Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Continued Craziness

It is 11:00 on Saturday night and Parrish is in bed asleep.  From Monday morning  to Friday afternoon, his mania was unchecked, resistant to all the medicine we have on hand.  It drove him to extreme episodes of hyperactivity interrupted by short periods of weeping.  He didn’t know what triggered the episode but I suspect it was a combination his miserable mouth pain and a kind of dread about what is to come.

He repeatedly said he wanted someone to pull all of his teeth.  He asked me dozens of times what I thought the oral surgeon would say and do.  He persistently wondered aloud if I were going to be able to pay the bill. 

His new doctor, like most in Macon, does not accept payment from Medicaid.  Repeated attempts to assure Parrish that money was not the problem literally fell on deaf ears because he is having trouble hearing, not an uncommon symptom of his mania.  

When he spoke, he gestured widely and was loud and inappropriate.  When he cleaned up the kitchen he didn’t notice that his shoes were sticking to the floor where he spilled juice and Coke.  When he called me to show how good the kitchen looked, I hadn’t the heart to mention the floor and mopped it myself.

Parrish was disappointed when Dr. Orange changed his medication regimen by dropping his anti-anxiety medicine and doubling his mood stabilizer.  She didn’t change anything else.  The fact that this regimen doesn’t work is borne out by the intensity of his mania for the last five days.  With nothing to assuage his anxiety, it was intractable.   

The mania lasted until today, becoming worse as the week wore on.  He slept only in catnaps and woke me every night to ask me if I were okay.  He ate in fits and starts and by Thursday wasn’t eating at all.  Most of his calories were ingested as Budweiser.  He was irrational and confused, first angry then sad.  The roller coaster ride of bipolar disorder consumed him.

On Wednesday morning, he woke with a rash, along with some scattered hives, over his trunk.  So we discontinued his antibiotic, knowing the doctor would prescribe a new one on Friday.    

Thursday the madness intensified and ballooned into something I have never seen.  P began obsessing about his scheduled appointment with the oral surgeon, repeating himself dozens of times, saying something had to be done.  He could not stop talking about it and incessantly fingered his bad teeth.

He convinced himself that he was to have surgery on Friday morning, even saying he had to remember not to eat or drink after he went to bed.  He continued to repeat his concerns.  No one could finish a sentence for his interruptions.  He was unable to focus outside of himself and continued loud and animated.  He fell into tears from time to time, changing his focus to all the loss he has suffered, missing his grandmother and his Uncle John.  He made up stories about both of them but I didn’t correct him.  

P obsessed about the fact that most of his friends are professionals with a spouses and kids and big houses.  He called himself a waste of a human life and continued on for what seemed like half an hour, berating himself for being a failure.  The pity party was punctuated with declarations that he did not cause his mental illness, that he did not want to feel the way he does and repeating that he never intentionally hurt anyone. 

I could not accomplish a task, even a small one.  No matter what I set out to do, he found me and asked me to come and sit with him.  Then he began recapitulating is earlier rantings.

He talked about the possibility of electroshock treatment several times, saying, “Hook me up right now!  I will do anything to stop feeling this way.”

He was still hyper-manic when I went to bed at 1:00 AM and yesterday morning when I got up he had not been to sleep.  P was dressed and pacing and insisting that I get ready in a hurry, so he could “get this nightmare over with.” 

The oral surgeon prescribed a new antibiotic and advised us to find Parrish a dentist.  He said to call for an appointment when his infection was cleared up and Parrish had seen a dentist for a cleaning. Period.

I went to check out and learned there was no charge.  And I thought professional courtesy was a thing of the past.

All the way home P continued manic and was angry that he was not be treated right away.  When we were back at home, I gave him an extra dose of mood stabilizer.  He insisted on going with me to run errands, pushing himself to overcome the sedation.  He talked to everyone we ran into, total strangers, reaching out with a handshake and an introduction.  

He was winding down as we drove home and went directly to bed, where he remains.  He woke me this morning to report another itchy rash, so we stopped the new antibiotic.  Since then he has only been up for food and the bathroom.

No wonder he is willing to have electrical currents pulsed through his brain. 

© 2013 cjschlottman   

Monday, June 10, 2013

You Can't Make Up This Shit

When I can make the arrangements, P needs to be in hospital for stabilization.  His drinking is out of control, his behavior is erratic at best and he is forgetful and confused.  But now I must put out this fire (the dental issues) before I can move forward with hospitalization.  I don’t care what they say at River Edge, he is far from stable.

He has been manic for two days.  He wakes me from a sound sleep to ask for medicine before it is time for it.  He wakes me from a sound sleep to ask me if I am asleep.  He talks ad finitum when I will listen.  He loves talking about history and would have been a great teacher if he were not so sick.  He is passionate about history and would have been an inspiring teacher.  Last night he gave me a two hour lecture about the war in Vietnam.

In the midst of all this chaos around Parrish’s mouth, Marcy has called repeatedly.  I have blocked her from every number from which she has called, but she just borrows different phone and keeps calling.  In a facebook message, she asked him to buy her a car.  Then she asked him for $3000. to save her family's home.  Again, I did not make up this shit.  This is what I live with.

Here are a few facebook message (paraphrased):

Trying to call you from wills phone....I guess his number is blocked too..wow..I was just able to call you yesterday.. ms claudia is really pissing me off parrish...take the money to get a cell phone please...she's not going tp keep me from you...in all due respect...I'm not afraid of her anymore and will put up a fight for you..its rediculous to be on this position..but the h

Omg parrish..please let mr know what has happened to you..possibly an infection or allergic reaction to something. Bless your heart..ill pray for you that its not serious..are you w your mom? What hospital and if you get admitted pleade call tay or grams phone to keep me updated..I will be worried about you till you call me ..anytime ok? 

I wish you eould have called me before you went...honey..I'm not worried about marnie.I know you love me and would probably be the only one in my life that would and has been faithful..parrish..it feels so good not to have anytthing to do with danette (the abusive lesbian lover) anymore...my love for you is so huge....grande poppy mucho grande...I hope you feel better..are you having trouble swallowing? Please don't tell me its your liver or kidneys retaining the fluids.. awww bebey..you need momma dukes to be there...I would lay next to you in your hospital bed like we used to....if you need to get ahold of me and you can't through your mom..use a griend of yours to get information to me by either a phone call..text. fb to tay or moms phone....I'm going to be thinking about you every minute..I wish I haf the money to fly up there right now and surprize you. Of course I would spend the night and rub down

I have tried to get in touch with you all morning I am going to the hospital because I"m infected. I never can get in touch with you when l need to.who do you think you are? I need you and you think it is all a joke! Marcy,where are you when the going gets tough? I,m on my way to Emory with a fever of102! Honestly don't ever say I neglect you! I have no idea how long I will be gone. I need surgery on my left gum. My friends will take care of me.

I can't wait to see you and look into your eyes. My face is so swollen and hideous looking. I have much to do concerning $ matters. I have much decisions to be made over my financial future. I almost want to go out West and become a recluse. I just took 4 mgs of dilauid to ease my pain. Write back.

Things are not well here. I have had oral surgery, and feel like death. My MAMA is a total degenerate, who is being irrational and flat out mean! I"m sorry for the last couple of days, I've been in the hospital,sedated. I AM Waiting on my new teeth. My mental health is not well! Mama is being a pain in the behind! Things are going so fast, I don't know what to do! All I know is l love and need you more than ever. I need to meet with my lawyer, and see about making a withdrawal from my IRA. Please don't forsake me lover, for I need and love you! Tell the boys, I love them, and I will see them GOD SPEED! Tell T.J., to look @ the preseason College football top 10! Hope you are well my love. I'm in much pain, for my face hurts and is swollen.

Clearly there is plenty of nitwitery to go around.  He continues to send her mixed messages and complain about me when all the while he is declaring his love for me.  He begs me to block all of her numbers and block her on facebook, then he calls her from my phone and unblocks her from facebook.  He tells lies of incredible magnitude, like taking Dilaudid and having a fever and going to Emory and haven g surgery.  I don’t have any control over this, but the fact that it is going on wears on me.

Oh, and she put a hex on me so I will be sick for the rest of my life.  I am not making this up.  I am trembling from fear.

Health Care Continues to Let us Down

Wednesday morning when I got up, there was a terrible odor coming from Parrish’s room.  I couldn’t figure out what it was but thought it might be body odor triggered by his medicines.  Soon thereafter he got up and the odor followed him into the kitchen.  I sniffed him to see if it were coming from his body and made the awful discovery that the smell was coming from his mouth.

Yes, from his mouth.  He complained that his teeth were hurting.  (He only has a few left on the bottom in front).  I took a look into his mouth and found pus draining from his gums.  Ever the one to take action, I found some antibiotics and gave him a big dose.  Then I had him rinse with half strength hydrogen peroxide and water.  I tried to figure out what to do next.

As the day wore on, the odor persisted and P began to complain of pain in his teeth and jaw.  I drove him to Urgent Care where, after a short wait, we were ushered into a typical boring examination room, painted that dreadful biscuit color and having not one modicum of life about it. 

She a left, saying the doctor would be in soon.  I assume his vital signs were all normal because she didn't mention them.  The doctor, a mousy sort, came in and got just close enough to P to look at his teeth, then he backed up to the doors and peered at P as though he had maggots in his mouth.  He stood there and told Parrish he has periodontal disease. He left the room without so much as touching P, saying he would write scrips for pain and an antibiotic.    

There was pus draining from Parrish’s gums and by that time he was complaining of his ears hurting.  The doctor didn’t so much as to get a white count or an x-ray to see if there were bone involvement.  Hell, he didn’t even look in P’s ears.  I grow increasingly disillusioned with health care every time I am involved with it.  I am certain that P would have received more complete care if he were privately insured. Cynical?  Yes.

We were home by 6:30 and once we were here, I was faced with the problem of managing pain meds in an addict with a very high tolerance for opoids.  The doctor prescribed Lortab 7.5mg every eight hours.  I gave P two tabs in his first dose because his pain was so acute.  I told him it was a one time deal and that I would follow the instructions on the bottle.

He was agreeable at first but as time passed, he became agitated, saying he could not bear the pain and insisting he needed a pain pill.  He insisted his jaw hurt more than it did earlier in the day.  I held my own and am still holding it but not without negative consequences for me.  P hounds me and complains and wakes me in the night trying to get more pills.  I am emotionally exhausted and short of patience and eating for all the wrong reasons and praying for Friday, when he has an appointment with a well respected oral surgeon.  

He complained that he couldn’t hear, especially in his right ear.  So......I irrigated both ears with peroxide.  It bubbled over out of his ears several times before it slowed down.  I thought that might help.  Nope.  He is still complaining, and it is clear that he can hardly hear.  I almost have to shout at him to be heard.  Is it because he spends so much time with ear buds inserted into his ears listening to loud music?  Does it have anything to do with his other symptoms?  

Jesus.  This business is wearing me out.  I haven’t felt rested in weeks, although I sleep long hours.  I use sleep as a hiding place, which is probably not good for me but I don’t care.  I have to find relief where I can.        

Thursday, June 6, 2013

If not for bad luck....... 04/03/13

April 3, 2013 

This morning when we arrived at River Edge for P’s appointment with Dr. Brown, the receptionist said Parrish didn’t have an appointment. In addition, she told us that Dr. Brown didn’t come in on Wednesdays. She gave P an appointment on May 4! The only psychiatrist who has seen Parrish in the one in the hospital. Things are getting worse by the day. 

Earlier this afternoon, Parrish’s “girlfriend,” the woman he was living with in Florida, broke up with him. She has been stringing him along with volumes of emails and facebook messages, passive aggressive pages in which one day she says she loves him more than life and wants to come to Macon to live with him, and the next day she doesn’t know how she feels. 

Today, she sent a facebook message that she is back with her lesbian lover. No shit. Fifteen minutes later she wrote that she couldn’t live without Parrish. He let her get away with this behavior for six months, choosing only to remember the positive messages. 

There were more messages back and forth. She wants to come see P, she never wants to see him again. He finally insisted give him a yes or no answer to the question, “Do you love me?” She tried to continue her blather, but Parrish insisted on an answer. She said “No.” 

He is devastated and I am relieved. Before we could block her from our facebook pages, she sent me a message detailing her sex life with her lover. The first sentence what a description of what they do with Danette’s strap-on ****. That’s as far as I read. I felt contaminated and violated and I scrubbed the message. We blocked her from facebook, ditto email and telephone. P spends all of his time obsessing about the way she deceived him. He admitted giving her money so she could make ends meet. He, who has absolutely nothing except the clothes on his back, is that gullible. 

© 2013 cjschlottman

Sunday, June 2, 2013

I'm Tired of this Shit

Dear P,

It is 11:40 on Wednesday night, 29 May.  I am writing all of this down now so I won’t forget anything or misrepresent the truth.

We just had a huge fight that raged on for about 20 minutes.  You were drunk.  You accused me of wanting to lock you up for life and repeatedly told me you would never forgive me for having you arrested two times.  You said you would never forgive me for the time you spend in jail.  The truth is that if you had not been in my house so drunk and out of control, you wouldn’t have been arrested even once.  I refuse to let you blame me for your behavior.

You accused me of being addicted to opioids and benzos when the truth is that, before you moved in and started stealing my medicine, I could make 30 Xanax tabs last two months.  When I took pain medicine in the past, I have always had about half the pills left for emergencies.  Lately, because of my hip and knee pain, I needed all of my medicine, and because you stole half the bottle from me, I have to do without, at the cost of being in pain. I’m too old for that.

Are you a sociopath along with everything else?  How in the name of God can you take medicine from me when you know I need it?  When I confront you about the issue of stealing from me, you say something like “I didn’t take all of them.” What the hell does that mean?  You appear to have no remorse and you don’t apologize because you think you’ve done nothing wrong.  I have to force you to say you are sorry.

Over the years, I have repeatedly told you that I would have no part of your life unless you were helping yourself.  You were doing the opposite.  I am too old to police you every minute.  I have suffered terribly since Clint died, and I was and still am too fragile for this chaos.  
We will never know how your medicine works if you don’t get sober.  Drinking is the absolute worst thing you can do for your mental health.  You must stop, and I want you to seriously consider a 60-90 day rehab.  God, I hope I don’t have to have a judge order you to rehab.  I will, though.  I will.  I’m not in the rehab business and I am up to my neck with your acting out.  

You were so gassed tonight that you could not remember from minute to minute what you had done and said.  That is, in large part, because you began drinking beer before I got home from the store.  I don’t know why you think I am blind and stupid.  I suppose it is part of the delusional aspect of your illness, but believe me, I know when you are drinking.

Kristy and Bert were here for family time, and we also invited Marnie and Chris, who came over to play his guitar along with YouTube so we could sing along, but you kept interrupting, jumping from song to song because you wanted to.  Nobody wants to watch you drink yourself into oblivion or hear you repeating yourself or being inappropriate and unacceptable and selfish.

It’s a mystery to me that you manage to get your hands on beer.  Where do you get the money?  I lock up my wallet, my pills, my car keys and anything else I don’t want you to get your hands on.  It is true that a drunk will get a drink when he cannot get anything else. 

There can be no repeat of this evening.  It is not written anywhere that I have to tolerate you calling me an asshole and accusing me of not loving you. I don’t have to listen to that tripe.  And I don’t have to watch you kill yourself.

© 2013 cjschlottman