Paul's Reality

I warned you all I might occasionally include stuff here that has nothing to do with anxiety. Although maybe it does… my little comedian here does help with stress reduction! Here are some pictures of Boo. You can click on the pictures to see a larger version.

“Oh Boy! Somebody left a drawer open! Let’s see what we have here!”

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“What is that? And how do I get to it?”

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“Enough with the flash, already…”

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“Go away, I’m trying to sleep here”

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“Oh! String!”

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“Almost there…”

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“Hmm, better be careful where I step here”

I keep repeating that phrase to myself tonight. Why, if it is just a hobby, do I feel like my heart has been ripped out? Tonight is the second leg of that special operating event for pre-1930 radio equipment, the first leg having been a week ago. Here I sit, missing it. I know if I participate I will be even more stressed out in the weeks and/or months ahead, with an even bigger backlog of QSL cards to answer. I know my decision is the right one, but tonight it does not feel good. I spent nearly a year looking forward to this. This picture sums up how I feel tonight.

This will be a fairly brief factual update as my heart is not in the writing tonight.

Tuesday I decided to email my primary care provider some thoughts and arguments on why I believe I do qualify for MaineCare to cover dentures and why I think it is more cost effective to do that than the alternative.

I wanted to check with my therapist to see if there were any late developments before doing that, so on Wednesday morning I worked up my courage and somehow defeated panic enough to try calling his office. I called five times and finally left a voice mail since it was obvious I was not going to get to talk to a live person.I never got a call back and that infuriated me even more. He constantly tells me if I need anything, just call or have someone call on my behalf. Lot of good it does! It is a small practice, just my therapist and his office manager. I have been going there for 17 years and he can’t even bother to call me back?

The stress and panic of all those calls caused my body to go into overload and shut down. I spent the next 24 hours vomiting. As a consequence I became so dehydrated as to need an ambulance and emergency medical treatment. That did not help my already high stress level. Upon returning home that day I found a letter from MaineCare informing me that they would not pay for dentures unless they received additional supporting medical information by January 6.  What? The %^#@!* dental clinic must have submitted an application when they knew the information was not complete! In so doing they started a countdown clock to denial, with holidays and everyone taking time off right in the middle. That leaves me with very little time to do anything. The more I think about it the more all this looks like they are deliberately trying to get this denied by MaineCare and force me to find another way to pay.

I spent most of Thursday night and Friday morning agonizing over the precise wording of letters to both my primary care provider and therapist. I asked my therapist for a copy of all paperwork he has submitted in this matter to date, and asked him to please consider submitting a better argument as to why dentures would improve my mental health. I presented an in depth argument of my case to my primary care provider, asked her to reconsider her position, and asked to be notified what decision she reaches. I mailed those letters on Friday and am now nervously awaiting Monday to see if either of them calls me and what the word is.

When I started this blog I said I was going to be completely honest about my life and how I deal with it. Today is the first time I have found that truly difficult. I do not want to be honest about what happened yesterday. I would rather hide from it and surely not expose my actions to the world. But I promised myself I would not hold anything back.

Living with debilitating anxiety is not easy. Sometimes it is just plain infuriating. I can barely remember when I had hopes and dreams, thought I would live a full and meaningful life. I have downsized my hopes, dreams and expectations so many times there is virtually nothing remaining. Still it is abundantly clear even that little bit is beyond reach and I am running out of things to try in effort to better myself. Being held back, limited at every turn, not living up to the potential you know deep down you had breeds anger, confusion, resentment, and a host of other evils. I have been through a particularly difficult time lately. Yesterday it all reached the boiling point.

Jessica and I went to see my therapist today. It didn’t take long to figure out the dental clinic has made a mess of the paperwork for getting dentures approved by my insurance. I’ve had nothing but trouble with and bad impressions of that place since day one. I have often wished I had made some effort to navigate the process of suing them after my first visit when they stomped all over my rights under the ADA. When I found out what a mess they are making of this I made a nasty remark about incompetence and used a four letter word derivative. Jessica disagreed about my opinion of their competence and I snapped at her. A year ago she was livid about the way they were treating me. I hate that this thought would even occur to me but it seems as if ever since she established a single, constant point of contact there (whom she now discusses all details of my case with) her opinion seems to be they can do no wrong. It’s almost as if now she puts them on a pedestal, above reproach. Whatever this person tells her she seems to regard as the absolute last, definitive word. Excuse me? Perhaps I’m a bit cynical, but since when do statements made by an employee of any business constitute the definitive word regarding matters ethical, legal, financial, or otherwise? Businesses always have an agenda: to improve their bottom line. Since I am (if somewhat reluctantly) being totally honest here, I will add this. It is no secret whenever any  medical or dental practice provides a service under MaineCare, they get paid far less than they would get if the patient paid out of pocket or it was covered by private insurance. Apparently, from what I’m told, this wonderful, seemingly idolized employee of the dental clinic has been making noises to the affect I should consider applying for Care Credit to pay for dentures in case MaineCare refuses. Well, that would surely be better for the bottom line of the dental clinic, now wouldn’t it? I have even gone so far as to wonder if they are deliberately making a mess of the MaineCare paperwork in order to force me down the other path, thereby ensuring they get more money.

Next my therapist called my primary care provider to see about getting her to sign the paperwork. All we need is a signature verifying my medical history of dental infections. It’s not like we are asking her to say she recommends that I be allowed to get dentures. No matter how my therapist tried to explain why he feels I should get dentures, she just kept saying “A lot of my patients don’t have teeth”. It is quite clear where she stands. I opened my big mouth again and suggested she should go back where she came from and stop practicing medicine here in our state.

I now realize she is not the correct primary care provider for me. At first she seemed very nice and concerned about everything I discussed with her. But during one office visit she made a point of attacking our way of doing things in this state. Here we have state run health insurance for the low income. She made a point of saying she doesn’t like this system. Where she comes from there is no such welfare system. She says there, doctors charge only what a person can afford, and if they can only afford $5 for a visit to the doctor that is what the doctor charges. I must admit her tone when she brought this up gave me pause for concern. Whether it is related or not I cannot say, but so far she has been unwilling to do much for me. She is very resistant to the idea of referring me to a surgeon to have the tumor removed from my arm. She told me it is better to just live with it. She outright refused to get involved in any way whatsoever with trying to encourage the dentist to recommend removing all my teeth, emphatically stating it would be unethical to remove any tooth that could be saved. Now she does not want to sign a form that only asks her to verify my documented medical history of dental infections. Honestly I do not see how she can refuse to sign that. It does not ask her to recommend dentures for me or implicate her involvement in that decision. It simply asks for her signature to verify part of my medical history. Her reluctance makes me more than a little angry.

I hate that I would feel this way, but in all honesty I am beginning to think she has a political and/or personal agenda here. I can’t seem to escape the feeling that she objects to our “welfare society” as she calls it and is limiting my access to health care as a means of protest against the system. Of course I can’t prove it. If I could prove such a thing I would clearly have the basis for one nice fat law suit.

By now it will be clearly evident that I am angry. Yes, I am very angry. I am angry at the system and for perceived injustices but that is just the tip of the iceberg and may be more symptom than cause. I am angry that I have fought my entire life to escape my illness, to better myself, to reduce my dependence on government support only to find that very little progress has been made. I am angry that I have been through hell these past many weeks, that I have suffered a giant leap backward in my level of comfort with club members and activities because of it, that I have fallen backward greatly in my effort to become self sufficient in obtaining building supplies for my home projects, that as a result of this constant pressure and panic situation my sleep is now constantly disturbed by nightmares. I am angry that I have lost hope, that I don’t know who I am or why I continue to struggle against the demons of my life. I confess I feel about ready to simply quit struggling and give in to defeat.

I don’t think I have ever been so angry. The phone rang not less than five times in an hour last night. Two were my brother and I ignored because if I have to talk to anyone on the dreaded phone right now I’m going to bite their head off.  The other three were some unknown hiding behind “Private Caller” and refusing to leave a message. On the fifth call I ripped the phone cord out of wall. This morning, if I had anything in the house that wouldn’t be sorely missed and/or have to be replaced, I would smash things simply as a means of outlet.

I set out today to write a few words about something I am currently wrestling with. I fear, however, those readers who have been urging me to write a book may have got their wish, as this has turned out to be rather lengthy. 🙂 I shall not blame any reader who wishes to dispense with reading this one in the interest of more fruitful or enjoyable pursuits. As committing things to writing here is, I find, helpful in my own grappling with the affairs of life, however, I  am going to publish this despite the length.

Did you ever wake up wondering who you were, what you stood for, whether you were going to remain true to your values and convictions or go down a different path? Or whether your convictions are really so damned important, so rigid they must never bend? I have. This morning! And many mornings lately. I’ve stood in front of the mirror staring at the face in there, asking “What’s happened to you?” and wishing for a reply. Preferably one that made some sense!

I may have lived a life of isolation and limitations but I have always known who I was. Even if who I was and what I stood for was not always evident to the world. I knew what I believed in, knew that I could trust myself to always follow a decent, respectable path, make sound, responsible decisions. I knew the values instilled in me as a youth would last a lifetime, providing guidance and assuring I could always respect my decisions if not always myself in general. Now I’m not so sure. I’m confused. Have I lost my way?

I’m faced with a decision. To many it might seem minor but to me it is anything but. Whatever road I take may have unforeseen and unpredictable consequences. But most of all, I’m not sure whether I will be able to look back on the choice I make now with respect and confidence that it was valid. This has been brewing for a while, but I’ve been too busy and overwhelmed to give it due consideration or realize how important of a milestone it was going to be. Now that things are slowing down, this is coming to the forefront.

Readers who have been around a while might recall back in May I made a big decision. I voluntarily gave up owning a vehicle in order to have money to fix up my old, dilapidated home. It is important to me for a number of reasons. Let us pause to examine them.

I am embarrassed by the condition of my home. I am uneasy having people come over, especially visitors from afar who may not know my circumstances or who may be well to do or at least financially comfortable and accustomed to decent surroundings. I stress over it to no small degree. While I do live a very isolated life for the most part, would be visitors from afar are not unheard of. My ham radio hobby tends to find them. Not often to be sure, but occasionally. People I have known and communicated with for years often wish to drop by for a first-time face-to-face meet. I have had visitors from Idaho, California, England, and more. Usually they have no idea about my life, my illness, my financial circumstances. I fear seeing this place may be quite a shock to them, though none have shown outward evidence of it. To be fair, the condition of my home is not the only reason I stress over having visitors. But it is on the list, and not the least of the factors involved.

I take pride in my work with the place. Surely it is not a professional job as I am inexperienced. But at the end of the day or the end of a project I always know I did my best, and I am content with that (minor exception being the project still underway with the storage area, but at least if it has flaws which should have been preventable it isn’t my actual living space). It feels good to do the work and better still to feel that sense of pride in my accomplishments.

In many ways this place is inconvenient and a source of daily aggravation due to its condition. Cleaning is a more a chore than it ought to be. Some areas are hard to clean due to rough, deteriorated surfacers. Some, owing to wear, never look clean no matter the effort expended on them. Without doubt this contributes to my lack of motivation for keeping things tidy in general. Storage space is at a premium, and some areas which ought not be used for such are crammed to the brink for want of more appropriate spaces. My disdain for this is considerable.

Let us not neglect the stupidity factor. No proper consideration of my current dilemma would be complete without mention of that. Dear faithful readers, you know what is coming here, do you not? Yes, it is that again. Though I know I can never fall in love, never marry, never have a soul mate, there remains within that undying hope, no matter how unrealistic. No matter how much I try to deny it, drive it out, run from it; no matter how much I despise and loathe it; no matter how desperately I want to be free of it, there it remains. Damn! Hope is one thing. But must it intrude upon my daily affairs? Every year I start out contemplating the repairs and improvements to be made, and every year it’s the same thing. I start out with a list of my priorities based on my current life and what has annoyed me most about the place of late. I get excited about the possibility of eliminating the worst offender, and then there it is again: that nagging voice from within, monkey wrench at the ready, asking “But which improvement would a woman most appreciate?” And of course the whole decision making process begins anew, with that consideration imposed. Is there to be no such thing as freedom from this unwanted part of self? Shall I even try deny this inner secret hope is, in fact, another driving force behind the whole home improvement thing? What would be the point? Were it absent I suspect the list of home improvements to be made would be very much shorter.

Let us now examine a quite different thing. I have too many times made mention of my hobby here. By one measure it does not belong, as this is supposed to be about the challenge of life with anxiety disorders. Yet the hobby is so inseparable from everything else that my life can in no way be described without it. I fear without the hobby I would have no unique identity at all. I frequently pause to wonder, were it not for ham radio, would I have gone insane or simply given up long ago? It is a passion quite unlike any other in my life. I love it. Were I to make a list of every thing that causes me to feel joy, every thing I look forward to with anticipation and excitement, every thing that instills a desire to rise in the morning and get on with the affairs of the day, every thing that causes me to think about remaining healthy and living long, I must believe my hobby would account for the vast majority of them. Not only that, but it exerts influence over the others, such as fixing up my home.

What of it as regards my current dilemma? Some few months prior to my opting to do without a vehicle in order to concentrate on fixing my castle, as it were, another development was taking place. Some fault with a neighbor’s furnace began causing it to emit no small measure of electromagnetic interference, which, when it is running, effectively prevents reception of radio signals on my assorted apparatus*. Whereas most of my on air radio activity is a winter occupation and this is a cold climate, one may consider this all but pulls the rug from under enjoyment of the hobby. There is nothing whatsoever I can do about this, despite Federal Communications Commission regulations intended to protect radio services from harmful interference. The neighbor in question is not at all friendly, in fact quite hostile; and I not in a position to pursue any regulatory remedy for the situation now at hand.

* I am referring here to my long distance, contesting and awards chasing activities. Operating with the antique gear is affected but to a much lesser degree owing to use of different antennas and no need to receive signals from the most severely affected directions (most of my antennas are directional)

Coincidentally, around the time of that development there was another, also a fact which I have mentioned in prior writings. That being my introduction to building antique radio apparatus, a facet of the hobby in which I had some latent interest yet unexplored. I did not expect to be so gripped, so intrigued nor so thoroughly enthralled by it. It quickly became a passion in its own right, and like other facets of this diverse hobby I found it to be most relaxing and even therapeutic. I find I can free myself of most worry some two to three hours a day merely on the hunt for antique radio parts. Many long hours, even whole days can be completely stress and worry free during the actual building of 1920s period pieces. It may rightly be said this came as a surprise. It is not as though I have not searched for other venues to alleviate worry, relax mind and body, and nourish my soul. I have tried a great many other things both within and without this hobby, to find most do not bring the full measure of desired effects. I will be damned if I did not also find, to my utter astonishment, this new endeavor so gripped me as to bring about the selling of many heretofore treasured items so as to afford this not inexpensive activity. While there have been many luxury items I desired to own before, none so spoke to my spirit or motivated me to such a drastic move. Nay, I simply did without them.

The stage having now been set by examination of factors affecting my current situation, let us get to it. Finally! This raving lunatic is getting to the point!

Now that things are slowing down as relates to work on the premises, but having as always no shortage of anxiety relating to other matters, I find myself somewhat at a loss how to deal with life. Normally, I would at this season be spending long hours at the controls of my radio setup, rejuvenating and gathering strength for the challenges ahead. Owing to the new interference problem, that is not so this year. At a season I would normally be approaching my best of the year in terms of mental balance, I am anything but. I am constantly on edge, anxious, unsettled, worried. I do not eat right nor sleep well. I went through all of my antique parts, hoping to build a project or two this winter, but there are things lacking for any conceivable project of interest. Currently, some of those wanted items are available, but at a price — a rather high one as it were, but they are scarce and desirable antiques after all.

So then arises the desirability of making a decision. There are no, or very few, more things which I would be prepared to sell in order to fund my new passion. I can either take money from the household repair fund and buy things to continue pursuing that passion, or not. On the one hand there is the voice that says I need to stick to my convictions on fixing up the house and that any use of that money for hobby purposes would be absolutely irresponsible and unconscionable. On the other is a new voice insisting to be heard, one that says don’t be a fool; life is short and uncertain, this is a true passion, live a little and enjoy it! I confess I do not know which ultimately would be the better choice. Consequences might very well arise from either choice.

Presumably the worst that will happen if I spend some household money on a hobby is it would take longer to complete work on the house. Probably six months from a purely financial perspective, but a year would ultimately be closer to the truth since most work cannot be done in all seasons here. Assuming I remain in reasonably good physical health, that in and of itself is not a big problem. There is, however, the matter of whether I will lose respect for myself or feel I have violated an essential personal value if I were to do this. Moreover, stupidity wishes to speak, asking what if I were to find a special someone and my home is still a mess? As if there were any chance at all of that! Hell! It’s almost as if there are two of me! There is me, Paul, the sensible, intelligent, realistic one. Then there is Stupidity, the moron. I hate him!

If I make the other choice (perhaps more aptly referred to as sticking to a choice already made) then I have the problem of what to do with myself for relaxation. This might be for one winter, or it might be for years. Surely I do have things to occupy time. I have much work left to do with DLS, improving my ability to function in the world and broadening my horizons. But it is very slow, and stressful. And I see I do better at it, make more progress, when I am feeling somewhat more relaxed. Of late, with very high stress and anxiety levels, progress has mostly been in a backward direction. I have physical health matters to attend to at some point, hopefully soon. I have blogging, web site revisions, a few good online friends, and participation in a wonderful support group. But still, I do not have anything in which to become totally lost and at peace, something which speaks to my soul, refreshes me, instills in me time and time again a burning desire to carry on, to fight, to improve and preserve myself. It is, of course, not at all good that I rely on a hobby to provide these things which ought to be innate.

There is, too, an inner voice asking what if I stick to what I believe is the better set of values, devote every penny to fixing my home, only to become seriously ill and unable to enjoy life during or soon thereafter? Last I checked, life did not come with any guarantees. Should I not live a little while I can?  And yet, can playing with a hobby be considered living? Or merely a waste of time, a means of fooling oneself into believing that life had some value or meant something? Who knows! I surely do not. I am, as I stated before, confused and uncertain.

If  you’ve been reading for a while you know my hobby is ham radio. It’s supposed to be the fun stuff! But even that does not escape the ravages of anxiety. In a recent post I went on a bit of a rant about how the paperwork associated with the hobby is very stressful to me. For a long time I have been slowly backing away from the aspects of the hobby I have always enjoyed most (the pursuit of various operating achievement awards and contests) due to the post-enjoyable-activity misery of paperwork.

About a year ago a friend introduced me to a facet of the hobby I was rather unaware of: the building and operating of antique ham radio equipment. The thing about it that really sparked my interest was learning there is a contest every December specifically for using this old time equipment. While the object is to make as many contacts during a specified period of time as possible (using pre-1929 type equipment), it is not the “all out 48 hour war in an attempt to be top dog even if it kills you” contest style I am accustomed to. 😉  Since learning of that, I have spent a great deal of time and money gathering parts and building a setup that qualifies as pre-1929. I was very much looking forward to making as many contacts with it as possible in the contest coming up over the next two weekends. Until today that is.

Today I learned most participants will be wanting QSL cards from me after the event! Uh-oh! So much for that. It should have been obvious to me from the outset that this would be the case. Perhaps I was blinded by ambition and having too much fun to see the obvious. I’m at least a year behind on cards despite cutting back my on air activities, and don’t wish to accumulate an even bigger backlog. Nor do I wish to alienate my new friends in this part of the hobby whom I have met through a Yahoo Group devoted to this activity. Thus I will not be participating, despite this event having been the catalyst and driving force behind my new interest.

I am more than a little saddened by this turn of fate. I’m downright bummed out! It’s not that I had any delusions of winning the contest. This one isn’t so much about winning as having fun. But I was very much looking forward to finding out what my hand full of 85 year old parts screwed to a board could do.  This was to be my opportunity to do it in a comfortable way, with short two-way exchanges of information between participants.

People do use the antique stuff outside of the contest event, “just for pure fun”, but I already found that is not for me. Outside of a competition (no matter how friendly and laid back it is still competition), these folks want to have lengthy on-the-air conversations! Horrors! Even though it is using Morse code, one of my more comfortable methods of communication, I break out in a sweat and start shaking like a leaf in a hurricane two minutes into a conversation with someone I haven’t known for years! No, that is clearly not for me.

Well, onward and wherever-ward!  (like me new word?) I enjoy hunting rare antique parts and building the old stuff, so I will be continuing to do that. I expect there will be some questions as to why I was not heard during the upcoming operating event. I have not yet come up with an answer, but I’m working on it!

After a particularly difficult time I often find it useful to step band and reflect on it. What was the difficulty about? How did it manifest? Did I manage it to the best of my ability? Has it resulted in progress? Are there any lingering after-effects? What could I have done differently? How can I better deal with it next time?

The difficulty these past many weeks has been failure to obtain needed supplies and increasingly being in a panic because of it. Without doubt I have had more anxiety and panic attacks during this period than in several years prior to it. Many times I forced myself to try to go buy supplies or order by phone. Most resulted in absolute panic and failure to complete the task. Many times I tried to ask a friend for help with similar results.

I have always had considerable difficulty obtaining materials from home improvement centers or lumber yards. Those places provide no shortage of anxiety and panic. Only on rare occasions have I successfully dealt with them and most of those I would have to list as partial successes because I came away with less than I went there for. But such places were only a problem when I tried or needed to do business there. There has been a change. Perhaps temporary, perhaps not. Only time will tell. Even though at this point I have no further immediate need for supplies I am having intense nightmares about these places every night. Panic about dealing with such places intrudes upon my daily activities out of nowhere and for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Everyone said I should ask a particular friend for help with the supplies problem. I knew it was a great idea. I believe he would have been willing to help and may have been able to help in such a way as to promote desensitization and and building of skills and confidence I could use for such dealings in the future. Sounds great, right? I tried every day for weeks to contact him and ask for help. It’s not like I had to use the phone. I could have emailed him. But absolute panic ruined every attempt. I saw that friend at a club meeting last night and immediately felt panicky. I did not feel comfortable saying hello or talking to him. That hurt. I have always been comfortable with him in the past – or at least as comfortable as it is possible to be with a male friend. I do not share many common interests with most males so conversation is always strained and somewhat difficult. But this was very different. This was outright fear and panic.

I have heretofore looked forward to each new home improvement project. I enjoyed taking pride in my work, trying to do my very best and feeling good about the result. That has changed at least for now. I should be working at this very moment. I have caught an unexpected weather break during which I could move my project along considerably. I would very much like to take advantage of this and not have to wait for Spring to continue. But each and every time I try to get to work, I feel so queasy and short of breath I end up stopping. When I do work the pride is missing. I find myself taking unnecessary shortcuts and compromising the quality of the work. Anything to get it done.

I hope these affects are temporary. Right now I feel as though I have taken a huge step backward. I do not wish to think about future projects. I have canceled all plans I had for 2012 home improvement projects and substituted something I feel I have some realistic chance of completing.

I honestly don’t see what I could have done differently. I tried everything I could think of or that was suggested by others. I worked this thing from every conceivable angle to no avail. I was completely paralyzed by anxiety and  panic, unable to help myself.

Someone or some thing has invaded my body! I’m doing things I don’t do! Just kidding. 🙂 But it has been a most extraordinary day for me.

Even before dawn it was obvious getting to that appointment today would be impossible. Any attempt in this weather would be a suicide run. Jessica had called late yesterday to tell me she had tried again to reach someone in a position of authority to render a decision on completing my application by phone (with her assistance) and/or mail, but still had not heard back from that person.

I was stressing about missing the appointment and wondering if I would be allowed to reschedule after bing a no-show.

I thought about the people from the support group who offered to make a phone call for me. There were three of them! I was blown away that people from far away who I know only through email, blogs, etc. would make such an extremely kind and generous offer.

I thought about Jessica, who had been working on this problem for two days, using her own time and resources in part.

I don’t know that I can put the feeling that followed into words exactly. It was as though a wave of something washed over me. Suddenly I felt almost like a real person, someone people cared about and were trying to help. My internal dialog is usually more thinking of myself as something, not someone. It’s the low self esteem I suppose.

The next thing I remember is being on the phone explaining to someone at the office I was supposed to be at later this morning why I could not be there. She was very kind and understanding. My appointment has been rescheduled for December 23. I’m not sure how that is going to work, as winter will be full blown here by then. It’s the Friday before Christmas and no one will be working (case manager, DLS worker). But at least for now crisis has been averted.

As I hung up the phone I noticed Boo giving me this very quizzical, puzzled look, as if to say “What are you doing?” Even the cat thinks it is most unusual for me to be using the phone! 😉

I’m pretty sure my heart rate was up around 200 about that time, and my stomach was doing back flips. But I had made the call!

A little while later Jessica called to tell me she was going to call the office and let them know I wasn’t able to come in today. I told her it was OK, that I had called and rescheduled. I don’t know if I have ever heard her sound so surprised!

I spent most of the day watching movies with Boo. It was so nice to not be in a  panic about work that needed to be done yesterday or preferably earlier! Well, to clarify, I watched movies. Boo curled up on me and went to sleep!

As of 11:30 PM Tuesday, my home is as winter-ready as it can be made this year. I worked all day Tuesday, barely stopping to cram food in my mouth a couple times. By mid afternoon it was clear I could not finish before nightfall, and the predictions now indicated a major snow storm the following day.

What do do? Drag out all the high intensity halogen work lights, of course! These really paid for themselves this time! I needed to work in several areas and knew I would spend way too much time moving lights if I used just a few, so I put every last one of them to work on this job. In all I had 6000 watts of blistering halogen lighting… three 1000 watt (dual 500 watt units on a common stand) and six 500 watt single ones. What a rat’s next of extension cords, running to three different electrical circuits so as  not to overload any of them and trip a breaker.

I am so relieved to have that behind me! This morning, just a few hours after completing that work, I awoke to the sound of a heavy plow rumbling by. The snow was accumulating quickly, wind howling. It is nearly impossible to describe how much warmer and less drafty the house is now!

I will continue to work on the inside of the storage room as conditions permit. If the weather cooperates I may even be able to pour a small concrete pad in the dungeon for the base of the new stairs to rest on.

It has been an emotional yet productive day.

The conversation I was unable to initiate for three months came up by coincidence today. In talking about the cost of dentures I mentioned that I wouldn’t be able to pay it out of pocket due to likely financial issues if I fail to make an upcoming appointment on account of bad weather. So I now have a worker trying to assist. It may be possible to complete the application via mail and telephone, or I may be able to reschedule for a later date. I don’t know yet. Meanwhile I will make every effort to be there Wednesday. I plan to start out early in the morning and will abort only if road conditions make travel impossible or obviously life threatening.

It was both a relief and a disappointment having that conversation. I had so wanted to do this completely on my own. I had something to prove – to myself if not the world. It is good that I now have help with it, but I am disappointed too.

Someone in an online support group offered to call the place and reschedule for me! This is a person hundreds of miles away who I know only through limited exchanges in a group. I have to admit that brought a tear to my eye. The kindness and compassion of some people is just amazing. Later in the day a second person said they had been thinking of making the same offer. For lack of any other words… Wow.

While petting Boo this morning I discovered his rash is spreading quickly. He will be really sick again soon if I don’t get  him back to the vet. Fortunately it is much easier for me to ask for help with Boo’s care than my own. We made an appointment for November 30. I assume this time we will go ahead will the blood work in an effort to find out what he is allergic to. It is very expensive so that will be a big hit to the budget. If this is an allergy there will be ongoing cost of vaccine. I’m not complaining! Boo is worth it! But more trips to the vet will be an added stress, and the cost will affect other areas of life.

The last-ditch effort to get supplies for winterizing bore fruit. Supplies arrived this morning but I was not able to get anything done today. I am going to try to complete the most weather critical work tomorrow. It is a two day job to do it comfortably but I don’t have two days. The storm is due to arrive tomorrow night. If I can somehow pull this off in one day I will feel a huge sense of relief. If not I will have to hope for another weather window, which is not at all certain at this time of year.