Sunday, January 11, 2015

And Then They Uncovered Them, And This Happened, etc.

Off the antipsychotic, I've found that I'm happier. I'm less out-of-it. My son says I'm more sharply witty. But piss me off? I'm a violent yeller with Tourette's Syndrome. It's kind of like this:

Such was the case when I got to band practice last night, uncovered my extremely expensive drum kit and found it had been TAKEN APART somehow, fiddled about, cymbals turned backwards, snare picked up and put back on the stand backwards (and that's a HUGE no-no) and my hi-hat coming apart. A tom-tom was unscrewed and falling off its base and the entire tom set up could be lifted off of the bass drum. I was FUMING. That is NOT the church's equipment to fuck around with. I found out later that the church custodian polished the floors before Christmas, me having missed the last service and leaving my drums covered. Dude. Go around them or for Christ's sake, take a fucking picture with your phone as to how they're supposed to go when you're done polishing the floor and screw them back together properly and put them where they belong, you dickwad! The vintage, original hardware is difficult to tighten and line up. The hi-hat is tricky, but not as tricky as the Dynasonic snare which has to be at a certain angle in its stand so I'm not hitting the rim constantly and can hit the skins. I didn't care one shit that I was in the house of God. I was almost screaming obscenities as I kept finding more things wrong. 

I'm kind of like this, like Ringo, only less polite: 

On the plus side, however, it was perhaps the first gig where I actually felt honestly talented. Our douchebag band leader included 2 brand new songs into the set list (we've bargained with him to limit it to one, but he's gone back to 2), Neither I nor 2 of the singers had ever heard these songs, so it was a huge act of improvisation on our parts with only 2 run-throughs on each song. But I nailed it. Right away. I came in once I heard the initial beat at practice and just pounded away. That almost never happens unless I'm on the djembe. I had asked the band leader 4 days ago for chord sheets to follow along with and a YouTube link in order to hear how the songs went, but he claimed he never received the email (when I copied the WHOLE band, and they all got it). YouTube searching would be fruitless, because with CCM (Crappy Christian Music), there are dozens of covers with different arrangements and God, literally, only knows what is in the leader's mind. 

On the double-plus-side, I had another EKG this week, which showed that this pesky Long QT Syndrome has since resolved itself coming off of the antipsychotic. The psychiatrist agreed with the Uber-Specialist Heart Lady. But it still came out abnormal, which Uber said is up to my cardiologist to figure out. I had the echocardiogram, which he still has to call me about with the results, and set up a stress test. There's a bet whether or not he'll see me or pass me off to another doctor. I saw him through a door at the hospital in Cardiology, and he knew I was there from the chitter-chatter while I was checking in, but he didn't appear in person in front of me. I fear he ran darting in the other direction, clutching his wedding ring and shouting Hail Marys.

If the psychiatrist wants to wait and see if I have a psychotic break before putting me on a different drug, I'm not sure I want to tell her about last night's violent outburst. We're giving it a month. If I Hulk out more than, let's say 5 times, I'll call for a new medication. Or maybe I just need to learn to control my temper. Nah. How bland would that be?

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