The Haunting Time Is Coming Near!

The Ghoullog - Mountaintop Haunt at Cranmore, North Conway, NH

Restarting the Project

I started, but didn't complete the photographs I had planned on taking. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself, however in my defense... Feeling out of it, generally shitty and having to take and edit photos on top of dealing with the Holidays.... My mind goes elsewhere, as in hibernation, and I slacked off. I didn't post a photo a day like I was going to.

So here's the project for this year. Starting the first of February, I will post for this project again. I'm officially calling it the 52 week project... But if I can somehow juggle everything, and get a photo a day done... Than great... I will do such. The biggest motivators for me are putting me into something I know I have to get done. This will be one of those items.

I'm not sure where I'm going next with this disability battle... I have a feeling I may be taking action against both the disability company that has now twice denied me benefits, and the doctor who overdosed me on some seriously bad medication without a second thought. Indeed, this is the same doctor who claimed "Nothing is wrong" with me. Really sir, you're telling me the picture below tells you... There's nothing wrong with me?

Let me tell you something. Just because an injury doesn't present itself immediately after trauma, doesn't mean there isn't anything there or wrong. In some cases, it can take quite a long time for a problem to present itself... As it's done with me.

Just because you have a degree from some bullshit medical school, and the fact that you most likely kissed ass during your residency at Mass General doesn't mean you know what my body is feeling and telling me based upon one consultation. My biggest question is if you thought nothing was wrong, why was I put on a seizure controlling and pain management medication- on a dose that would cause damage to an adult?  Personally, asshole, I think it's because you get kickbacks from insurance and disability companies to give false information so the claims are denied.

Luckily, I believe in Karma. And trust me, what goes around will come around.
And you'll face what you've done to not only me, but how ever many other patients you've left dangling in the breeze.

As for the disability company which will remain nameless for the time being... I should have trusted the opinions and facts left in countless forums online absolutely bashing you for the careless, inconsiderate and cold way you treat us disabled people.

That's enough of a rant for now.
Oh, and on a funny side note. I was watching TV late one night last week, and my Ma and I happened to catch an episode of Judge Joe Brown. One of the cases involved a woman who was not only white trash, but was on full disability. She didn't appear to have anything wrong- there was no outward signs of an evident disability. When questioned what she had received full coverage for.... I hit the roof.

She's dyslexic.

I can see how it might be a reading, or speech, problem she may have. But her temper got the best of her, and she was slinging words around like the best of 'em. Luckily the Judge shut her up... But really?
I have a four inch thick file documenting problems I've had with my back for the past 5 years, and the additional mountain of forms my Doctor has been kind enough to fill out. It's been determined that the crash I was in back in March of 2007 hastened the genetic disposition I have to Arthritis and Degenerative Disc Disease in the lumbar area of my back. It's also been noted that I have Failed Back Syndrome- even though I have not had surgery, it can still be diagnosed- and it's the reason I'm in the state I am now.

You try walking around, and feeling your spine slip and slide out of place.
You feel what it's like to have one of the vertebrae "pop", and make an audible sound.
You take an hour in the morning to stretch before getting out of bed.
You deal with the medications, the paperwork, the bullshit red tape.

I'll tell you what though.... You picked the wrong person to make "go away".

I'm not going to do it. I haven't thus far, and I'm sure not going to start now.


I'm not drugged out and feeling like one as often any more... But I freaking LOVE this dress. Sure I'm forgetful, sure things slip my mind and I end up looking at you as if you've got three heads when something I don't remember is brought up. It's better than a blank stare, right?

Image from TooFastOnline
Thanks for listening to me vent the other day. It was rough, but I'm doing better today. The sun's out, I found this awesome Zombie Dress... And it rocks.


I've been fighting words the past few weeks, I don't know how to talk. I don't know how to say it. So I'll just tell it as it forms. I don't know how to not break down...
Slowly, I'm cracking. Slowly, the fissures open up further and further... The pressure, the stress, the frustration and outright anger pushing them open more and more.

My "Merry Christmas" came in the form of a letter from the disability company I've been fighting with on December 27th. While my Christmas with my family was great, this was news I was hoping would be better this time around. The envelope was thick, a few pages of paper. I opened it... Started to read... Scanned for what I was looking for, but instead found...


Again. I've been fighting with M for months. Hell, a few more and we can call it a year. Between me doing all the footwork for their lazy, brainless, insincere and cold uncaring treatment from the beginning, and this second devastating blow, I broke. I cried, for a long time. It was days before I decided I should wear something other than PJ's around the house. Days before I could come up with a reason, any reason, to get out of bed. Days before I ventured outside. Even this morning, it was a monumental effort to drag myself out of bed to come downstairs. I have very little interest in anything lately.

Happiness is fleeting. I have good days, I have bad days. I have really bad days. Each is consisting of a various amount of things- including pain level, stress level, mental state, motivation... Blah blah blah. When I have one, typically it's ok to plaster on a smile and will myself to feel better. Two or more, and I let myself just melt into my chair... Computer on my lap, not really paying attention to what's on my screen.... And let the hours tick away. Wasting time, so much that by the time my eyelids droop, my eyes sting, and my head is foggy... I finally retreat to bed.

This not working, not being active, not doing much of anything is so unlike me.
I'm used to working. I'm used to be go-go-going. This fog, this pain, this entire thing I've become so comfortably numb with is slowly eating me away. I hate it.

Can you imagine how hard it is to sit up, roll out of bed. To look into a mirror and see a body that should be functioning with little problem. A body that should be skiing down a mountain slope, not curled into a recliner at an odd angle trying to find that "sweet spot" which is comfortable. A body which does not do what I want it to. Painful spasms, kinks, contractions which hurt. Feeling like I've sat down on a baseball on good days, and a cantelope on bad. The really bad days... I don't have a comparable object. Sort of like the Princess and the Pea.... Except mine's stuck in my friggen back. Multiple places.

I've shocked some people with my appearance. I've lost 60 lbs since I came home. I'm noticeably thinner, even when I do wear bulky clothing. I know it's a compliment when people tell me I look good... Mostly, I don't disagree. But look at the cost of my new figure. Months of being off my feet. A misdiagnosis from multiple doctors, an overdose of a heavy duty medication from a supposed neurologist. Musical-chairs with medications, trying combinations of this and that to see what works... What alleviates my pain, what alleviates the spasms, what will put me into manageable condition where I can partially function. I've found part of the answer now- with the help of Dr. C. It's only been since the end of September I've been able to say I'm not in a drug-induced medication fog. Not completely, at any rate. I'm impaired enough that I still cannot drive. That, for me, was my freedom. Get in the vehicle, drive a while. Think, calm down, see the big picture. Escape for a while. Now I'm just a passenger wherever I go. Though, I have to admit I like that my ass doesn't spread across the entire width of the seat anymore, and I do like that.

When I do smile, when I do laugh... I try to hold on to it for as long as I can. I want to be the silly, quirky, bubbly person I was just a year ago. I paint my makeup on so I can find happiness in it. I try to feel better...

But some days it's just too much effort.


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