Saturday, October 15, 2016


Of course: the chemicals.  I became ill about a week and a half ago.  Nothing new there.  This apparently has become my body's way of objecting to my life.  I go a few days without eating, then slowly work my way back up.  I know it's insane, but that's what mental illness is.

The problem with this round was that I wasn't getting better, only worse and worse. I started falling down, a lot.  I flopped like a fish on my apartment floor, on the hallway floor, on the basement.  The last one, yesterday, I almost broke my collar bone.  People said I wasn't making much sense and God knows what I did to my checking account. That alone will  take a day to figure out.

The cops did a welfare check on me last night.  They kept trying to talk me into going to the hospital, especially after they found out I had no phone or internet.  Hell, no!  This has become one of my deepest fears: stuck in a nursing home.  I will fight tooth and nail any attempts made to "take care" of me.

So, what was going on?  I thought and thought, and then it hit me.  My psych drugs vary from mild to "kill a horse."  My new shrink said I was on a very heavy dosage, all meds considered.  I cut out the Seroquel and other downers this morning and I've been feeling better ever since.  I've eaten.  I can walk around without falling down.  I got the phone and computer back online.  I'm farting lilacs.

A special thank you to four people who have helped me along.  Angels do walk the earth.

Post Script:  A day later.  Last night I decided to test my theory again.  After the efforts of the day were completed,  I took a Seroquel.  Within an hour I was on Rubber Legs Street again.

That's it and I haven't had one since.  I spent the entire day running errands, budgeting, and doing housework.  Still no detectable signs of withdrawal.  I'm seeing my new shrink tomorrow.  We have a lot to talk about.

Thursday, September 8, 2016


Wow, it's been a long time since I've visited the "JM" series.  It's been nearly two months since my birthday, and that's the last day the "JM" series had been written.  God, so much shit has happened since then, all of it negative.  My memory is like Swiss cheese.  It was bad to begin with, but then I soaked it in booze and drugs for 25 years.  Then I sobered up, but I still can't remember someone's name from just one visit.  It's embarrassing to be saluted by name by someone whose name I've forgotten.  It doesn't seem to work if I try "harder."  My brain is just going to do what it wants to do.  The blowout at the JT Irregulars and the loss of my retiring psychiatrist put me into a state of "mourning" she said.  I'll come out of it when my brain wants me to.  Or not.

Smacking into a car about a week ago hasn't helped things.  I was given a $100, 4-point ticket.  I have liability, but no comprehensive insurance for my truck and me.  Every insurance agent I know would say that's silly because the truck is 20 years old.  That doesn't help when your vehicle sustains about $1000 in damages.  Shit.  I'm going to have to do some banging around in there in order to install a new (used) headlight assembly and lens.  I won't have the money for this until November.  I usually don't drive at night, anyway, but some cop may become sick of seeing my damaged truck during the day.

And I just renewed my registration.  I didn't even have the sticker on at the time of the accident.  Another $75 I didn't have.  I get so tired of one step forward and then two steps back.  FTS! (Fuck that shit.)

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The above was written a couple of days ago.  Nothing's changed.  I gave a recorded statement to my Safeco claims adjuster.  She said it'll probably come out as 100% my fault.  She's Hispanic with a heavy accent.  I spent half the time saying, "What?"  I could tell she was getting pissed off.  I'm sorry, but I rarely have problems understanding native speakers.  Hispanic I've always been able to understand, too, but her accent is so heavy, I couldn't understand parts of it. I'm going to court over the ticket on Oct. 5.  I don't expect much to be done, but you never know.

I had an EKG done today on order from my new shrink.  I didn't realize it, but there's a doctor on hand to go over your results.  Mine was normal.  I asked everyone along the way why would a shrink order an EKG for a brand new patient?  No one had any idea but the doc said some medications can cause heart problems.

Since the blowout at the JTI, I don't feel like going online as often as I used to.  Fuck both presidential candidates.  It's like watching the sinking of the Titanic in slow motion.  Locally, no one seems that motivated, either.  In fact, they never have in my time online.  So, fuck it.  Why should I bust my ass repeatedly for them?

Oh no, my modem is cutting in and out again.  It's brand new.  I asked for service and a guy showed on Saturday morning.  He checked a lot of stuff here, and then went out to check the signal at the base.  It's behind the end of the building.  The technician ended up doing this two times.  He said, "You know, it's really a heck of a walk to the back of the building and back to your apartment."  He also said the signal is strong at the base, but somewhere between there and here, the signal becomes shit.  He put an amplifier on the line and called it a day.  Everything worked OK until just a few minutes ago.  Fuck TWC or Spectrum, or whatever the fuck they call themselves these days.

That's a deterrent to online browsing and email.  I don't care anymore.

Sunday, August 28, 2016

"DNA sequencing saves young Racine girl"

From JSOnline:

, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel 9:56 p.m. CDT August 27, 2016

"Alan Mayer stared at a wall in the intensive care unit at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin, worrying as his patient, 15-month-old Addyson Valley, grew dangerously ill.

"The pediatric gastroenterologist had placed her on the highest doses of calcium and phosphate a patient can receive, yet her levels remained desperately low. The heart depends on calcium to beat properly, and the infant’s deficiency threatened to send her into cardiac arrest.

"Also, Addyson’s gut was leaking protein, impairing the function of her intestines and raising fears that a buildup of fluid outside the vessels could turn her body into a boggy swamp. She could, in essence, drown in her own body fluid.

"She was bloated. She was lethargic. She was dying."

"Addyson had been sick all of her short life, projectile vomiting most food, lagging severely on the growth charts, going through one infant formula after another, and one medical test after another. No one knew what was making the Racine girl sick. And since arriving in intensive care, she had grown steadily worse.

"'We’re doing something to make her sicker,' the doctor told himself, noting that all they’d done was to feed her formula.

"'Let’s stop feeding her,' Mayer told the medical staff. As he said it, he realized he’d been in this situation before.

"'It’s the Nic story again.'"

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