Trying to pick up the pieces

It’s an Eminem kinda day.  I just want to cuss and find all the good words for lady parts and just shout them out an open window.

A relapse to me seems like the end of the world sometimes.  You just have to fight whether you want to or not.  Most of the time you aren’t going to win.

I could never describe what a relapse was like before.  How it happens.  Why it happens.

Then Eminem did this skit, and it described it perfectly:


The outpouring of love and support from all of you was amazing and I couldn’t possibly find the time to answer every single one. but I thank you one and all.  Friends I didn’t know even followed me, people I have never heard from before. and even some real life friends.  For that, I thank you once again for your love an support.

Today didn’t really go as I would have liked.  I had visions of kicking doors in and ,making demands and none of that shit happened.  I suppose Librium is decent stuff but in my case it apparent’ly isn’t worth a fuck.  Of course, nobody listens to me about my tolerance for Benzo’s, so it doesn’t matter anyway.

I told the doc the other day that I wrote a complete and coherent blog post on 15MG of Valium.

She laughed at me because she thought I was kidding.

I wasn’t and most of you read the damn post.

What actually happened was that I made it to the director’s office only to find that she was out . . . .

for a few days.

So I left my info with her secretary/assistant whatever she is and went on my way.

I went back to the Patient Care Annex to see if I could get a walk in appointment to have someone look at my back. Which they did, by sending me back to the main hospital to get x-rayed.

X-rays done, I head out to look for the lab and I get a phone call . . . . from HR.

So apparently they are REEEEEEEALY pissed that I went to the director to bitch about them.  We went back and forth on the phone, in circles.  Getting nowhere.  With her telling me that they decide who gets hired and me asking her who over there is qualified to decide who is qualified.  And me, YES ME, who can cuss with the best of them had maintained himself the whole time actually used the word “DAMN”.

‘”Sir, can we please do this without cussing?”


So after approximately 30 minutes of beating the living fuck out of a dead horse, she finally agreed to “look into this and see what is going on” and that she would call me back later.

If that happens just by going to the Directors office, I can’t wait to see what happens when Congress gets there.

I scheduled an appointment for some labs in the morning and I’ll also go in and see my doc to see what is us up with my back.

For tonight, I’m back in my hotel room, taking my Tylenol and just trying to figure out what to do next.

I offered my life for my country, why can’t I get the same level of dedication?


From a man who suffered the same afflictions I do, and who loved his veterans the same way I do.  May you rest in peace, Robin.


6 thoughts on “Trying to pick up the pieces

  1. Thanks for letting us know what’s going on. I’m glad you now realize just how many of us there are who care about you. I’m thinking of you often and will be checking for updates regularly. Sounds like you got the HR woman’s attention at the very least. Maybe she’ll actually get off her ass and help you so that she doesn’t have to deal with you anymore–squeaky wheel that you are. 😉

    Maybe ibuprofen or naproxen (Aleve) instead of or in addition to Tylenol will help calm down your back.

  2. Ughh, doctors that don’t understand benzo tolerance are the worst!! It’s like, they can take a .5mg klonopin and be out of their minds so that means everyone else in the universe is the same way. Nonsense.

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