Sometimes I avoid the phone calls from collectors – they gotta know that caller ID hinders their ability to talk to a real person.  Rarely I answer the calls and basically ask them how to get blood out of a stone.

Sometimes it works out for the better – like my Discover card;  I’ve got a payment plan worked out with their collections department which is a smaller amount than the original monthly bill.  Sometimes, when I do answer the phone, by the time I’m done talking I want to scream.

I know I’m to blame for some of this.  I’ve not been notorious for keeping a beautiful checkbook register… or even keeping a messy checkbook register.  I’m very guilty of relying on my no-where-close-to-perfect checkbook register in my head only, and checking my online banking only once in a while.  Honestly, I used to be pretty good at this game… I rarely had trouble keeping things in the black.  Of course, there used to be a little more money in the account to play with… not oodles, mind you, but enough that a minor miscalculation wouldn’t of pushed me over the edge into the red.

Here recently, I’ve bounced some checks.  Only one was bounced knowingly, sadly.  Most happened because my ‘perfect recall’ of my balance (which is never ‘perfect’, mind you) is less than what is really in the bank – my mind has yet to make the adjustment for the lesser amount of money being deposited, I’ve decided.  Whether or not that is true doesn’t matter to me.

Why did I allow myself to go through this mess for several months before finally breaking out a brand new check register, literally just yesterday, and recommit myself to doing banking the old fashion way… that has worked for most people for eons now.

I’m making sure to collect my receipts from my debit card, and transferring them into my register.  Okay, okay… I’ve only done it once.  But, I’ve only used my debit card once since I’ve turned over this new leaf.

I’m ready to start taking charge of my financial life again.  I’m ready to make sure I know where I’m at every moment of every day with my money.  I’m ready to see the scary numbers dwindle downward, and wait (hopefully somewhat patiently) to see the numbers go up again.

I’m ready to have my phone stop ringing, and not because its been disconnected.

It’ll take a little time to get completely caught up.  Hopefully with my tax return, which is not very big at all, I’ll be able to turn the corner.

If not, I’ll keep chugging away at it.  Its not like the amount of money that is owed just disappears, yanno.  Sadly.

I already knew I was going to be late for work approximately a half hour before I needed to be there.  I hadn’t even made it into the shower yet.  So, I hurry my tush into the shower, get out and get dressed.

After hurrying to put on my shoes and socks, I say my goodbyes to Tom and walk out the front door…  to realize my car has a flat tire.

Niiiiice.

So, I walk back inside and tell Tom I’ve not got time to mess with my flat tire, and I’m going to take the van.  I walk back outside, get in the van, go to turn it on and…. nothing.  The battery is dead.  Again.

Superb.

Paul moves my car slowly over to in front of the van to jump start it, which it does with no issue.  I check over everything in the van and see that I’m nearly out of gas.

Really?

After talking to Tom about moving limited monies from one bank account to another, I drive the van to the nearest gas station, turn off the van and proceed to put every penny I can spare into the gas guzzler.  I get back into the van, call Tom to discuss whether or not to come back to the house and get the bad tire.  I turn the key… and its dead, again, already.

Honestly?

I tell Tom I’ll call him back, get out of the van, get the jumper cables out of the back of the van, pop the hood and look pitifully at the man filling his tank next to me.  He nods understandingly and, after he’s done pumping his gas, jump starts the van.

Thank God.

Once the van is started, it is decided that I should come back to the house and get the stupid tire because I know the shop I use will have to order one in anyhow.  I get home, leave the van RUNNING, and ask Paul to take the tire off the car.

Okay.

Except that I have a gravel drive way.  The foot of snow has finally melted making everything in my neighborhood the largest mud pie on the face of the Earth.  The jack sinks a smidge into the muck, but we’re able to get the car raised up enough to finagle the tire off the car – which, mind you, had no desire to come off the car.  I can see my car ever so gracefully sliding backwards.  As if in slow motion, the car sliiiiiides off the jack, allowing my car to come to rest on the driveway with a low thud.

Seriously?

Thankfully the car slid slowly, and the muck under the car allowed a nice cushioning for the frame.  We (by we, of course, I mean Paul) jack back up the car a little bit and slowly release it onto a 4×4 scrap piece of wood.

After inspecting the tire, which I was hoping only need a plug, it was immediately decided that the tire was not fixable.  This was made obvious by the lack of tread on the inner side of the tire.

Of course.

Finally, I take the (still running) van to the tire shop my dad told me to use years and years ago.  I drop the tire off, knowing the new one won’t be in until noon tomorrow.  I stop by my mom’s to pick up a check (because she loves me) to pay for a new tire because I am super duper broke.  I leave the van running while I go inside.

(Thank goodness for my mother, is all I have to say!)

Finally, 2 hours after I started out my door, I head in to work.  Aaaah.  Strange that I’m thankful to be at work, yes?  But, I am.

Work = money.

Money = need.

And, although my day sucked, it could of been so much worse.  This I know for fact.

I could of been on the highway before I realized my tire was flat.  I could of not been able to find anyone willing to jump start the van.  The driveway could of been dry, causing a hard landing for my car – and Paul was no where close to my car when it slid off the jack.

So, strangely, I’m thankful.

But, at the same time, I’m super irked.

Make sense to you?

There are my knitting needles.  I only have the know how to make a scarf.  Which, I don’t mind doing.  Yet, eh, how many scarves can one person make before they’re just over it.  And, lets not forget that yarn cost money.  Out of yarn + no money = no knitting.

I have a sewing machine.  I’m not fluent in sewing, by any means.  I have some patterns that I’d love to figure out.  But, again, these projects require money.  Blah.  No fabric, no thread… money money.

I have my camera, which I love.  But, its winter time.  And, honestly, how many pictures can I take of my cats and dog before I go crazy?  I’m pretty sure I’m over the whole camera aspect of my life until the weather turns nicer.

What else… what else…

Reading.  I love to read.  I’ve gone through the books at my house.  I know I should head to the library, but I hardly ever think about getting there.  And then I’m paranoid about returning the stupid things on time… I need to just get over that aspect of it.

I know I have more ‘hobbies’, but I can’t really think of any more this moment.

Anyhow – I need a new hobby.  Something entrancing.  Something to be excited about.  Something to do…

What’s your hobby?

Although Georgia appears to be recognizing her name better, I’m still not seeing the recognition I was expecting – turning her head, perking her ears.  Perhaps this will come with time, although I guess it doesn’t matter as long as she’s following her commands.

We’ve mastered ’sit’ from everyone who asks her.  Somewhere she’s learned ’stay’ as long as you point at her and make sure she’s given you eye contact.  ‘Stay’ works best when going in and outside.  If you’re commanding Georgia to stay in one room while you go to another, she really wants to follow you.

She follows ‘up’ when Tom says it most of the time.  She’ll even get ‘up’ on the edge of Tom’s bed with her front feet so Tom can give her some better one on one attention.

Georgia will lay ‘down’, and I can put a treat on her foot – telling her to ‘leave it’.  Rarely does she go after it until I say ‘get it’.  If she does, I just have to give her a little ‘eh eh’, and act like I’m going to block the treat with my hand.  She’ll normally leave it alone after that.  I don’t know if she truly understands ‘get it’ with the treat, or if I’ve just ended whatever game I’m playing with her… but I guess if it works, it works.  If I put the treat further away, she’s not nearly as apt to ‘get it’, although she keeps eye contact with the treat the whole time.

We’re still working on ’sit’ from a ‘down’ position, but we’ll be there soon.

She’s still not certain about ‘get it’ but seems to achieve it better with the new rope toy we bought her.  If she chooses not to take the rope toy, I can finagle it into her mouth without too much struggle.  ‘Get it’ with any other item still requires me opening her mouth and making her take the item.  ‘Release’ is no struggle with the rope toy or most anything in her mouth, except a ball.  She’ll give me the ball, but I have to get a good hold on it before she releases it.

I need to work her on the leash more… I’ve been putting it off, blaming the cool weather.  Of course, I’ll go out several times to smoke a cigarette.  I should leash her and go out front for a while.  We’ve gotten a couple different types of collars to work with, since she was accidentally slipping out of her purple one.  I’m sure one of these will be perfect.

Anyhow, Georgia is doing amazing.  Realizing that she’s only been in our home for a month is baffling.  She’s so smart.

I have confidence that, with the help of Patty of course, she’ll be exactly what Tom has been needing to gain more independence!

This was frustrating on several levels.  One being that the ceiling fan was fairly new.  Secondly, the fan is remote controlled.

Remote controls = easier life for Tom and Sheila.

With the remote, Tom can turn the fan on and off throughout the time he’s in bed and regulate his own temperature level.  Mucho easier than having to make Sheila get up several times through the night to adjust the fan levels.

Anyhow – at first we thought maybe just the battery in the remote had died.  So, I went to the grocery store to buy a battery.  But, of course its some crazy type of battery that not just any grocery store would carry… So, I have to stop by another store to find the flipping battery.  Go figure, when I get home and install the new battery, that doesn’t fix the fan.

No.  That would of been waaaay to easy.

So, we sit back and stare at the fan.  I google the fan to see if it has any known issues, with no real luck.  We contemplate the next step.

And we think, and we think… we don’t have the money to replace the fan.  We don’t have the funds to buy any replacement parts.  We don’t even know what to look at to see if it needs to be replaced.

Finally, Tom and I ask TNR to check out the fan and see if he notices any issues with it.  He looks it up and down, without taking it apart, and doesn’t see anything noticeably wrong with it.

He stares at it, and stares at it.  Tom stares.  I stare.

TNR walks over to the wall, and flips the light switch to the ‘on’ position.

Uhm.

Yeah.

Amazingly, the fan works now.  Someone had turned the switch off.  I don’t know who did it… since the fan is worked by remote, we never flip the switch anymore.

Go figure, huh?  We all felt incredibly stupid to the fact that none of us thought to check the switch sooner.

But, at least it was a cheap fix!

See, I’m at the point where things started happening too quickly to remember which came first.

(Which makes me ask, “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”  Why, you ask?  I have no idea.)

I could stumble through.  Most people wouldn’t know the difference.

But I would know.  I would realize that something happened between ‘this moment’ and ‘that moment’.  And, that bothers me.

I don’t know why.

I sit and stare at the document opened up on my computer screen, and try to write down the words.  But, then I press the backspace until I’m back to where I started.

It kind of drives me crazy.

I realize I don’t have to put it all down in order immediately.  I could go back and edit it later, shoving the right pieces in the right spots.

But, I don’t.

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

I close out the document.

I consider working on it again another day…

And I don’t get any further.

Alas, I have less than no money.  If being in the red is seen as a negative balance, and being in the black means you have money to spend, I’m sooo far in the red that I’m the prettiest baby pink color you’ve ever seen.

Tom had to go back to Best Buy today to return a purchase that didn’t work out the way he had anticipated.  He strongly urged me to stay away from the cameras so I would not leave the store in a mild depression.

But, I could not stay away.  I had to touch it.  I had to caress it.  I had to whisper sweet nothings into its memory card slot.  I tenderly and lovingly played with its settings.  Aah, its like we’re two peas in a pod, this Nikon D90 and I.  It fits my hand like a glove… better yet, it is an extension of my arm!

Tom suggested that I give the other cameras on the display a little loving, also.  How rude would it be to leave them completely untouched?!  So, I picked up each one gently and tried to communicate with them like I talk to the D90.  Sadly, they had no where close to the same feel, or sensation in my hands.  Its like they tried to communicate with me, but I could not hear what they had to say… like an angsty teenager trying to make a point to their parents.

I had to go back to the D90.  It suites me.  I suite it.  We are a magical pair.  We are destined to be together.  One day… one day in the distant distant future… perhaps the day before Armageddon, I hope to own this camera.  And I promise to get some kick butt shots of the end of the world when it happens.

That being said, I don’t believe I’ll go into the ’step by step’ regarding bowel issues with a SCI.  I’ll just say that there is a routine involving a suppository that must be kept in order to avoid accidents.

The process that Tom and I go through has been nicknamed ‘Red Circle Night’ because I mark the scheduled days on the calendar with a red circle.  We also call it ‘Program’.

The act of ‘Red Circle Night’ is not enjoyable for Tom in any way.  He hates it.  With all of his being.  Actually, I don’t like it either.

I recall when Tom was in rehab down in Columbia, when the need came about for me to learn how to manage Tom’s program, I literally cried.  I was so upset that I was going to have to take on this task, knowing that Tom’s (and my) dignity was going to have to be set aside during these time periods.

Tom’s program lasts two hours on the nights we have it scheduled.  Its not a hands on process throughout those two hours.  Its a lot of timed intervals, watching the clock, and waiting.

We’ve just decided to change our previous schedule.  We used to do this process every third night.  Now we’ve decided to give a set schedule of Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday a whirl and see how it works out.

Not that you’re super interested, but I’ll keep you posted.

I feel that if these two functions could be returned to those with a SCI, their quality of life would increase dramatically.

Without going into too many details, for Tom’s privacy, I will say that these two functions basically control his life.

Lets touch on bladder issues today. (Not that we’ve had any major bladder issues recently, mind you.)

We’ve been through multiple catheter issues, some that actually involve having to make a trip to the ER.  I don’t blame those in the medical community for thinking that we’re crazy when we call an ambulance if Tom’s catheter isn’t working correctly.  Very few people realize that, although the catheter issue itself isn’t life threatening, the reactions that Tom’s body has to the catheter not functioning could be very harmful.

Autonomic Dysreflexia, or AD, is something that most quadriplegics hope they never encounter.  The quick and simple analogy I use to explain AD is something like this:

Ya know when ya stub your toe, and it hurts?  When stubbing your toe, a signal goes up your leg, through the spinal cord, to your brain.  Your brain says, ‘way to go, slick, and cuz you’re stupid enough to stub your toe, I’m gunna send this signal back down there to make you realize you’re an idiot’.  When the signal goes back down to your toe, it quickly stops off at the heart and tells it to pump harder to get blood down to the stubbed toe – cuz as far as it knows, the toe has been cut off and it needs to heal pronto.  The signal finishes its trip down to the toe and you holler out in pain.  The blood makes it down to the toe, realizes it doesn’t really need to get there so quickly, and slows back down to normal.

Tom’s spinal cord is damaged, remember?  So, if Tom stubs his toe, the message makes it to his brain, but the message is in German and Tom’s brain doesn’t understand German.  Tom’s brain kinda freaks out.  It knows from the urgency of the German speak that there is a problem, but the brain isn’t quite sure where its at… or how bad it is.  So, the brain sends out messages to several areas below Tom’s injury level, hoping that it finds the spot that the German toe was trying to address.  The signal stops at the heart also, and tells the heart to get beating cuz there’s a problem somewhere.  Heart rate goes up.  Blood pressure goes up.  As soon as the signal finally gets to the toe, the brain reacts and slows down the heart again – since the toe isn’t missing or anything. Problem eventually solved.

Now, imagine your full bladder. You know, the one where you dance around until you get to the bathroom? Now, imagine the line to the bathroom is soooo long that you’re just not gunna be able to make it there. But, there is no other option available to relieve yourself. You’re miserable, right? If you hold it in too long, your blood pressure will actually rise because its trying to clue your body in, telling it that there’s a biiiig problem and you need to fix it now.

If Tom’s biiiiig problem doesn’t get fixed promptly, his blood pressure rises too. But, Tom’s blood pressure doesn’t have the same ‘mellow out’ switch that our bodies have – its been damaged from the SCI. Until whatever the situation is that made Tom’s blood pressure rise is resolved, his BP can continue to rise.

It is plausible to have a heart attack or stroke from high blood pressure.

Do you see the crazy issue here?

If Tom’s catheter is messed up so badly that we have to go to the ER, we are going because the situation needs to be resolved as quickly as possible so Tom’s blood pressure doesn’t start shooting through the roof, putting him at risk for a stroke or heart attack. All this could happen just because he couldn’t tinkle… strange, huh?

Tomorrow – we’ll attempt a socially acceptable post regarding bowels…