purpleglitter and I went to Kickass Cupcakes in Davis Square on our way to Haveli (in Inman Square) last night. purpleglitter had a lucky cupcake (a cupcake with a fortune) and I had a very rummy mojito. All I can say is: delicious! Paddington gobbled up the catnip and cheese cupcake we got for her when we got home — and promptly passed out in a drugged haze. She hopes to find more of those magic cupcakes lying about.

Paddington's cupcake even had an unsearchable goldfish cracker on top of hers.

I've been drifting away the last several days. The dizzy spells and twitchiness have enveloped me. I cannot move and flicker out. I fight this place, it is hard, but I am not giving up.

Sometimes I end up caught in a nasty cycle in which I have one of my "episodes", can't get up, and fall asleep. My "episodes" are more common and intense right after waking, and in these cycles I'll wake right into another episode, not be able to get up, and fall asleep again. Yesterday, I spent 3 hours on the couch in such a cycle – drifting in and out of consciousness.

I was planning a trip to Maine to see invalid_userid this weekend, but purpleglitter convinced me I should wait until the current wave subsides. However, in preparing for the trip I did find out that the bus route to Maine was quicker, cheaper, and more frequent than I had previously thought. This will make the prospect of making plans to visit less daunting in the future.

Project Schedule has not happened since Monday. I wonder if perhaps the concept is flawed. I've always had large portions of my work day where I could not be productive. I was able to compensate before, why not now? A refined and rigid schedule leaves no room for compensation. However, I am not sure if I should give up Project Schedule until I come up with a better plan to increase my productivity and ready myself for re-entry into employment.

I've been having "episodes" all day, more intense since around 1pm. Dizzy, twitchy, fally. More and more often I'm briefly losing consciousness. What was before extremely rare is now uncommon. I don't like the change. I've been trapped in the episode cycle for the last several hours and haven't been able to get out of it. Coming in waves, it sometimes feels I may break free then I'm pushed back down.

This morning, zarthon picked me up for therapy today and took me to the Arlington Diner for breakfast beforehand. Unfortunately, my therapist called to cancel after we had left. I waited over a half hour for her before leaving the clinic. Very frustrating because the people at the sign-in should have known that my appointment was canceled and yet did nothing. I fell down trying to find where zarthon had parked and some idiot bitch (there's some of that venom I was talking about) got security because I wouldn't get up. She didn't call because she was worried, she made that clear by the manner in which she addressed me and by barking at a nice man trying to help me up to not give me a hand. She escorted escorted the nice man to the building leaving me alone on the pavement in the parking lot. She did it because she didn't think the situation looked "proper", because she was another annoying busybody in a world full of annoying busybodies. I did manage to get up with the help of my damaged but still functional cane before security accosted me.

I talked to my therapist on the phone when I got home and have a new appointment Thursday that zarthon will drive me to.

I've been very dizzy and fally today with a smaller degree of twitchiness. I did manage to make it to dan4th's New Year's waffle party. I particularly liked dan4th's gingerbread waffles. I enjoyed being at the party and having good talkings with the people, familiar and new, that were there. When it came time to leave, dan4th offered me a ride because I had been having "dizzy" episodes off and on while at the party. I declined because I felt guilty about taking him away from the party. I didn't want to be a burden. That was a mistake on my part. I made it halfway to the bus stop from dan4h's house when I ended up on the snow the first time. Went down again across the street from the stop. And again waiting at the stop for the bus. The third time, a passerby was worried and called the authorities. Luckily I was able to get up and on a bus before they arrived. However, I had an unusually intense episode while sitting on the bus and lost consciousness. I ended up missing my stop and getting off at Stop & Shop. Stop & Shop is a 20-30 minute walk to the house_of_clocks when I'm doing well, and I didn't have enough money to get back on the bus. I used my last 50¢ to call purpleglitter and ask her for a ride home. Unfortunately she was in Braintree with zarthon and couldn't help me, so I had to walk. It was quite cold and the walk didn't begin well. Almost a half hour after I left Stop & Shop, I had ended up on the ground four times and had traversed relatively little distance. I almost ended up crying in the snow because I didn't see how I was going to make it home. However, I did end up breaking out of the episode cycle and was soon able to walk the rest of the way home largely without problem. Even so, I felt a large wave of trappedness. I don't like feeling that I cannot leave the house without depending on the assistance of others. I don't want people to feel obligated to give me a ride home every time I visit them. I'm worried that people won't want to see me because of that. I feel like I was already a burden and now I'm becoming a greater and greater one. I know that things may not remain this way, that when I see my neurologist again I might get meds that might help me. But with so much fighting, I don't have faith in the medical establishment anymore. I don't have faith things will get better. Maybe I should be more optimistic, but I can't get myself to be. I just can't.

Whoever gets closest to comatose, without going over, wins.

reach your stoned capacity
it's right next to coma
it's fucking great
yep

purpleglitter wanted cosmopolitans. While we knew the ingredients, we unfortunately did not know the proportions. Lake made a guess as to the proportions, and was… well… very wrong. But the results were very drinkable and very strong. We dubbed them lakemopolitans.

Shortly after we started drinking, merryperseis joined us in the livingroom, and we contacted transgirl on AIM and asked her to come over. I had never met transgirl IRL, and only met her a brief time ago online. I made everybody lakemopolitans.

Unfortunately, I underestimated the strength of a lakemopolitan, and soon was spinning. Shortly thereafter, I passed out in the bed. A number of minutes after I left the room, I am told, merryperseis went to bed as well.

purpleglitter and transgirl got along fabulously for many hours after everyone else went to sleep. This makes me very happy. I like to see purpleglitter being social again. She has been trying to break her reclusiveness, and this is a very good step.

Shortly after purpleglitter called 911 a week ago Thursday, the house was swarmed by paramedics and firefighters. They brought me to Mount Auburn Hospital. At first, all they did at the hospital was observe me. When my resting heart rate went up to 130, they fed me a bunch of charcoal. I kept slipping in and out of consciousness as my heart rate climbed to 170 and set off the alarms. I remember brief glimpses of people visiting me during the night, though I can't place any of that in chronological order. The whole experience is too much of a blur.

Around 4:00am in the morning I met with the psychiatrist on call at Mount Auburn. He talked to me and said that he would be admitting me to a psychiatric unit.

At about 6:00am, he came back and told me that he was admitting me into a male room (with male roommates). I told him that I wasn't going to go, but he said I had no choice. I informed him that if he insisted I be in a male room, that was okay, I'd just go topless. I threatened "How comfortable do you think the staff will be with that? How about the other patients?". He relented and found me a private room at Pembroke Hospital.

7:00am, zarthon arrived just in time to hand me some clothes and toiletries before they put me in the ambulance bound for Pembroke Hospital. I remember watching the Zakim Bridge drift into the distance through ambulance windows as they took me away from Boston.

I hate being sick. I'm going to take some NyQuil (the nighttime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, why did I wake up on the kitchen floor medicine) and go to bed.

I don't remember where I heard that description of NyQuil, but it fits.

I can't deal with another confrontation with Bebe, so my new plan is to be overly-concerned.

Everytime I see her wobbly I've been asking, "are you feeling well? You don't look well. Are you sure your feeling well? Okay, you're sure?".

If I hear her fall down (which she does a lot), I ask, "Are you okay? That didn't sound good. Do you need some help? Are you sure you're okay? Are you really sure, that sounded horrendous."

Everytime she passes out somewhere other than her room or throws up I ask, "Do we need to take you to the hospital again? Are you sure? You don't seem to be okay, are you sure we shouldn't call someone? Are you really sure?"

Every time I'm simply sitting in the kitchen with her, I go on, "Have you called rehab yet today? You know this is going to kill you. You're ripping apart your innards. You're going to die a painful death from internal organ failure if you keep this up much longer, or you might fall over and hurt yourself badly. You know you should really stop."

These aren't things I just mention in passing or occasionally. I'm determined to say something along these lines everytime I see her. No respite! Either I'll drive her into rehab or I'll drive her away. Either is fine with me.

I heard Bebe throwing up a little bit ago. Little did I know it was all over the phone. Bloody Vomit. She didn't even try to clean it. Probably too drunk. She's passed out in her room.

I had picked up the phone before I noticed what was on it. I touched it. Besides being disgusting, bloody vomit is a health hazard. Scrubbed my hands. Scrubbed my hands again.

I don't think she should could possibly be surprised that she's spewing bloody vomit again. The hospital told her it was her excessive drinking last time. Has she stopped? No. Has she even cut down? No.

I hope her stupid brother decides to not send her the money she's asking for. That way, she won't be able to pay the bills she owes, and I can kick her out guilt-free.