoming expense. I refuse to relent on that, though Craig will be helping out a lot on that end, I think. It's not like Luke's having liposuction--the child needs braces. Fuck, I need braces! Her illogical concept of finances knows no bounds.
So you see why I'm sort of even more anxious about things around here? My body is failing me (again), my mom's on my ass 24 hours a day about my own money and my son thinks it grows on trees.
Last night in church, we did a contemporary version of the old standard hymn, "It is Well," "it is well with my soul..." Another funeral hymn. I wrote down to add it to the list of songs I'd like in the event I don't make it. I lost it during practice reading the lyrics as I played my djembe, and thankfully, I sit behind everyone else so nobody could see the tears streaming down my face. Yes, I guess you could say all of this has thrown me into an episode of major depression. Can you blame me?
I'm reminded of a Bob Dylan quote which has stuck with me since I first heard it as a teenager.
"It is possible to become so defiled in this life that your own mother and father will abandon you, and IF that should happen, God will always believe in your own ability to mend your own ways."
I want to and should go back to sleep. Which I guess I should enjoy before Luke and I are parted--he off with his father in their own personal hell (he HATES IT over there) and me in a homeless shelter.
It's starting to look that way.