DH talks in his sleep again

DH had another one of those nights last night, sometimes I really wonder what he's dreaming about!

DH:  Carol.

Me:  Yeah?

DH:  If we ever have another daughter, I want to name her Cookies.

DH:  I really like Cookies!

DH:  (10 minutes later) Carol.

Me:  Yeah?

DH:  Do you think anybody will notice the burn marks?

Me:  What burn marks?

DH:  on Cookies.

Me:  Oh no, that's terrible, what happened?

DH:  We left her on the stove.

Me:  Oh no!  Nobody likes burnt cookies!

DH:  And to think she started out as a sack of flour.


(10 minutes later)

DH:  Carol, do you think people think it's strange that I bathe with a duck?

Me:  Well, a lot of people might think that was strange.

DH:  Oh.  Because there's nothing funny going on, we just take a bath together.

DH:  I always wanted a duck, I think I'll name him Quack.

Me:  You're talking in your sleep again.

DH:  I AM NOT!!!!

Me:  Oh.  Sorry.

(it was right about this time that Elmo meow meandered up to DH and gave him a smooch)

DH:  I think I just kissed a duck.

Me:  You probably shouldn't tell people that.

DH:  Why?

Me:  Because some people might not understand.

DH:  I said nothing's going on, Quack just waits for me in the tub.

(DH, after he woke up, clarified that Quack was a RUBBER duck, but in our conversation, that was never mentioned.)

DH:  There's that man in the dress again.

Me:  Was that one of the dresses you made?  (remember the previous sleep talking episode)

DH:  I didn't know I could sew.

Update

Well, I did end up going in, got some antibiotics, because according to the doctor, "eighty percent of cat bite and scratch wounds become infected"....so it was a good thing I took your advice about going in.  I hated to spend the money, but yes, it was better and smarter to do that than to end up with a $15,000 hospital bill and a bunch of missed work, etc....

The kitty?  Still living in the chicken house.  I'm her (his?) new best friend.  When she(?) sees me coming, she runs up to me like a puppy!  Then she purrs and prances all over and I scratch her ears.  I think she has ear mites, as she has sores behind each of her ears, but I'm currently not confident enough of our friendship to try to do something about that....I know the flea medicine "Revolution" will also cure ear mites, and I actually have some, but you have to apply it to the skin under the fur, and I'm thinking my new friend probably won't like that, so it'll have to wait until I can live-trap her and get her into the vet.  Hopefully that'll be in the next few weeks, as I don't want any "bonus" kitties.  Unfortunately, our furnace is not currently in working condition, so it probably won't happen next payday (we usually burn wood only until the beginning of December anyhow, but when it starts to get really really cold, we need the furnace so that the pipes don't freeze/burst).

Anyhow, DH has decided to name the kitty "Lester".  He doesn't care if "Lester" is a boy or girl, he's always wanted a black cat named "Lester", so there you go.  So as far as black cats in the house go, we'll have Twilight (age 5), Elmo (age 6) and Lester (age unknown, but I suspect around 6 months).  I'm still hoping that someone will call me up and say "I've been looking for a little cat, not a kitten, but just a real nice cat...." and I could tell them about Lester and.....I know, I know....odds are not in favor of that happening!  But I can think about that anyhow....

Big mistake at the kitty house

I had gotten home from work (at the group home) yesterday morning and gone straight to bed.  DH was already up and smoking outside.  Suddenly he woke me up: "Carol, there's a black cat in the yard!"  Since we have two black cats, and none of our cats ever go outside, he was worried.  But.....one black cat was sleeping with me, and the other one was in the kitchen eating cat food.  So....apparently it was yet another "drop off", as my two closest neighbors hate cats.

I went outside to see it, and I meowed at it....kitty meowed back.  I was satisfied that it wasn't one of ours, so I told DH that I hoped it would go on its way, because we sure didn't need any more cats, and black cats are harder to find homes for than any other color of kitty.  I went back to bed.

When I woke up, I went outside to feed the chickens.  Surprisingly (or not), there was a new chicken, a black one with a long tail.  Kitty had apparently decided he/she was going to live in the chicken house :-(

As I put the food and water out for the chickens, and gathered the few eggs (chickens don't lay much in the late fall/winter unless supplemental light is provided), Kitty ran out of the chicken house to see if maybe there was cat food involved.  Nope.  But the water tasted good.  Kitty was eyeing the chicken feed with interest, when I meowed at Kitty.  Kitty meowed back and came over to smell my hand, turned around and walked a few feet out of my reach.

This was repeated several times until, when Kitty turned to walk away, I was able to stroke his/her back.  Suddenly kitty was purring, rubbing up to my legs, just the sweetest kitty ever  :-)

I finished up with the chickens and (still kind of hoping that kitty would go away, so I didn't offer cat food) went about my day.  At the end of the day, Kitty was still inside the chicken house, so I started to feel like I needed to offer some food.  I put some "crunchies" on a paper plate and he/she feasted.  Once again, we had a kitty love fest, with kitty purring, prancing, rubbing up on my legs.....what a sweetie!

DH thought that we should bring Kitty into our porch, which is heated, until I could get the money together to get a Feline Leukemia test and a spay/neuter surgery (if a disease-free yet unneutered cat were to come into our house (where everyone is neutered), the hormones(?) would cause the other cats to be stressed out and, sometimes quite crabby).  So the best I/we could offer at the time was the porch.  But that would be better than the chicken house, plus I was a little worried that Kitty might consider a chicken dinner.....

Anyhow, I went back out there, and Kitty was (of course) in the chicken house.  We began the petting/purring kitty ritual, and once again I thought, "What a sweetie!".  Then I picked him/her up.

The purring continued.  I scratched behind the ears, the purring got louder.  Then suddenly Kitty looked at me and realized he/she was BEING HELD BY A HUMAN.  Big problem.  Kitty spazzed out.  Kitty grabbed onto the top of my head with all of his/her claws and dug in.  Then, as I tried to stay calm, kitty embedded his/her teeth in my scalp and then dislodged and jumped down.  In hindsight, I was very lucky as my eyes did not get injured and most of the scratches/bite marks can be hidden under my hair.

But....it was rather dramatic.  DH was just heading outside to smoke when I walked up to the house with blood dripping from my head and forehead.  He got so worried when he saw me, I started crying.  He was so nice and so caring......I bled all over my clothes and all over the jacket he'd given me for Christmas some time ago....he cleaned up the wounds for me and when I confessed that I was embarrassed by how stupid I'd been, he reassured me that he would've done the same thing, and I couldn't have known that would happen.....he even called the hospital to see if they thought I should come in--I was really surprised that they (the hospital) weren't too concerned at all!  They asked if he thought the bleeding would stop without stitches, and then just said "keep an eye on it"....Luckily (or not), I've been through this before, although I don't think I've bled so much or had so many punctures.....so I know that I have a pretty good chance of one or more of those wounds getting infected....and I also need to keep Rabies in mind, although I think that its unlikely.   I thought for sure, that the hospital would insist on rabies quarantine for kitty and/or shots for me, since DH explained that it was a stray cat....but they didn't seem worried about that at all.....I'll just stay aware, though, as I know that even if it's unlikely, it's a possibility.......Kitty is still firmly ensconced in the chicken house.  Not acting crazy at all, just looking a little nervous, kind of like "I know I messed up, not sure what that means....".  I went out there a few hours later to tell him/her I was sorry and I understood that it was scary and I wouldn't try it again.  He/she let me pet her (but I opted not to pick him/her up).....I'll go to the regular Dr. tomorrow to have them take a look and get some antibiotics.....

I told DH that Kitty was still a sweetie, and he was surprised.  But really.....Kitty didn't know what I was going to do, and I don't know what was in Kitty's past, he/she probably thought death was imminent, and if I was in that position, I would certainly fight with everything I had, too.....so I really can't blame Kitty, just gotta blame the overly optimistic cat woman.....

We haven't taken in a stray since 2007 (can you believe it?) And I don't want another one.  I will try to find a home for him/her, but I'm not optimistic :-(

Phooey.  I should've stayed in bed.

Mom update:

I think you all know that I had enrolled my mom in Hospice back in August.  When I called them the first time, she was refusing food, liquids, meds....very combative when she was awake, but very sleepy and difficult to rouse most of the time.

I had read, on the Alzheimer's Association web site (www.alz.org) that sometimes people can "rally" when they begin a Hospice program (it's theorized that maybe the extra attention/pampering helps).  I kind of chalked it up to "wishful thinking" and even if some people did rally, well, probably my mom wouldn't, as she was pretty out of it.

Amazingly, though, we've had these last few months as a "rally" of sorts--she began again to eat and drink, and accept her medications.  She even went to exercise class on occasion, where prior to Hospice, she had adamantly refused to attend any activities.  This is not to say, of course, that she got "better", really.  She no longer knows who I am most of the time, and when I tell her "Hi Mom, it's Carol", she says "What is your real name?"  She believes my name is Donna Mae, for some unknown reason, so I say "Well, some people call me Donna Mae"....and she says "That's what I thought!"  And smiles because she knew.

Aside from me being "Donna Mae", though, things have really been stable.  I still go to see her every night after work.  It's gotten more difficult for me emotionally to do that, though, sometimes I really have to force myself, because it's so hard to see.....but I tell myself that no matter how hard it is for me, it's got to be ever so much harder for her....and she needs to know (even if she forgets) that someone loves her....so I keep going.....

And now it's gotten even harder, because it appears that the "rally" has ended.  Once again she's extremely paranoid and delusional, refusing food, water, meds.....hard to wake up.....and of course I start wondering: "Is this it?  Is it time?"  I wonder if it's another UTI.  Even if it is, though, I don't think much will be done, and that worries me in a confusing way.  How can I sit here and do nothing, what if something could help.....?  Did I make the wrong decision by getting Hospice on board?  "She rallied once here, maybe we can figure out how that happened, and we could get her back to that place...."

I'm really struggling with that right now.  My heart is not ready to let go, even when it's so hard to see her.  My heart is still thrilled when my mom looks at "Donna Mae" and says "I feel like we've known each other for years!"  But in reality, on 90% of the days, I know my mom isn't having fun.  Her quality of life is very small.  And me wanting to keep her around......probably that's selfish.  But I also don't want to "hurry" things along, either, because while this disease has been so terrible, and there has been grief at every turn, there are moments and memories to treasure.  Have I mentioned  before that I think my mom has a setback every November?  It took me quite a while to figure out that it's possibly the time change/change in routine that brings on more confusion.  So I guess I shouldn't be surprised at the latest downturn, but I still am.

DH stable again (kind of)

Well now that DH has been officially restored to his "regular" dose of Lithium by the pdoc, things have gotten somewhat back to normal.  He's still on the higher dose of Abilify, and that seems to be helping his motivation too.  In his appointment, the pdoc said "Your case is one of the trickiest I've seen.  You are on high doses of several drugs and there aren't a lot left to try.  I've worried that as you grow older, this combination won't be as effective as it has been.  Clearly, reducing your Lithium was not a good change.  We need to hope this works, because I'm kind of at a loss here."  That was a scary thing to hear from the pdoc who (as I found out when I googled him last weekend to see what hospital to call) is a state-renowned expert.

So I'd like to report that all is well.  And surprisingly a lot of things are.  DH's paycheck this week was $91.00 (frankly, I can't believe he's actually still employed at all).  That's quite a drop from the $400 and $500 paychecks he was receiving a couple of months ago.  But compared to lean times in the past, DH has been surprisingly understanding about how little money we have.  In the past, he would be begging me to bring him out to eat, buy him pop, buy him cigarettes....and this time, he seems to have a better understanding that those are luxuries and there is no money for that.  That's been a relief for me, because before, when we were broke, and he kept begging for stuff that I couldn't buy, I always felt kind of bad for not being able to make him happy (but intellectually I recognized that there was no way I could).  So his new attitude has taken a little of the pressure off of me.

So what's the catch?  Things are great, right?

Well, some of you who've been reading this blog for a long time might have already guessed:  Last week, DH's "back went out" and he made yet another trip to the E.R., which resulted in yet another bottle of Percocet.  I'm not sure how or why, but I'm sure it's the Percocet that's responsible for DH's improved attitude.  I'm still doling out the pills, I keep the bottle in my safe and he can only have 2 or 3 pills a day, but as soon as he started taking them, once again, he was more easy-going, more ambitious and more alert.  Once again he's concerned about his blood sugar, and has started to try to take some little steps to try to lose weight. I had mentioned this to the pdoc, thinking that maybe there was something similar in the world of psychotropic meds that could bring about a permanent change without the addictive narcotic, but the pdoc was just as puzzled as I am and didn't offer suggestions. 

I know he's got a dependency problem.  And it makes me angry.  But really, things are so much better when he's taking them, I get all mixed up when I think about it.  If he's on Percocet, there's a better chance that he'll go to work, and we'll be able to pay the bills.  There's a better chance that he'll pay attention to his blood sugar, and that will enhance the quality of life for both of us.  But there's that addiction thing.  And shouldn't he be able to achieve these things without a narcotic to prop him up?  I don't know the answer.

I hate Percocet.  And once again I feel like I'm caught between a rock and a hard place.

"A realm like no other"

Just as a "postscript" to the previous post, when DH went to his Dr. appointment at 2:40 the other day....he...."felt funny" and ended up talking about back pain with the Dr. and not telling the Dr. about his mental health symptoms at all.  We had also put in a couple of emergency calls to the pdoc's nurse, who never called us back (but it's possible she was out of the office on Friday).  We really felt alone and didn't know what to do.

DH continued to become more and more unstable during the night.

While I was at work at the group home, he called me and told me he couldn't sleep.  I asked him what was going on, and he said "If it wasn't for you and my mom, I'd be dead right now."  Now there's something that kind of tends to set off the alarm bells.....but wait, there's more :-(

I asked him at that point, if he thought that maybe he should check himself into the hospital and he said he thought he could make it through the night.  A few hours later, when I had gotten home from work and was in bed, he woke me up and said "I don't know what to do, about every 15 minutes I just start crying for no reason at all and I can't stop.  And I don't know why.  And then when the crying stops, I get giggly for a while, then I start crying again.  I just wish I was dead.  I think it's time for me to check into the hospital."

I thought so too.

I asked him if he had had mood swings like this before he was on Lithium.  He said, "Carol, this is a mental health realm like no other.  I've never been so scared of my mind."  "The mood swings have never been this fast and the urges have never been this scary."

So I called the hospital that his Pdoc was affiliated with, the one that the Pdoc had wanted him to go to last month when they started "tweaking" his meds.  I told them that DH was a patient of the pdoc and was having a crisis and the pdoc had wanted him to check into that specific hospital.  They were very kind, but unfortunately all of the beds were full there, so if he was going to go to the hospital, he'd have to just check himself in and he'd be transported to wherever they had an empty bed.  DH didn't like that idea, because he was afraid things would get even more "messed up" without the pdoc that knows him.  I understood and was unsure as to what to do--I knew DH was in a real bad spot.  But since he seemed to be still able to recognize that things were bad and he needed help etc., I didn't want to just call 911 and have them take him away.  We talked about it for a long time.  I didn't get any sleep.  I looked up Lithium and Abilify and there was no big red flag "DO NOT TAKE THESE TWO DRUGS TOGETHER" or anything like that, and, since DH was already taking Lithium with his Abilify, just that the dose had been lowered significantly (by half!), and since we couldn't find a pharmacist or a doctor who would tell us for sure if it would be ok or not, as a last resort, I said "go back and take the dose of Lithium that you were taking before it got cut" (he had been on that high dose for over a year).  I hoped it was ok to do that.

All day the moods played across his face.  "That Guy" came out often, for silly reasons, like a dog licking his hand or something.  And "That Guy" would get angry with the dog.  DH usually loves the fact that the dogs and cats love him and he usually tolerates their affections much better than I do, even.  Then he would get so down that he was just paralyzed.  He couldn't get up out of his chair to smoke.  Then for a minute, he sounded fine.  Then it would change again.  I was really afraid.  I knew I had to work all night and I was very worried about leaving him.

I had to leave for work at 8pm.  At about 6pm I noticed that I wasn't seeing his expressions change like they had been.  And his eyes weren't closed.  I asked him how he was feeling, he said "I think I feel better."  By the time I left, we had conversed enough where I was confident that he was, indeed, doing better.  I don't think I've ever been so relieved.  I asked him if he thought he would be ok when I went to work and he said he would be fine.  And I believed him.  So I went to work.

At about 3am, he called me at work and told me that he had felt so much better, he had cleaned our bedroom and bathroom.  He said he was going to take his "old" bedtime dose of Lithium (the higher dose), along with his other meds, and go to bed.

So it appears, that Lithium may be a miracle drug once again.  I'm not looking forward to explaining to the pdoc that I/we changed the dose of a med without authorization, but I honestly didn't know what to do. It seems like right at this moment, anyhow, that it was the right choice. 

DH is becoming more unstable

I am seeing mood swings often.  Yesterday, DH called me at work and was in such a good mood, he was so happy to hear my voice, he was going to make me supper and clean the kitchen, and he couldn't wait until I got home.  I drove home feeling like it was a rare day when I could feel really good about my marriage--I was really happy.

Well, I got home, no supper, kitchen hasn't been touched.  I asked him what happened, and he got that cold "That Guy" voice and told me if I was going to lecture him about not doing things then he isn't going to do them (huh?)  So much for that.

But then this morning when I got up for work, DH told me that he's "having big problems".  He told me that his moods are going from happy to sad to angry in minutes for no discernible reason.  He said that yesterday he cut some firewood (yay!) and he looked at the chainsaw and had an overwhelming urge to apply the running saw to his foot.  This hugely alarmed me.  I suggested he go to his regular Dr. and ask for help, as the PDOC is 100 miles away (but comes to our town once a week).  DH also told me that thoughts of self-mutilation are popping into his head.  He says he's not suicidal and he believes he is strong enough to fend off the self-injurious urges.

I suggested that DH check himself into PDOC's hospital (as PDOC had suggested before) but DH doesn't want to let me down by possibly missing work and/or getting fired....he also is worried about the dogs needing to go out while I'm at work.  I told him neither reason was worth dying over and that we could and would cope with both.  He said he would just wait until the urges pass, as he knows his emotions will change in a minute anyhow.

I'm really worried.  I want to say "at least you were (mostly) stable when you weren't doing anything....lets go back to the old meds..." but we probably need a medical doctor to tell us that we can do that.

DH has a 2:40pm appointment today.  I hope we can find a way to help him.

Hows this for a Blessing?

I'd been really stressing.  After the "can't wait" bills got paid, I was left with $11.00 to last for 10 days.  That's for food, gas, and any other incidentals.  I was slightly panicked.

DH's pdoc raised his dose of Abilify to 15mg and lowered his Depakote dose.  DH continues to be on less Lithium than ever before, as well as the Seroquel being totally discontinued.  Sadly, though, with the $11.00, there was no way I could go to the pharmacy and pick up the new med.  That helpless feeling like I was drowning was really coming on strong.

The only difference with this recent "panic" is that I've been here before.  I've done it all before, and cut things to the bone.  I know I can do it, and I know a lot more tricks to make sure I do it well.

I'm virtually certain that DH will be unemployed soon.  They took away another one of DH's scheduled days because of his attendance.  So right now he is scheduled to work 16 hours per week.  DH didn't even remember that they (his employer(s)) have a policy of doing that (cutting hours when you miss work at a certain point level), so when he found out he was only scheduled for 2 days, he asked for more hours and wound up looking foolish....I don't think the people who work directly with him know about his mental health issues.  He is going to have the pdoc write a letter to management and see if that helps.......who knows....

.....And of those small checks of his, $25 comes out of every paycheck to pay that loan for when he pawned Jim's rifle.  DH swears that since we made that contract, he has not pawned anything at all.  But basically his pay will only cover his cigarettes and not much else.  I know I need to be grateful that he is still employed at all, because I remember how frustrated I would get when I had to come up with money for his cigarettes when we were broke anyhow.... 

I'm going to have to buckle down again.  We really never got back to where it was comfortable to go out to eat, or where we could get TV again, but it was nice to be able to buy better foods at the grocery store and not juggle the bills so much.  It's better this time, though because this time I have a little warning.  The last time DH was out of work, he had been making about $50,000 a year, he came home from work and said "I quit".  And I thought (since I didn't know about his mental health problems at the time) that he'd just up and find another job right away, so I wasn't as worried as I am now.

Now, I recognize that there's a high likelihood that he will be unemployed indefinitely again, although maybe that would improve his chances of getting his disability approved.  The hardest thing will be to try to be able to buy foods that will be diabetes-friendly.  I can do it, though, I know I can.

So here's the blessing: 

Shortly after DH got home from the PDOC, I got a phone call requesting my services as a pet-sitter for three days.  At $10 per visit, that'll be $90!!!!  Just in the nick of time!
(I had started pet-sitting when I was laid off in 2010, since I wasn't confident that I'd find a new job so quickly, and this was one of my clients from back then).

I always try to tell myself that "the money always comes from somewhere"....which, I guess, is another way of saying "the Lord will provide".....but sometimes I have a hard time believing it.  Once again, I'm proven wrong and I'm happy to admit it.

P.S.  As requested, I'm putting a "donate" link on the page in the next few days.  But I feel kind of weird about it.  I'll see what happens and how I feel about it after I've had it for a while.