Lisa's POZ Blog

Endless circles. For weeks now, I have been walking in circles. So many thoughts, and nothing is getting accomplished. It all feels like a bad Carpenters song……hangin’ around, like some kind of lonely clown”....."funny, but I always wind up in here with you".

I do well to keep my bills paid, but what about the mounting pile of laundry in the corner of my bedroom, that has nearly obscured the antique rocking chair? What about the fact that you can actually see the path of travel through the life size dust bunnies (read jackalopes) in the hallway. Oh, and how about the grubby patina of the kitchen floor? Let’s not discuss the fact that every flat surface available in the “dining room” is covered with some type of mail, correspondence, medical appointment papers,computer 'stuff', and so much more.
Nothing says pitiful more, than when you 'save' the dishes up for two days, just to motivate my OC ass.

I have missed both of my prior appointments with Rachel, even though the last one, I had the date completely right, and had recorded it on all of the calendars, yet failed to make sure of the correct time. As luck would (or wouldn’t) have it, I was completely certain that the appt. time was for 1:40, but alas, it was really for 10:40, and at the appointed time I went to the calendar to make sure of the minutes, only to find that I had already missed it by hours. It only takes me fifteen minutes to leave the house, and be at the check-in window……… Well whoopsie, I’ve done it again.

At this juncture, it has been a smidgen over five months since I last saw her. Not good. Especially since I have so many things I need to talk with her about. Please remind me about the eyes, and my impending visit with the Ophthalmologist for the exploration of why my eyes had an increased IOP….*intra-ocular-presure*
……by the way…….felt by I had just been queried by something a tad shy of Ocular Mother, or her possible fair minded minion…….
During the interim since my last visit, I have seen the neurologist she set me up with twice. He wants me to have another neuropsych work-up like I had in ‘03, repeated. Alas, that was when I still had insurance. Now that I am indigent, they will not see me.
He has done a really super job of completing neuro/cranial checks, within the confines of our visits, and after my last appointment with him, (after he excused himself to confer with an attending) he ventured the hypothesis of HIV dementia (somewhere along a timeline). Well duh! I’ve known that for some time now. Big surprise. The truly unfortunate part of the equation, is that it can neither be proved, nor disproved while the patient is alive. This is something that can only be confirmed by autopsy, which will never happen because I’m guessing that many AIDS related deaths are attributed to either the disease entity itself, or stemming from same.

I live in a rather strange circumstance. The only thing reminiscent of my former life, is getting up in the morning, and making my coffee to toss my pills down, and set about my daily activities.
That is where the semblance stops. My brain is too fragmented to form a daily plan, or schedule.

The simple truth is, that in my more lucid moments, I fully recognize that I have lost tens of points on the IQ scale. Hell, I was the girl who only needed to study the schematic of a piece of equipment, in order to repair, or maintain any given piece of medical testing equipment in our clinic. I created, and maintained a clinical database of all of our patients’ testing, and from which groundbreaking paradigm shifts were formulated. I was accomplished, and published.
Should I mention here the acute diagnosis of severe, bilateral, carpal tunnel syndrome, for which I received the ability to have the right one done.
In contrast, I have yet to still fully understand, and utilize all of the faculties of the little bitty mini-video/cam (made for teenagers), purchased for use in Montreal. ( i really thought i wanted one of those cool lime green colored ones,but none were to be had, ...hence the smart little royal blue.)
Nearly a year ago, I was given a romper room version of how to publish pictures in my blog by Bailey, whom I know, had to have laboured for a significant time to help me, as I was initiated to the world of blogging.
I will admit here, that I simply cannot put those printed-off instructions into use. My mind cannot wrap itself around each of the intricate macros to bring it to fruition.
I still feel a sense of pleasure that I have learned how to write my blogs with my Word program, and be able to cut, and paste them on to the blog page.

The thing most troubling to me is the fact that in the original neuro/psych evaluation, I learned that I had a supposed genius IQ. How completely ironic that I would be given this neat title at the pinnacle of my decline.

I find it difficult to complete my thought processes here on these pages, as I know that it comes off rather halting, and disjointed. I see so many people reaching out to post a tentative thought. While I would glory in the opportunity to converse with so many people, I am lacking the physical stamina of my hands, and wrists, to say all of the things I think in my head..
I am embarrassed by the fact that at one time I would have been an able author, but now find myself having to stop frequently because the thought process I was trying to convey, simply leaves my head.

There was a forum member here, who was controversial at times. He wrote in long prose, that some found too bizarre to follow. He inserted himself into other peoples threads, and wrote in tangents. Some found him annoying, but I found him worthy of an open ear, and a willing heart. He was reaching out in a profound statement every time he responded in kind to another.
I do not know what happened to him, but we have not seen him for quite some time now. I can only hope that his toils here have been mercifully relieved.
I've frankly been making forays into a parallel experience of the comingly infreqeunt daydreams of a frightend future ensconced.
My point here, is that I can only now wonder if there will come a day, when my own mind will take such a tragic turn. Will I still be someone worth taking time for? Will I still be the person that my friends have come to understand, and love regardless?

I used to have a marvelous wit. I was raised by people who possessed an innate gift of empathy, and a healthy sense of common human comedy.
I know that I have lost significant ability to be occasionally spontaneous. It has also recently come to the fore, my diminishing abilities to think even of other things, just on the other side of that door.

I ‘ll just give you a glimpse of my tiny world here on S. street.
Next time here, ….
………… a microcosm of a masked obsessive compulsive.

BUT, I anxiously await each day for my little furry friend to awaken, and seek me out. That is when I am most happy.