Brad and I have a good life together with nowhere near the levels of stress we’ve had in the past with his job and our individual health and family crises. Part of me is still in the ‘what’s next’ mindset because our lives are so good right now it’s like I’m waiting for something to screw it all up. We’ve both worked so hard for so many years and we couldn’t believe we’d made it to his retirement…final retirement…from his career as the Director of TRPA (Texoma Regional Police Academy) three years ago.
We’ve both got our chronic health issues but nothing earth shattering or impossible to deal with. The problem, in my case, is staying on top of those issues while attempting to deal with unreasonable medical personnel who don’t give a rat’s ass how their ‘rules’ affect the health and well-being of patients…or would-be patients.
I dealt with the stress pretty well yesterday and headed off an all-out anxiety attack by knowing when to call it a day. The rest of the day, and night, went very well. But here I sit, over 24 hours later, on edge. I know what it is. It’s the blow back from yesterday. I know that this too shall pass. It just irks the piss out of me that in this day and age of medical advancements and training, so many people are made to suffer needlessly. Let face it, folks. The medical community and our government have let us down. Badly.
So, in the meantime, there are countless ordinary citizens, and some not so ordinary citizens, who are dealing with life changing medical issues, many of them related to stress because of the way we are treated by the very people who are supposed to care about our welfare and well being.
I hate this. I don’t like feeling helpless and shaky the day after another clinic full of so called professionals let me know that they don’t give a damn about me because ‘they have no choice’ but to do what they’re told. I’m still trying to get my head around the fact that, one more time, I’m faced with trained professionals who don’t care about our laws. In this case, federal law.
If you haven’t already familiarized yourself with the Americans With Disabilities Act of 1990 you should do so. There is also an update as of March 3, 2021 that you should take a look at as well. It’s all online. The update covers those persons who should NOT wear a face mask, including anyone suffering from respiratory illness, anxiety, depression and a number of mental and neurological disorders.
I’ve had asthma since I was a small child. I was treated for clinical depression in the 90’s and have had no more symptoms to date. I also suffered PTSD during that time and although depression hasn’t been an issue since then the PTSD still rears it’s ugly head from time to time in the form of acute anxiety, difficulty sleeping, and being unable to put all that stress behind me for days at a time. I hate it. I always get past it, but damn! Enough is enough! And my problems are miniscule compared to what many others are enduring.
So, I do my deep breathing exercises and look for ways to keep myself occupied until this latest round of stress dissipates. And in the meantime I’m silently cursing the powers that be that can’t, or won’t, admit that they’ve screwed up royally. Again.
I’ll end on a positive note. The sun is shining. The house is open. There is a wonderful breeze blowing through the living room window. I’m hearing the satisfying sounds of gunfire coming from the gun range closest to the house as Brad spends some much needed time on target practice. His shop is clean and organized for the first time in years so he can actually enjoy himself. The house is clean. The fridge is stocked. There is nothing that we need that we can’t buy without a little planning. I’ve got plenty to occupy myself with my own hobbies. Our daughter and her family are doing well and we are able to be of help and support to them as needed.
It can always be worse. Always. So, I’ll count my blessings and deal with this latest round of crap and enjoy my life. And now, back to regularly scheduled knitting and reading. Mitch Rapp is about to kick some serious terrorist ass and I’m halfway through another washcloth in blue variegated yarn.
Rural Texas Knitter 