flagrant

RIP: Fearing Zyprexa [December 8, 2004 - October 25, 2008]

consider: the benefit of burrowing lower than rock bottom. AND how the concept of Z has changed from an unfathomable threat, to that which, if it does hurt, cannot possibly hold a rank on the current scale of disaster.

it has been difficult to accept that this is the sickest i have ever been. today actually seems no different than any other time. frankly, and finally, looking back causes a shock. though one of the real-imaginary blog characters out there states otherwise, my body weight isn't a barometer of psychopathology. in my experience, numbers need to be *up* to outrank really, really nuts.

having just stepped off the boat at a time when ordinarily standing in his office, i saw resident doctor #4 in an odd slot this afternoon. it was weird. it was hot. my traditional therapy uniform was ignored in favor of slinky long sleeves. i told him how i am no longer trying to wake up, but that it is finally happening on its own. the thought had been sure that i would die before christmas out of a combination of frustration and crazy spontaneity.

during the springtime, the plan was to attend a 'general' partial hospitalization program at ucla. as the admission process progressed, their director took a new job elsewhere and several staff members quit. now this program is restricted for ucla patients who are transitioning from an inpatient setting.

my doctor never mentioned this to me. i was left hanging-- thinking every week that someone from ucla would call and tell me that my name had moved up on the waiting-list. months were spent waiting to hear that they were ready to schedule an intake appointment. it was bad. at the time, stress was tremendous and that hope was the only thing i had to use to counter suicide.

after all of this time, we have finally addressed this topic. resident doctor #4 instantly agreed to refer me into the program at cedars-sinai. who knows how this will unfold, let alone the focus of the therapies, but something needs to be done.

AND so, tonight: it comes down to the 'now anticlimactic' zyprexa.

"take it with an ativan," he said. "it'll mellow you out." wow. apparently anything physical, such as walking or perhaps crawling to the bathroom tomorrow, can now be declared an event in advance. if ativan facilitates sleep, our opinion is that tiny amounts of zyprexa will allow even more.

the directions in regard to time and dose are clear, and i am apt to be groggy for the next week, but... how is it possible to forgo the challenge? i don't know how *not* to allow this pill's anti-obsessional properties to partner with my anorexia. this is illness. to leave the idea alone, and let the pill work, would essentially be considered 'well.'

okay.

if i wake up fat, i told you so.
if i make zyprexa a dangerous weight loss pill, i told you so.
if nothing happens, well...

consider how ferocious anger would still flare:

him, effortless toward everything other than fork, moan, or remote control.
me, endless work trying to rid him after he was gone.

lately, hazy days have been filled with murderous and suicidal nights.

about two weeks ago, at two o'clock in the morning, the archenemy and i were beating the living shit out of each other on a freeway overpass. did it matter which one of us would see the other fall? not one bit. if truly suicidal, and i was, why care? of course it was perceived as exceptional illness, but my laughter (when directed at the threat of his 'wobbling ankle' or 'arm whipping around to find balance') was genuine. in between the staggering desperation, were splinters of hope. AND how is it crazy to feel honestly happy when in command of recalling the inarticulate hell?

needless to say, the archenemy lacks endurance, and i refuse to be responsible for holding up morning drive while someone hosed me from the southbound 405. he spoke of not caring one way or another.

"who cares? i'd be dead," he said.
AND that sentiment alone is worthy of death, dontcha think?

[back from vacation]

well, holy m!therf!cking chr!st, THAT was excruciating.

[somewhere, out there]

- in a lackadaisical form of foreign medical quarantine
- on a very large boat
- with people i don't want my hacksaw touching for at least 48 hours

[somewhere, out there]

except for an hour at sunset when a pod of baby dolphins followed and entertained us,

- still seething
- on a very large boat
- with people i routinely threaten to saw apart and boil
- each of whom are dealing with viral gastroenteritis
- and think their associated discomforts are excuses to moan in places other than their own blogs

consider: what's this 'i'm too sick to clean up after my own splatter' nonsense?

[somewhere, out there]

- on a very large boat
- with people i routinely threaten to saw apart and boil

once upon a time on an overcast day, i was out of character and behind the wheel. the driver who ran the red light was in character, therefore drunk, and t-boned my _______ as i was crossing through an intersection. like i said, i had been free from the fear of rain.

at approximately 55 miles an hour, i found the boredom before the sound ended. the impending promotion of rigid defense was relieved that The Doom struck prior to the final dent. did i think to hang on? no. i thought, "can we hurry up and roll over, or at least come to the smashed end so we can get out and once again prove The Point?"

had the role called for commanding The Nothing-- my nitrous MINI -- and to impossibly appear in that exact voxel of life... would the memory of my seven year old passenger reaching out as the airbags deployed still play?

the portion of me which i had thought to put down has double woven the fear of other people. as predicted, "the average member of the population" proved impulsive-- negligent. fear one, then two-- then stay in. months pass by. this blog dies. AND though we all agree it is safer to have the ability to go out and transact, the third click of the lock offered a great relief.

frustration still inadequately articulates itself in the form of wordless withdrawal. initially, when addressed by strangers, i must have appeared quite the asshole-- stopping mid-sentence or mid-motion only to sickly grimace and back away. AND i acknowledge this, but did pursue the dream-like retraction. AND my six percent of health which mutters that old script about 'savoring the liturgy' while 'holding the hell'

perhaps made it worse.




"thou shalt maintain an anxious state of checking and protecting yourself in triplicate. a person 'without capacity for much' is apt to intersect your path. nobody can consider all of their actions prior to proceeding with their life-- you will be the one to get hurt. you must be prepared to save yourself AND them."

that day...
ten thousand-fold, you know?




consider: focusing on the details to mask emotion.

"why didn't that driver simply make an effort to _______?" or, "had i spent ten seconds longer toward brushing my teeth, what else wouldn't have happened that day?" other than pathology, what has time produced other than intricate marvel? nothing but another loss, profoundly bound in the what if-- never felt.


consider: how i think i am supposed to be able to type this out by now.
consider: tidy it up.
consider: 55mph x 55mph = an ache or two, move on...

consider a flying glass coffee pot
AND then explain how in the hell i put a hole in the floor?
over there.
it's three days on and i have yet to stop scrubbing.

that mug was annoying-- i don't mind.

can the cabinets can be salvaged?
no.

[sigh]

not well.
not at a level which could be articulated.
not feasible to drop out this week
AND be accepted on a professional basis in panama.

consider: i do better far away.

option a: take the zyprexa. the damn vitamin Z.
option b: this turpentine smells fairly attractive.



conflicts:
considerations:

after three years of charting obsessive opinion, am i really going to swallow olanzapine on a random night out of pure desperation?

resident doctor #4 wants me on it. NOW. AND has scheduled a third appointment this week, since we both take off for vacation on friday. i have built up so much into the concept of this zyprexa, that agreeing to a trial while swimming alone feels like the worst idea.

you remember how it is the best idea. several years ago he had me start a trial of zoloft right before a vacation in peru. if not for the distraction of babysitting invalid friend chuck in a foreign country that week, zoloft wouldn't have been tolerated for longer than two or three days. NOW is probably right. this is the best time to confirm an assault, or benefit, of zyprexa.

life is rotten. five lights are switched on, yet this room remains dark. i am blind to all property unless squinting-- to take in too much horrific detail.

even without offering the therapeutic metaphor, resident doctor #4 insists we take a pharmaceutical approach, but... how will i be able to read the prescription without finding another microscopic bug?

DID, violently:
- use footpart to break vacuum cleaner
- strategically boomerang a boiling pot of coffee around the kitchen
- fill the bathtub with phenomenal portions of Nothing Ever Tastes Good Enough
- scrub bedroom walls with bleach until blissfully blistered


DID NOT:
- go after that fat bastard with the appropriate knife
- succeed... having used the closest utensil


WENT:
- mad
- around and around with danger for far too long

AND also artfully secured myflagrant mattress under seven rolls of layered duct tape.

The Bugs came to eat me.
"you're so sweet."
fxck, it hurts
AND i never even see them.

"...not vital life,
not insect.
it's just blood, surfacing."
hmm, okay.

AND so what if my mother decided to retire today?

squirm when considering relativity:
how The Bastard has neither itch nor scab.
no family expects to suck on him.

The Bugs came to eat me.
they are living under my skin.
i swear.

DID:
- flew the fan
- kicked a boy
- spit on the carpet



DID NOT:
- shower
- post any bills
- unlock the mailbox

in 16 days, chuck's vacation begins and we will be traveling to _________.


me:
- thanksgiving will be spent in australia, isn't this enough?
- flying to seoul and munich seven times before january ("just come with")
- "if you stay home, you might get bored enough to actually vacuum."
- nowhere; antigua, guatemala to visit kidlet at school; or haiti


him:
- iquitos, peruvian rainforest
- random ideas without consideration of value or practicality


other, obnoxious:
- suggest dangerous slums where violent crime is problematic in broad daylight
- to the bay area, where i can jump off the golden gate bridge


other, better:
- bocas del toro archipelago, panama = fairly inexpensive airfare right now
- anywhere, after the decision, is routinely an excellent destination

food success, finally.

noteworthy:

- incomprehensible evenings since springtime
- needed to threaten murder by fire to restrict [person] from hurting me
- the food selection, if documented, would definitely be unbelievable
- none of this is overstated or romanced


inspired by:

- the larger tube-fed person spotted yesterday?
[no, anorexia 'says' that broken person confirms i perform better.]

- refusing less than four hours of daily cardio for the last few weeks?
[perhaps, as there have finally been a few instances of hunger.]

a stranger crossed the parking lot:
- underweight
- wore a feeding tube
- initially walking proud




her crimes:
- moo to you, kaugummi
- cigarette

AND, let's ASSume: a gallon of diet coke sloshing around inside that gut.




my fatter crimes:
- i am thinner without threat of mechanical intervention
- the fact that i can see that i am thinner
- here i just reached a recently written goal of "shock! never ever shocked."
- receiving the double take from a competitor
- winning, in both the right and wrong directions
- winning, though physical signals predict an unfortunate future

AND, secretly sitting 30 minutes away from flicking the chymiferous glop.
AND, this temporary arrogance thrown up for our investigation.

resident doctor #4 remains fired until saturday. how i had the audacity to leave someone who earns $400K/year waiting for me last night, while having no intention of showing up for the appointment is ________________.

answer: a vast improvement.


so, this weekend i will invest.

yuck: saturday.
yuck: morning.
yuck: sunshine.

yuck: crazy bitch security guard.
yuck: she always accidentally touches my ass.
explanation: tugs at the length of my hair and uses the words "your booty."


excuses/reasons to stay home:

i feel like crap, dammit.
i look like crap, dammit.
if using '"i" statements' rather than '"we" statements' why would i need to go?
AND sure, noticeable weight was lost this summer, but it will never seem profound.


award winning answer:

+ 20 missed appointments
x $600 each saved
= money trumps depression

damn mental patients who fall for symbolism
AND then craft reduced opinion in order to aim their heavy arms here.

consider:
- choking, acting smothered in their lonely olanzapine wiggle.
or,
stop setting them up, reluctantly losing the hilarity and fake gripe.