The Pink House On The Corner
I went to my therapist last week, told her I felt I was sliding backwards and she told me to think of it more as a "slipping sideways" instead.
This whole thing with Chris has really affected me. She is still in a coma, now diagnosed with a MRSA infection in her lungs, and, according to her daughter, "it does not look good".
I have not been to see her, as she is in ICU and that's "family only" though her daughter said she would take me -- I just can't do it. All the memories of Bob's hospitalization back in 2010. Memories of his recent death, flooding back on me, in gruesome detail.
As my therapist said, "it doesn't do you or Chris any good, if you show up and fall apart in front of her."
So I sent flowers, not even sure if she'll notice...
On top of this, the flea problem in her apartment has escalated. I mean the things jump out the door and attack you before you EVEN step inside. I called a professional exterminator who has sprayed twice, but says Chris has "too much junk" piled against the walls, etc. and to work effectively, I'd have to remove stuff and pull out all her bedding, clothes, rugs etc. and wash everything.... Something I certainly am not comfortable with....
I tell you, I feel like I've waken up in a nightmare. First Bob, who I miss so very very terribly, and then Zenith, Boomer and now Chris. Add fleas from hell into the mix. A still trashed van at the body shop. And here I am all alone, trying to deal with everything.
Someone wake me up, please.
Oh and plus, both Kona and Ripley had to be treated for flea bite infections. Ripley is much better, but Kona is on her second round of antibiotics...
I did see the shrink, finally, last week. She diagnosed me with "GAD" i.e. Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Gave me a script for lorazepam. Wanted to try some anti-depressants. Which I nixed. Because I had, long ago, in another lifetime, been prescribed prozac and doxepin shortly after my divorce in 1989. And, after taking these drugs for a few months, I actually felt worse and then, I went home from work one Friday evening, took every single pill in the house, including dozens of sleeping pills, drank some alcohol and went to bed, knowing that no one would miss me until I didn't show up for work on Monday, and by the time they found me, it would be too late.
I was actually quite surprised to wake up the next day, horribly ill, and having hallucinations of my then newly dead cat (Socrates) jumping from dresser to bed and back, and the flowers on the wallpaper creeping like spiders toward the floor....
Scared the living hell out of me. I stopped taking the anti-depressants, cold turkey, much to my therapist's chagrin. Vowed never to put myself in that position again.
So lately, I spend most days curled on the couch with Kona and Ripley. Crying. Or watching brain-numbing TV. Some days, I don't even leave the house. The shades are pulled tight. Once again, I vomit nearly every morning. Have trouble sleeping at night.
I do have something to look forward to: in Feb., a dear old friend coming to visit. And then a different dear old friend in March. And so, all is not lost... and these things keep me going.
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