Never ending panic attack

Some people say, when things aren\t (which would be aren’t if Windows 10 wouldn’t change the keyboard to English all the time) good. That at least things can’t get worse. Things can only get better. I say that too. In real life though there seems to be no limit to how bad things can become. It seems as if there’s always a new level of bad. Yesterday I was tired, it was too warm to have a good rest during the day and I felt exhausted the entire day. It was bad, but it would get better, right? In the evening it would get cooler and after a good night's sleep it would be better. Right? Theoretically. It was a plausible theory. Real life is not theoretical and things don’t get better just because they theoretically should, or would, or could.

I have panic attacks. I’ve had them for some time, but after my first hospital visit they have become even more frequent. After the second visit they have become worse. Or have they? Can you really call it a panic attack when it never ends? I’ve had a panic attack all day today. Maybe I should call it an anxiety attack, maybe I should just call it anxiety.

It hasn’t been that warm today. A little bit cloudy and it’s been fairly windy. But I have neighbors. The neighbor on one side of my house began very early to scrape something probably to have it repainted. I don’t know what, but with my window and balcony door open and because it’s so close to my neighbor it sounded as if he was working in my room. Forget sleeping. I was still really tired, but it was too noisy. I turn on my computer (thanks to Windows 10 it’s always turned off nowadays) I start watching Law and order (started from the beginning so it’s season 1). I have no speakers connected to my computer so headphones is a must and a good thing because it blocks all unwanted noise.

Later. When the scraping has finally ended another neighbor’s kid starts playing with his football (or soccer if you prefer that term). The kids here have a favorite place to play which is to the side of my house, kicking the ball against the wall. There is no noise as annoying as a bouncing ball against your wall. Especially not when it’s kicked really hard and I guess that’s the point of the wall. Kick it when it bounces back and you might even kick it over the roof of the two story building. Naturally it bounces off my plastic roof over my balcony and lands in my garden, on my flowers. None of my neighbors care very much about that inconvenience. Either way, no sleep.

After the kid finally tires my neighbor to the other side of me (not the painter, the other one) decides to have a meal or something on their terrass. Always talking very loud and today they have a fight too making it even worse. I don’t like that family. They have always been weird. Parking their car on my parking place or blocking my garage. For a while I had to go over to them every day and ask them to move something out of the way. They don’t even say hi when we meet outside anymore. I really dislike them since they scared my cat when he was just a kitten. They cut the grass so close to him, when I went to rescue him I could feel the heat from the lawnmower blowing on my hand. My cat was terrified, shaking. I should have known they don’t care about animals. They had a harness for their pet bunny and their kid would lift it high in the air so the bunny was dangling in it. They thought that was funny and laughed. I don’t think the bunny found it funny. People who are cruel to animals, there’s no way I could like them. And I can’t really stand their voices even. So, no sleep.

I don’t know where my anxiety came from today. Maybe it was just all those random noises that sometimes would be heard over the show noise or in the intervals between episodes. Maybe it was the thought of writing this blog. Maybe it was because I noticed I was almost out of yarn for my project. I’m crocheting blankets from granny squares. Maybe it’s all the other things I need to do in my house and home, but I’m procrastinating. Maybe it was the reminder that I should probably paint my balcony too. And around the windows. I should replant some of my potted plants, they are just babies I started growing after my first trip to hospital. I really love plants, but all my old ones have died. Feels good to start over. It’s an old interest I’ve returned to. Just like the crocheting.

Anyway…

While I was watching Law and order, special victims unit, I was crocheting, procrastinating and trying to fight my anxiety I thought that one reason is probably that procrastinating I’m so good at. I thought that maybe I would feel better if I at least could write this post and have one less thing to worry about. But just having that thought made my anxiety level rise so I decided that I’ll try that tomorrow instead. Which in a way also is a form of procrastination, but to be completely honest, I think my entire life is about procrastination in one way or another. I don’t know how to fix it. Well, I do know that the answer is really “the Nike way”. The only way to not procrastinate is to “Just do it”. But I can’t.

Maybe it is part of some diagnosis or other, something I have as a symptom of something. Maybe it’s ADHD or ADD. I don’t know. And I don’t know if I have it or not. The only thing I’m sure of is that most of my procrastination isn’t exactly voluntary, my choice or my wish. I just don’t know how to just do it. Plans or schedules or deadlines only works sometimes for some things and then it’s mostly just for a while anyway. In the long run I’ll probably procrastinate everything.

I’ve filled the quota for today, over one thousand words, and this was not what I intended to write about, but anyway…

Thank you and take care!!!

Chronically ill and spoons of energy

Day three and it almost looks like my fear of failing will come true. It’s been a terrible day (and I am really upset with windows ten always putting my computer to sleep and changing my keyboard to English so it becomes impossible to type). It’s a long story and it’s complicated the same way it always was when I was playing Minecraft on the Lords of Minecraft server (does that still exist?) I’ll try to explain, but I have to start from the beginning. Hoping that Alphaville and the sweet scent of lilacs will help me through this day.

It was my first stay in the hospital, which lasted practically all of February. I had told one of the nurses or doctors that I would often forget to take my medicine. I was wondering if they knew of a way that I could get someone to help me remember. That was a bad idea. The solution they had was that some nurse would come to my home several times per day and that the medicine would be kept in a locked cupboard or safe like thing, which I would have to buy. That did not sound like a good idea to me so I told one of the nurses in hospital that it wouldn’t work and that I would not cooperate with that idea. I refused. That lead to a long discussion with the top dog doctor (whatever you’d call such a person). Eventually we agreed on a compromise, I’d go to the medic center near where I live and pick up my medicine three times a week. I was not allowed to be in charge of my own medicine, for some reason the doctor didn’t want me taking too many. I’m not allowed to die. For some reason he thought I might do something stupid.

Going to the medic center three times a week just to pick up meds doesn’t sound too difficult, does it? It’s easy. On paper it is. For anybody else than me it most likely is. To me it isn’t, but to explain that to other people has been very difficult.

The second time I was in the hospital, which was most of April, there were a lot of meetings about the state of things at home and how we could make it work with the help I’m supposed to have. I tried to explain that for the month I had been at home, that was March. It had been stressful enough to go get my medicine all the time and that the days I was “free” I really needed my rest. Why? How do you explain something so complex you don’t really know yourself. All you know is that you are exhausted from this seemingly simple task. I agreed to have a talk and make some kind of decision together with the people who decide these things. And just so you know, I’m one of the people who decides nowadays. I don’t just say yes to everything, it’s my house and my life and I know what help I want and need. Thing is though I came home from hospital this last time (please let it be the LAST time!!!) in the end of March and I have still not talked to them… so, yeah… hm…

Anyway, I found a post on Instagram, that helps me explain why it’s to tiring. It kind of explains how it is to live with a chronic disease and even if they maybe mean something other than the health problems I have it’s close enough. They said that we get a certain number of energy every day, which probably is true for all people, but for the chronically ill the number of spoons (their way of measuring the energy) they get every day is twelve. Then there were listed how many spoons you used for different things you do in a day. Getting up, getting dressed, watching TV took one spoon each. Taking a bath/shower, blowing your hair would take two spoons each. Preparing food and eating it three, going for a drive also three, going to the doctor four, going to the store was also four. I don’t remember all the examples, but the idea is to add up all the spoons you use in a day. It the number is higher than twelve then you have to take those from the next day leaving less energy for that day. You never get more than twelve though. When I add the spoons for the days I go to the medic center I always need more than twelve and I know that I am very tired the days in between.

The reason today has been such a terrible day started on Wednesday with the usual trip to get my medicine, and doing some quick shopping. In the afternoon I had to go to the hospital to meet my contact person. I didn’t get home until very late in the afternoon. And then I had to write my blog, that began again this Wednesday. Yesterday. Thursday, I had to go with my roomie to hospital so he could meet with his doctor. I drove around a bit, took some great pictures, but once again I came home very late. And then there was the writing. Today I was super tired, but I had to go get more medicine since it’s a long weekend. They don’t open until Tuesday. Besides the medicine I also needed to have some blood tests taken. One of my pills is messing up stuff I have to take a pill for the messed up stuff and they want to see if it’s working. I thought I would be able to sleep when I came home again, but I think it’s been the hottest day so far. No sleep possible, there are more cars with AC than houses in this country. Warm out means warm inside. Getting a little bit cooler now it’s almost 9 pm, but the sun is still up so….

Anyway, I’ll stop now. Thank you and take care!!!

Blogging to heal

Day two of blogging again. Day two of doing my writing public, of writing online, on the computer. It\s worse than yesterday, more anxiety than yesterday. Not because I'm afraid of writing online and such, or even fear of making it public. The problem is that I can’t write and hide at the same time. What I do all day otherwise is stream TV-shows or movies. Continuously all day and most of the night until I fall asleep. Theoretically I guess I could have something streaming while I write, but I think that would be too distracting. The resistance I feel about my writing is stronger than my will and/or need to write right now. So much time has passed since I did this every day I’m not sure I can do it. At the same time it’s not something new I’m trying for the first time and therefore find fund and exciting. I’ve done this before, I managed this blog before, but it’s as if everything that’s happened has or at least might have taken that ability away. So, there’s that and the fact that I can’t hide behind a TV-show right now. Alphaville is doing their best to keep outside disturbances to a minimum. Neighbors chatting, kids playing football (or soccer if you prefer). It’s been two lovely days, warm and sunny.

A while ago I read an article about blogging everyday and the author was of the opinion that it wasn’t such a good idea. The reason being it’s difficult to find a topic every day, it can also be difficult to find the time every day, but basically the problem was that it’s very hard to keep the same standard every day. He said it was better to just publish once a week or so. That would give time to do research, edit and work on the post before publishing. The varied quality of everyday blogging isn’t fair to the audience. It’s also possible to lose or miss out on followers because the standard of writing isn’t good enough. Everything he said was valid reasons to not blog every day. There’s a huge number of people who think blogging every day is good and even if I’m not going to mention any of their reasons they exist. I’m not the only one mad enough to try blogging every day. Reading that article I thought that maybe he’s right and what I’m doing is wrong. Today, day two of blogging again, today being the day after my first post, meaning I’m blogging everyday. I know, my writing, my sentences can be very weird and difficult. Today, though, when I am having anxiety levels that are too high because I have to keep writing, get into the routine, I can’t quit. But I wonder if every day is necessary. Necessary for me.

I’ll try to make sense of what I just wrote. I’m not deleting and starting over, I’m chasing numbers. One thousand words.

Why do I write every day? Well, the name of the blog is based on a challenge. The write one thousand words a day challenge. So that does kind of automatically lead thoughts to something done everyday. It is not easy when it’s a blog though. It’s boring if you write the same words every day over and over again. The topic of this blog has become my attempts at healing myself. Since I find the writing process helpful. My reasons may be very selfish, but maybe that can be helpful somehow, someday for someone else in a similar situation as I’m in.

I think the main reason for me to blog every day, to publish every day isn’t that it’s implied in the name of the blog. In my opinion it’s because if I do this every day and never stop, then I won't stop. One of the reasons I’m afraid of starting the blog up again is that I have stopped. Not only because the hospital visits stopped me, but also because I let other things come in between me and my blogging. The blog is supposed to help me heal, writing helps me sort things out, but I stopped when I really needed that help. I locked people out when I really needed the company. No matter what reasons I can mention to why I stopped, it’s excuses, not reasons. I didn’t just hide from panic attacks back then, I hid from the entire world. I am afraid I will let that happen again. That I’ll fail again. That’s why I’d rather watch TV than do this. And if you can imagine that this is something I love to do, but still there’s a part of me saying that maybe I shouldn’t. If it’s that difficult to do something I love, it’s no wonder it’s practically impossible doing the things I don’t even like.

I’m not good with routines. I get bored with all the things I’m supposed to do every day,with routines. So it’s not as if making it a routine makes it any easier. I might still have to force myself sometimes, but if it’s something I do every day it’s easier to do. Guess when I did my homework or studied for my tests. Last minute. Always. Maybe that’s my problem. Just realized I’ve always been living under the stress of things I need to do. Never able to relax because everything has been done. But that’s basically the things you do once and then you’re done. It’s not like household stuff that never ends, you’re never done. Have to make yourself do it. The Nike way - Just Do It!

I feel like this has been very complicated and difficult to understand. Probably because I’ve been procrastinating, have anxiety problems, TV show withdrawals and things like that. Mentioning procrastination I remember that’s something that can happen to ADHD people. There are plans of me being screened for ADHD, probably after the summer. There may be a reason I’m so good at it. Procrastination I mean. It’s not just a hobby - it’s who I am.

Made it! Thank you for visiting today! It’s summer - keep procrastinating!!!

Writing to heal

I’m going to try this again. It’s been kind of off and on this year, mostly off to be honest. Partly it’s been my fault, partly it’s been the doctors making me stay so long in hospital. Not just once, but twice. I have been writing, just not on a computer and definitely not online. Even if you have access to Internet and a charger it isn’t funny to write a thousand words on a cell phone. Add to that you have to count the words yourself. Internet access isn’t in a way guaranteed. There is a patient’s net, but that’s not in range in all parts of the hospital and naturally I was in one of those places where it was very difficult. If you didn’t have your own connection that is and since my phone had been disconnected for a year it cost me a lot to get it reopened. Open now, I have no idea how I could be without it for so long.

I have still been doing the thousand words a day challenge, in a way. The first thing I did when I had been shown around the first place I stayed at was get my hands on that pad I’d seen in one of the activity rooms, and a pencil from another room. Then I started writing and I never stop. I got so used to it I still usen pad and pencil to write.

Finding myself in that environment, where I couldn’t keep watching TV-shows all day and night I had to find something to ease my anxiety, my panic attacks. The only new medication I got was the most awful tasting liquid that works wonders if you want to sleep. It’s like a toothpaste on steroids, it’s not minty fresh, it’s minty death. But, like I said, it works. I’m almost living, and sleeping, in the right time zone. However, the anxiety, the panic attacks could still creep up on me both night and day. I found that writing about whatever was bothering me helped. My thoughts could be racing around my mind like formula one cars on a racetrack. I couldn’t catch them, stop them or do anything constructive with them. Except writing. When I wrote about whatever it was, often a lot of various things, the way I was thinking changed. Instead of just standing there with my head spinning as the cars were racing in my mind I could take control. It just happened without me doing anything but writing. I could sort out what was unimportant. Those thoughts would disappear as soon as I wrote them down. If someone had said something that disturbed me I could write about what they had said or done, how I felt and why they were wrong. I don’t know about you, but I often find the right thing to say long after the conversation is over. It helps me to write that down. Most times I don’t even need to tell that other person about it. Other times it’s like a rehearsal for a necessary conversation I’ll need to have later.

The first place I was in we were two people sharing a room that really was supposed to be a single room. We didn’t have a lot of space as you might imagine. The other girl was having a very hard time and cried a lot in the dark. I didn’t want to disturb her so I often wrote in the dark. There was just enough light to see where I had written before. It was impossible to see what I wrote. Apparently the function of the writing isn’t to sort the race cars, hmm racing thoughts, out on a piece of paper. It’s the activity itself. The writing in itself makes the difference. Instead of helplessly watching the cars/thoughts fly by I gain control. And the thinking, the thoughts themselves become different. I guess I’m so used to writing for an audience, used to trying to make sense for others that the change becomes automatic.

Standing there, not being able to control your own thoughts, having them passing by so fast you almost don’t even know what it was… it’s scary. It kind of hurts in a way. I do realize that my hospital visits, unplanned as they were, have brought up a lot of things, have forced me to think about a lot of things that I normally wouldn’t think about. It made for a lot more material for my mind to play with. Let the overthinking begin!!! Or, I’d prefer not.

Since I came home from hospital this last time I’ve drifted more and more into the TV-shows again and I’ve almost been afraid of taking the blog up again. Last time. Oh, I do hope it’s the last time. I am so done with the hospital. Funny thing though, I’ve actually missed the hospital, almost wanted to go back. It was easy there. They wake you up in the morning with the medicine, you get dressed and go have breakfast. Them you make your bed, comb your hair and brush your teeth. The you rest until lunch. Then you rest until afternoon “fika”, that is tea or coffee and cookies and cinnamon rolls. Great for a diabetic, fortunately one of the other patients took 75% of it. Then you rest until dinner. The meals were microwaved, we could choose from a few courses. Well, not me. I’m allergic to onion, paprika and cabbage or whatever you call that vegetable family. Only sad part is that the kitchen interpreted no onion and that as no salt and no seasoning at all. Either way, after dinner you rest until evening “fika” and then you get your night medication and go to bed. At 8 pm?!?!

I know that this blog has helped me before. I want to get back to doing this blog again. I guess my fear might be of failing again. I’ve tried to get back, but it hasn’t worked. I don’t want to come back just to stop again. Anyway I’ve more than one thousand words now.

Thank you for your visit. I wish you a wonderful June, warm, sunny and with lots of ice cream to keep it cool.

It should have been me

Seriously, I quit. I give up. For real. Unfortunately my doctor could see right through me so he took away my medicine. He's not letting me be in charge anymore, I'm not allowed to have medication at home in an extent that I could overdose them. I didn't tell them that there are other ways to die, because then he'd never have let me out. But there are other ways.

I can't take this anymore, I'm never getting a break, a breather, it keeps coming faster and faster, one disaster after another. After a moth in hospital, now I finally get to go home, now I could spend some time with my cat, but it's too late. She was dead when I came home. And yesterday I was in such a stupid hurry to get back to hospital I didn't really have time to check on her. Now she's dead. She died all alone because some stupid doctor had to keep me a day longer in hospital. There wasn't really any reason. Maybe my cat still would have died, but she wouldn't have had to be alone. I feel so guilty that I haven't been taking that good care of her lately.

It seems as if it doesn't matter what I do, it's always wrong. I can't even take proper care of my cat. And I should have known since last year when she ran away, that no one else would care enough about her to take care of her for me. You just can't ever trust anyone. Never, ever. But at least the people who were supposed to help me with things at home will be pleased now, it's a lot less work now that the cat is gone. It's so mean, but I am sure that's how they see it. Less job, they never see how much that cat meant to me or how terrible I feel about leaving her alone so much. And that she died alone as well. It's terrible. I was annoyed last time I was hone, because the people at the hospital took all day to arrange for me to go home over night, and then they wanted me back so early. I was just tired and upset about everything. And then my cat wasn't well either. She needed me and I let her down. I'm a worthless being. No reason for me to keep taking up space. It's easy for the doctor to say I should keep going, he doesn't have to be me. If he had to I'm sure he'd change his mind too. It's not any fun at all to be me. No point to be me. No use. There just isn't any reason at all for me to be here. Just because I'm in hell everyday, it's not like that takes the hell away from other people. If it did then there would be a point, but as it is now, there's just no point at all. I wonder what would happen if I went back to hospital saying that I'm giving it all up. I can't do this anymore.

My cat died. It's my fault. I should never have trusted anyone to take care of her. I should have let the hospital call animal shelter and let the take her. They could have helped her if she was ill too, not just leave her to die alone. I'm so stupid. I let my cat die all alone. It should have been me, not her.

SAD-bears dehibernation time

March first, it's time for SAD-bears to come out from hibernation. At least for this SAD-bear. The sun is shining, making the bright, white snow glitter. The birds are singing merrily in the tree tops again.

SAD stands for seasonal affective disorder and the way it makes me feel every winter has inspired me to compare myself more to a bear, sleeping all winter, than a monkey, or an ape, as Darwin suggested. That's why I keep calling myself a SAD-bear. I'm writing this blog post on my phone and it's not too easy keeping track of the changes auto correct makes. This is exhausting. The reason I'm writing on my phone is that I'm still in hospital. I thought I'd be home by now, but no such luck. Probably a lot my fault, but more about that later. Another problem I'm facing right now is that I have no other word counterpart than myself.

I spend about four months every year doing this impersonation of a bear bearely (hmmm) wanting to do anything other than sleep. One third of every year. It begins and enda roughly the same time every year, especially if the dark is the problem. I don't know too much about how it is to have the opposite SAD, to get depressed when it's bright and sunny, but it sure sounds awful. My problem is the dark and that means I should probably move. The further away from the equator you live the worse it gets. I live almost level with Fairbanks, Alaska, so you Americans get an idea where I live. I hope you Europeans know at least vaguely where northern Sweden is. If you live on the other side of the equator, I can't help you. I have no idea.

To feel lousy for one third of the year... it sounds insane, if you think about it like that. Moving closer to the equator, to a brighter place would probably make my problems a lot better. But it's so many other things I'd miss. During the summer the sun practically never sets. It's bright day and night. That could cause other problems, going to bed, to sleep when the sun's still up. You may not need an alarm to get up, but you could use one to remeber going to sleep. I'm not quite sure when you're day begins now, when the sun rises, but pretty soon we'll have caught up with you. This is really a wonderful time of the year. Days are getting longer, spring is coming, summer... it's all ahead of us. I love it. That's some of the reasons why I hesitate to move, at least moving the SAD-bear, if there are other reasons than the four months of dark... well, that's a different thing.

Any way, as you've probably guessed by now, one of the biggest issues with this problem is that you, or rather that I, become very tired during the darker ages, or months. Most have probably noticed that a couple of days of rain or snow, a few days without sun and you feel a lot less energetic than on the sunnier days. If you can imagine that in a greater scale then that's how it feels. Winter here is darker than a few rainy days and the SAD-bear is also more sensitive to the dark. The mood can vary some and on the sunny days you can feel better. But the wish to sleep it all away is always present. And I feel tired even on the brightest sunniest of days.

I become very antisocial. This winter I've even withdrawn from my online friends. It was as if I realized that having one thousand plus follower on Instagram or five thousand five hundred plus on Twitter meant nothing. I was still alone. Right there and then I was alone. And in a way that was how it should be. Fear of rejection, feeling worthless,  hopeless, I Came to the conclusion I was better off alone. No one can hurt you if no one's there, right? So I took some time off from all social media and from all my friends. Took some time off to think. My life did pass before my eyes the way they say it does when you're about to die, only in a slower pace. It took some time to go though it all.

The things I normally find fun is just not that appealing anymore, when I go all SAD-bear on life. Don't get me wrong, photography is still fun, nature is very beautiful even in winter, but... The hours of daylight are very few, it's easy to oversleep. Pictures in the dark can be nice too, but there's a limit to how many pictures of the dark you can post. In my opinion anyway. Photography without Instagram isn't as fun, so there you go. Besides, most of the time I feel too tired anyway. I prefer to keep sleeping.

Writing is also fun, normally. You can do that inside and the computer, or pen and pad, isn't tied to daylight. A lamp is quite good enough. But when you're tired and sleepy, concentration is difficult. SAD-bears often find it difficult to concentrate. They can often feel worthless and hopeless instead. And tired. Besides, what do you have to write about if all you do is sleep?

When I was pre writing this on a pad, yes people, I have actually put some work in for a change. But I forgot one thing that the phone has been kind enough to remind me of. (Sarkasm!!!) SAD bears are often rather irritable. And to be completely honest I've feared for my roommate's safety. So many times I've wanted to throw this stupid phone and it's stupid auto correct in the wall, probably the one over her bed. Thank God I'm nearly done. I mean... remind become reindeer... How? Why? I don't get it.

Finally and something that makes life rather difficult, arms and legs feel so heavy. It feels as if it is impossible to move them. If you can't move your legs it's very difficult to get up, go out, take a walk, and therefore it's not possible to take any nice photographs. Walking is necessary and with my bad back it's difficult enough. The addition of snow and ice makes it more difficult. Pain can also defend on weather making it worse when it's cold in winter.  Difficulty walking, slipper and uneven ground, more pain, heavy legs making them almost impossible to use. And of course, since you're always tired anyway, why not just keep sleeping?

Because the dark days are more or less behind us. Now's time for this SAD-bear to wake up.

Hope you're having lovely spring weather too. Just don't slip on ice. Take care!!!

Hospitals and Internet

Do you have a modem? A router? Do you have a cat? Does your cat think it's cosy to sleep on your modem/router? Mine does. Does your modem or router disagree on the cosyness of said so much that it prefers to die? Mine does. I've now lost one of each to my cat's sleeping habit. This time I still have a valid warranty though, so I should be able to get a new one. If only I had a way of connecting with my Internet provider. My phone is still off line and I'm not well so I can't go down town. Yesterday, when my social services person accompanied me to town we only had time to go to the bank. Can't pay bills without Internet. Can't pay bills without a login thingy either. I was just thinking about ordering a new one when the router gave up on me. In a way that was a good thing. At the bank my assistant managed to get me one for free. Anything you get for free is great. Especially when you're broke, like me.

What happens after that? For how long can you be too ill to get Internet up and running again? That depends on what happened then… I ended up in hospital and I wasn’t allowed to go out to fix these things. To begin with I had no charger with me so my phone quickly ran out of power. When I got hold of a charger and got back being one of the power-full phones I had to move to a different ward and their WiFi was the worst ever. Not only was it awfully slow, it was such a weak signal it would go on and off, most of the time it was out of range. It was practically impossible just to like pics on Instagram. At least I got a chance to tell people I still was alive. Twitter though, my phone has a very strange way of dealing with Twitter, most people I wanted to message didn’t have an account anymore, which made me very sad because I really missed talking to them. Turns out that was just my phone version of Twitter being too lazy to look for them. They are still there.

Eventually someone agreed to take me to town to sort things out, hopefully once and for all, so right now all my accounts are open. It’s so amazing to have a working phone again. My rehabilitation coordinator was so glad when I called her. Finally people can reach me again. Unless they have forgotten all about me during the time I’ve been phoneless.

Anyways, this isn’t a regular blog post. I’m only at home over the weekend. There’s apparently a new wave of influenza hitting the hospital right now and until they have figured this out they wanted as many patients as possible to go home unless they have to stay because of their treatment and stuff, which I don’t. I got loads of medication in tiny paper bags and tubes. My diabetes is perfect right now, perfect levels of blood sugar, I had high blood pressure, but that’s down too and there’s an amazing drug that tastes like super duper, heavy duty minty toothpaste, but I sleep like a kitten. I would say baby, but most babies I’ve met aren’t really sleeping as much as you’d think and they have been very fussy and crying. Kind of more like I was before. Kittens sleep a lot do, as does older cats, more sleepy time than awakey time, though I am actually up at day now, feeling very grown up and responsible.

I do, however, plan to reopen my blog later and I have a lot to say. I might even try to write a book, though that’s a very big undertaking, especially for someone who’s afraid of failing and who knows she’s never good enough. I have been writing very much during my two week long stay at the hospital and, even if I might not be able to write a complete book, at least I’ve got a lot to write about for my blog and it fits perfectly. Because, as you probably know, hospitals are all about healing. When I go back, though I can bring my own charger and I have my own mobile Internet, it’s difficult to write on my phone. I guess I could bring my laptop, but I don’t have Internet on that one and no word program. So I guess I won’t do that. I’ll try to keep up with Instagram and Twitter, write on a pad with a pen and be back with the real deal on March first, when I hopefully am home for good. I like the idea of starting over on the first day of a new month. Easier to keep track on how long I’ve been going with this challenge. Right now I just wanted you to know what’s going on and why I disappeared so suddenly again. At least so you know that I am okay and I will be back. I am going back to hospital on Tuesday to talk to my doctor and try to figure out what they can do for me. There’s talk of more medication and such, but nothing has been decided yet. I’ll tell you all about it when it has been. Has been decided, that is.

I wasn’t really aiming for a thousand words this time, but I’m using Google Docs which has a word counter so obviously I still check in on it. Just for fun. I am getting really close now, so I guess I’ll just add a few words more to make the magic number. Even though I didn’t really try, old habits die hard (not just Bruce Willis apparently) and I’m still trying. If I count all I’ve written by hand today already I’m definitely beyond one thousand words.

Take care people, for most of us spring is on the way and things are looking brighter every day. Thanks for reading!!!