After hearing this phrase once, I adopted it. It's an axiom. Once one is given the chance to look back and view the facts as they are, one's perspective tends to change completely.
I built up the call to my father as one of the most traumatic things to happen to me in recent months. This was going to be another one of those blowouts, and I was so fearful of calling that I ran to GitP to ask for advice on how to accomplish the deed. I even took certain events, or lack thereof, as signs that things were as bad as I imagined them. I mean, Dad has been sending me $50 each month for my prescription co-pays. That money was always set aside, waiting for each doctor's visit so I could pay for whatever the doctor tells me to get. When that money didn't arrive this month, I figured it into the drama that had unfolded with my brother, as well as imagining that my father was "punishing" me for having fought with him last month.
No...Dad didn't send it because of a chronic problem that he has with his legs. Although he is not a diabetic, he develops sores on his legs, and they get infected easily. This requires powerful antibiotics, and his insurance doesn't cover a large part of the cost. It's hard to believe that ONE medication would cost $1,500...but it does. So Dad wasn't able to help me out this month, leaving me in a position, once again, where I'm crying out for just a little more help to see my through until the 3rd of Sept.
The new that I wouldn't be moving to TN didn't seem to be a surprise to my father in any way. Yes, he was disappointed, but I have a sense that he knew it wasn't going to happen. He may not be able to understand me and my illnesses, but he does have some insight into his sons. My thought now is that my father knew Stu or I was going to screw this whole thing up.
If I turned out to be the guilty party, my father would chalk it up to my being emotionally frail, and that one outburst or another would have offended Stu so much that my brother would declare the move a bad idea. He would make excuses as to why his son shouldn't be exposed to someone who's mentally ill, and that would be that.
If Stu screwed it up, as he did, it would be because Stu is emotionally detached from the world around him, and that some part of him never grew up. Thus, word that Stu threw a fit when I tried to discuss my rent was no shock. If anything, while talking to my step-mom, she was surprised that Stu had been increasing the fees that I would have to pay to live under my brother's roof. It would seem that everyone, with the exception of Stu and Nikki, was more than satisfied with $350 as the price of my rent. It would, and should, have covered all expenses I might have generated, and then some. But I think Stu saw an opportunity to maybe squeeze some extra from me so there could be more "toys" in the house, and that wasn't going to work at all for a man who is on a fixed income.
And so I now move forward with my plans to move in with Siege. I have been locked into a plan of complete inaction until I was able to see how things would pan out with my familial relations. In just over 30 days, I'm out of here, and that means it's time to start busting my butt to get my place packed up and ready to go. It's not going to be easy. Speed, Strength, and Agility haven't been my friends for years now. Alas, there's work to be done, so don't be shocked if there are periods where I say very little anywhere at all, since I may either be working hard to get myself ready to go, or recovering from getting myself ready to go.
In other news, the biopsy results are in. A one-time diagnosis is not something I can give out in its medical terminology, but suffice to say that the two bumps were very un-mole-like moles, and can, indeed, become very painful. As expected, they are benign. It would also appear that Dr. M, while not removing all of the sites, removed a majority of them, allowing them to heal without being as painful as they were prior to the biopsies. The holes now in my upper arm are a still a bit sore, but nowhere near so painful that I'm crying myself to sleep at night. I can even go to sleep while lying on them, with only the smallest note in my mind that they are bothersome, but so very far from tear-inspiring.
There is one aspect that's bothering me to some extent, and that's my ability to respond to people on GitP. Be it a private message or on the Depression Thread, I find that by the time I'm on the site and reading what's in front of me, I am so tired that I can't write what I deem a reasonable response. The exhaustion was coming from the stress of the phone call I was imagining would be a new-found nightmare. Today, I find myself exhausted by the fact that I am recovering from my unwarranted worries. As I move forward with my plans to move in with Siege, I fear future exhaustion will come from me exerting myself in ways that I haven't done in years. These stresses aren't imagined. My blood pressure exemplified what's going on in my head, at 144 over 88. (A little high, but certainly nothing worth panicking over.) The stress of this month has also caused a surprise weight gain; I haven't been eating any more or less, and have been no more or less active...yet I weighed in today at 197.4 lbs.
So...if it seems that I'm slipping away from my friends...that I'm ignoring anyone, or it appears that I'm uncaring, that is NOT the case. It's time for me to shove aside the stress, get my tuchas in gear, and be ready to vacate this nightmare apartment complex come the end of next month. Try to stay tuned here, my friends, as this will be the first place I come to announce anything of grand importance. Oh, I'll try to stay on top of things at GitP, but I can't make a promise like that...not when I have so much that needs to be accomplished in what now seems to be a very short time.