Carpal Tunnel…

…Sucks the life out of every single hand-related activity. 

Masturbation included. I have to put it there. That’s the reality of it. 

The injection that I got today was painful as hell but I’m really crossing my fingers it will help and I won’t require surgery.

My depression isn’t helping any of this pain.   The closer the day is to when my lease ends in my apartment, the more depressed I get. My dog’s wound seems to be getting better. If doesn’t stink today and I feel better about that. It would hurt us financially even further if I needed to bring him to a vet. Every bit of my money in the bank is allocated to rent. I don’t know what will happen to me and my family after June. 

I’m currently sitting here at Stanford Hospital waiting for my name to be called. After getting the steroid injections at the other clinic, I drove here right away . Good thing I arrived 40 minutes before my appointment, that way it gave me enough time to fill out the patient information (5 pages) and write about my misery.

Isn’t that what people like to read these days ? Lol

I’m hungry too besides my bladder being full. After this appointment I head over to see my therapist THEN psychiatrist. My whole life, I somehow am not surprised much that this is happening to me. After my violent marriage, I knew I would have issues, despite being done with it in 2002. The last time I saw my therapist, we talked about possibly getting one run. I procrastinated and haven’t even jogged. I just have no interest and although I used to love to run, I just can’t.

My last resort if I don’t find a place to live will be Florida with my sister. I love California and I wish to stay here for the rest of my life. Anyway, I know already that my sister and I won’t get along. 

Read this post and tell yourself, “hey my situation could be like hers…or worse”. You’ll feel better. 


My 10-year old pooch has a gangrenous wound on his left hind leg. All throughout the morning I was running up and down the stairs in my apartment  looking for a way to get the hydrogen peroxide on his wound. It is smelly as fuck and I'm quite guilty because ever since I adopted my three cats, the poor doggy got neglected.

"The cone around his head is too small." I told my 19-year-old son. "I'm going back to PetSmart and exchange it…again." I climb upstairs again to shower. All morning I have been unable to focus. My mind raced like it's being chased by a rabid squirrel. 

I know ! 

My 21-year-old daughter may have gotten peed off that I kept fidgeting that why she climbed back to bed after finishing her bowl of cereal.

Also, it's the second day that I'm off from work and I felt like I better do something productive like pack more stuff in the boxes in the living room. My family and I are looking for another place as my rent is no longer affordable. My landlord already issued me an eviction notice. All I've done today was do a Jeopardy! marathon with my daughter…then she went up to her room.

It's a struggle. My cats and my dog haven't been able to get rid of fleas. Since he's been biting on his leg to scratch it, the skin came off a patch from the lower leg and now my dog has a stinky wound. The cats are 1,3 and 7. Their fleas are 4-months old. 

I don't think the clutter in my living room brought about by the boxes I've been bringing home from work helps with my agitation. It makes me feel cramped and just in a total mess. 

Then as I climbed up the stairs one more time to get my shower going , I realized I haven't taken my Xanax. The coffee I made this morning – has kicked in and I am all the more apprehensive. My heart started feeling like it's being chased by a rabid squirrel. So I told myself to take a deep breath and darted to my bedroom to grab my bottle of pills from my work purse. As fast as I can, without pouring all the contents on my hand and dropping some on the floor, chugged one 1 mg pill. 

"This is horrible." I thought to myself. "This explains why I had those dreams last night. I switched up from my daily Xanax to that worthless Ativan my primary MD insisted I take instead. I was off yesterday and thought maybe I take Ativan since I wasn't working. I took 1 0.5 mg in the morning and another one in the afternoon. My old doctor gives me Xanax. He's seen me in my worse – tears, shot, sobs…. and I couldn't care less if I take Xanax all the rest of my life. This feeling of near panic and not being able to control myself will eventually cause me more issues in my life I believe am not ready to deal with. At a point, someone at work or my neighborhood will get into my nerves and I might just yell expletives at them. I will either be fired from my 2-month old job or arrested for public disturbance. 

Worrying about my dog doesn't help. Guilt doesn't help. Not being able to find my fucking hair brush doesn't help. I took more breaths stepping out of my house and wrote as I walked to my old van.

As I drove out of my parking space, my nerves started to calm down.