I made it on time! No evil forces kept me away, and the demons within me were almost completely kept at bay.
The training room was a dump but the trainer is a great guy. I think he's about my age but he remarried and has a 17 year old daughter. I could not imagine that at my age. Blah blah blah, it's training so it's not worth writing about.
Then I went for my D.O.T. physical. That had me on edge all day. I was worried about my blood pressure and the bulge in my abdomen that could be construed as a hernia. My eyesight was not at it's peak either, and of course my hearing sucks in my left ear.
All that worked out but I had to make a decision about my mental symptoms. I haven't forgotten my promise to myself to not disclose my mental illness to anybody ever again in the workplace, so when asked on the worksheet if I was ever severely depressed, I honestly answered no. As for doctors, I don't really have a primary care physician.]
So I reported Trazodone for sleep because millions of people take it, and Buspirone for anxiety. When the PA asked about those drugs I told her I was on Buspar because of anxiety. She asked about my primary care physician. "I don't have one, I go to a psychiatrist for these meds because I'm trying to get the right meds after too many times of being treated improperly for depression with anti-depressants instead of for anxiety."
"A psychiatrist?" she repeated.
She left, I got dressed, and she came back with a bunch of paperwork. I'm not allowed to work while taking Trazodone. The Buspirone is okay but strongly suspect, blah blah. I have to have my doctor fill out a form and on that form it asks what meds I'm on.
Do they get the full list, and accompanying diagnoses? I stopped at the clinic where my shrink sees me Tuesday evenings but I can't get in to see him until the 24th. I need to talk to his assistant sometime during the day today. I don't know how they're going to play me not revealing what I'm taking, i.e. the depakote. It's not on the list of drugs I can't take.
Tuesday:
I called my shrink's assistant and explained my dire situation. I've calmed down a bit but I really can't be laid off until this is resolved, and I can't wait until the 24th. She's trying to get ahold of him but I didn't hear back from her.
I called my mother, who's still in the hospital for an infection that went from an abscessed tooth to a bone infection. This is a serious infection and she could be on antibiotics for months.
My body is giving out. The chairs in the training room are shit.
I had a good bike ride after work and then just crashed on the couch. Where my head is at? By this blow-by-blow I guess it shows I'm just being methodical. It is what it is. I thought about the prospect of going back to work at the dealership if this blows up. I sure don't want to do that.
I also haven't addressed the fact that I'm going to be coming up short in the funds dept. I told Peggy my goal was that by July 2nd I'd have the money to join LA Fitness and my new life would be back in order, or just IN ORDER for the first time since moving up to Minnesota. "Is that too lofty of a goal?" I asked her.
Wednesday:
We have a test today, part open book. I didn't study and I'm not overflowing with confidence. As to why I didn't take copious notes? I'm not sure of that at all. I didn't do well on the test yesterday. I'm not trying to sabotage my life. I really want this job and have no Plan B. I just hope beyond hope that we spend a lot of time going over what's going to be on the test before we take it.
One of the trainees quit yesterday and another didn't show up for the first day of class. That means just maybe they don't want to get rid of us?
I heard from my clinic. They said they were working on it. When I have money they're getting some of it. If I don't get approved we'll "work it out" is all the guy who hired me said. My concern is not being able to sleep first and foremost. On the other hand, I'm sleeping pretty good right now. Went to sleep about 10:30 and didn't wake until 5:30. That's what NORMAL people do!
Thursday:
Peggy stopped over for about an hour last night. I can't quite put my finger on why it makes me smile to think of our pleasant hour together, but it was fantastic. We laughed and teased and both talked and hugged and showed our love for each other, all in an hour. Or maybe it was great because it was sort of like having a friend stop by.
We're composing a Mix CD and she had a say in some of the songs and the arrangement. I cut her a copy and she was so thrilled it worked in her car. I'm getting together with her Friday about 9pm. It's a sleepover.
When I know I'm starting a new chapter in my life I make a mix. Some of my self-imposed ground rules include songs that aren't on several other mixes, not all happy, and I won't fast-forward through them. This CD is different in that it's a collaborative effort so it's not all my doing but it's good.
Our Mix CD is called "No Sale" because I'm out of sales again:
"Hero" by Family of the Year
"Happy" by Pharrell Williams
"Oxygen" by Colbie Calliat
"Let it Be" by The Beattles
"Stomp" by Serena Ryder
"My Funny Valentine" by Dave Grusin and Michelle Pfeiffer
"Carry On" by fun
"Desperado" by The Eagles
"Overkill" by Men at Work
"Love Song" by Adele
"Better Together" by Jack Johnson
"I Don't Know How to Love Him" by Andrew Lloyd Weber
"Beast of Burden" by The Rolling Stones
"All of Me" by John Legend
"I'm Moving On" by Rascal Flatts
"I Won't Give Up" by Jason Mraz
"Feeling Good" by Michael Buble'
"I Do I Do" by Charlie Mars
"Say Anything" by Tristan Prettyman
I'm going to be driving special needs people around the Twin Cities. I wear a bright florescent vest. I'm a Teamster Local Union #120. We're having a picnic July 19th. That could be worth a couple paragraphs here.
Friday 3am:
I had to release my personal medical records between my psychiatrist and me saying I'm bipolar and on Depakote, and that I'd stop Trazodone cold-turkey, to get a $12.50/hour job. What's wrong with this picture?
And to top that off, I made it by the skin of my teeth. I've been up for an hour now. I listened to "This American Life" but my choice of episodes was not the best. I chose one about a 19 year old Iraqi who was brash and bold and bilingual. He was there when we invaded in 2002, or 2003, or whenever that happened.
In the meantime, it's 3:00 in the fucking morning and I have little confidence I'll get back to sleep. And if I do get back to sleep I'm worried I won't hear the alarm!
On the brighter side, I got my D.O.T. certification! I'm a bus driver AND a Teamster! WooHoo! I get to help other people more disabled than me. I should write about this. I mean, WTF? I have to have my psychiatrist disclose I'm bipolar to drive a bus?
"Have you ever been hospitalized from a manic episode?" I was asked by the doctor who was going to sign off on me getting my permit. I told him I hadn't, and he said, "Good, because if you had, you would not be able to get this certificate for five years. I assured him I was Bipolar II, not Bipolar I but my doctor took it upon himself to leave the Roman numerals out. I can't really blame him, I joke in my PRIVATE sessions that maybe I'm Bipolar 1.5.
Yes, I feel violated. No, I didn't see this coming when I started blogging. I"m not out of the woodshed yet. Or is that the doghouse? I have to go to the clinic and sign another medical disclosure form. "You signed one on Monday but there was more information released since then so you need to sign another form," said Yolanda. Now is it up to her to bury my diagnosis or escalate it further? And who is it that's so concerned, management or my union brothers?
WTF?
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