MOUSE RESUSCITATION
Thanks Nancy for your comments.

I may not be blogging very much for a while. My mouse has died. My computer mouse, that is.

The clicking part of the mouse works ok, but when I try to roll it around the cursor doesn't move the way it's supposed to. I took it apart because I thought maybe it was because the mouse ball was dirty. But that wasn't the case.

If you look inside your mouse (flip it over & take the mouse ball out), you'll see these little rollers inside it. One moves the cursor vertically, the other horizontally. When you move your mouse, it's the mouse ball causing the rollers to move, and that's how your cursor moves. Well, for some reason, my mouse ball is no longer connecting with my rollers. It's as though the space inside the mouse somehow got bigger and the ball no longer touches the rollers when it connects. So now the only way I can maneuver the cursor is to take the mouse ball out of the mouse and manually move the rollers with my fingers. Those of you reading this now, take a moment to do this. Take the mouse ball out of your mouse, and for about 5 minutes try to maneuver the mouse from the inside with your fingers.

Aggravating isn't it? And now you understand why I won't be doing any but the most very necessary net-surfing for a while.

In other news, I had the big sit-down with my boss today. We went through my review, which was fine. After all was said and done I raised the issue of my salary. I told my boss that I had done some research, and I'd learned that there were a # of colleges where I could walk in off the street without a college degree and still earn more than what I'm currently earning with the same type of job. (For the record, I hold a master's degree, I have a few years of office experience, and I've got almost 2 years' seniority at my current job.)

My boss agreed with me completely. Then she told me that when I first got this position, the powers-that-be told her it was a lateral move and that my salary couldn't be raised. Then she told me my name was on a list of people being considered for salary adjustments. But she didn't say when that decision was going to be made. So we'll have to wait & see.

The resulting relief after all the anxious buildup was so great that it left me famished. So I bought lunch at McDonald's. Then on the way home I grabbed a pint of Haagen-Dazs Chocolate Peanut Butter (the first pint of ice cream I've purchased since New Year's Eve).

Time for me to stop now. Don't know when I'll blog again...
- posted by Pat @ 7:16 PM | 0 comments

 
DAMN, THAT WAS EASY!
Since I had today off and since most medical offices were open, I decided that this was the day I was going to start calling p-docs in the hopes of finding a new one.

I sat down with my cell phone, my insurance carrier's directory, and a slip of paper upon which I had written the name & number of a referral given to me by a friend. I mentally prepared myself for at least 30 minutes' worth of calls, voice messages, and being told, sorry we're not taking any new patients now.

I dialed the referral's number first. 5 minutes later I had an appointment scheduled for next month.

I couldn't believe it. Every other damn time I've tried to find a new pdoc I've had to call at least a dozen people and play phone tag. And I got this one on the first shot. Go Me!
- posted by Pat @ 8:48 PM | 0 comments

 
SOMETHING BRAVE, OR MAYBE STUPID
I did something brave last weekend. Or at least, I thought it was brave, sice it took me 3 goddamn years and a hell of a lot of nerve to do it. But maybe it was just stupid.

When I got tossed out on my rear from Prestigious Institution, there were a handful of people who were shocked by my fate and felt that I had been royally screwed. Some of these people even offered to be references for me.

Last weekend I sent an email to all of these people thanking them for their support. I explained that it had taken a very long time for me to get over the stress and anxiety of what had transpired while I was there (which is a big lie, seeing as how I'm still not over it), that I appreciated what they had done for me, informing them that I had another job, and that if there was anything I could ever do for them not to hesitate to ask. It was succinct and eloquent, if I do say so myself. (If nothing else, I AM a damn good writer.)

Y'know how many of those people bothered to acknowledge my email? Not one. Zip. Zero. Nada. Not even a quick "glad to hear you're doing well, take care" reply. Not that I really expected anyone to rush over to me with open arms & offer to take me out to lunch or anything like that, but I figured I'd at least get a response. From SOMEBODY.

And now, if any of you needed any proof that depression really is a MENTAL illness that can really fuck up your thought process, get a load of this. I have a friend who has cancer. As I type this she is lying in a hospital bed crossing her fingers and hoping that her bone marrow transplant was a success. And here I am wishing I could trade places with her.

Yes, you read right. I want to switch lives with a cancer patient. Number one, I wish I had a legitimate reason to lie in bed all day. Number two, this person is a gifted writer (better than me, she's actually been published multiple times over) with an amazing support network behind her. She has like, an army of people who have rallied behind her in her time of need. I can't even think of 5 people who would visit me in the hospital if something like that happened to me. This person has a rich and fulfilling life that may be cut short, and my life is worthless.

Memo to God: Not that I have any frigging right to tell you how to run the universe or anything, but if you're going to give someone cancer and maybe have them die, why not take someone who's not contributing anything to the planet and is not going to be missed? Someone like me.

Every day I look in the mirror and I see the wrinkles that are starting to form on my face and the pounds that have tenaciously attached themselves to my body. And I know that I will never be beautiful or desired. Every day I go to my low-level job because I don't have the energy to do anything meaningful & I seethe over the things I could be doing there but am not allowed to because "clerical people don't do that". Every weekend I lie on the damn couch and do nothing because I don't have the energy to be productive. My life has no meaning. Life was wasted on me. Why not take the years I have left and give them to someone who desperately wants them and will put them to good use?

I wish I could donate years of my life the way people donate pints of blood.

If any of you are still reading beyond this point, you're probably disgusted with me. I don't blame you. I'm disgusted with myself for even thinking like this. Nevertheless, it is how I think.

Apparently there's this new part of the performance review process at my job where we have to be reviewed quarterly instead of yearly. My update is scheduled for Thursday. I'm wondering if I should ask my boss why I didn't get the $$ that was budgeted for my position.

I'm sorry, people. I know I'm a loser. You don't have to tell me, OK? I already know. This is why I want to donate my life to someone who needs it more than I do.
- posted by Pat @ 8:02 PM | 2 comments

 
GOOD NEWS, SORT OF
I called the insurance company on Wednesday to have them translate the legal mumbo-jumbo they sent me in the letter I referred to in my previous post. I said to the live human being on the other end of the line, "I have one simple question. And hopefully you can give me a simple answer: If I go to see a psychiatrist, what's my co-pay?"

And the simple answer was: The same co-pay I would have if I saw a PCP or any other specialist. I'm limited to 32 visits per year (no big deal, I've been seeing the other p-doc once every 3 months), and once I find another p-doc I have to call an 800# and tell them who my new p-doc is. No PCP referral necessary.

On one hand, this is good. It means I don't have to pay an arm & a leg for psych care. On the other hand, it gives me less of an incentive to look for another job.

I'm really torn about this. I know, I know--in previous posts I was absolutely livid. And I am still angry. But on the other hand, I like the oodles of time off that I have. And I like my boss, even though she screwed me. She IS nice to me. And that's more than I can say about a lot of the dimwitted psycho-twits I've worked under in the past. (And if you've been reading this blog as long as I've been writing it, you know what I mean.)

I honestly thought I was going to spend my Christmas break posting my resume on a bunch of sites, but I didn't do a damned thing. I'm thinking I want to wait until after March. I'm going to a conference then & the college is paying for part of it.

So what do I do, people?
- posted by Pat @ 8:58 PM | 0 comments

 
JUST POSTING FOR THE HELL OF IT
I've had the past several days off from work, so I have time to blog. But I haven't blogged because there really hasn't been much for me to say.

Christmas was uneventful, as usual. The one exception being that I got a totally unexpected phone call from a friend. It was the only real conversation I had that day.

No real news GAD-wise. It's been laying low since I've been off work. Then as I was eating my breakfast this morning I thought to myself, "Gee, I'm going to have to be going back to work in a few days." And I felt the edginess creeping up on me like an impending thunderstorm. I've also had a few diarrhea attacks today (aren't you glad I shared THAT with you?). Of course, this could have been from the semi-dangerous food I ate this afternoon.

Let me explain. I think in previous posts I've alluded to having somewhat of a clutter problem. Back in September 2004 the exterminator came to my building to spray all the apartments. We were instructed to remove EVERYTHING from our kitchen areas so the guy could spray. I cleared all the food out of my cupboard & stuffed it in a garbage bag.

The garbage bag has remained on the floor of my apartment until this week, with many of the original items still in it. A few weeks ago I lugged a huge cardboard box home from work thinking that I would do a Christmas project with it. I never completed the project, but I still had the box lying around with stuff in it that had no other place to go. So instead of getting rid of the box, I decided to start throwing in items I had bought that were lying around my apartment because the cupboard and the drawers were all full.

I filled the box, people. And my apartment still looks like a wreck. But getting back to my original point, I managed to empty out the 2004 garbage bag into the box. And I decided that I would eat (or attempt to eat) one box item every day until I get the damn thing cleared out.

So today I watched the outdoor hockey game on NBC. I've never mentioned that I'm somewhat of a hockey fan. I used to be into it more, but now it's kind of hard to follow hockey when you don't have cable. But this game wasn't on cable, and so I treated myself to watching a full game, something I haven't done in years.

Now, it's always been a tradition of mine (long story, don't ask) that whenever I watch a game I have a snack of microwave popcorn & diet Coke. So I popped a bag out of the 2004 time capsule & had a can of diet Coke...with an expiration date of 2005 stamped on the bottom of the can.

The popcorn wasn't too bad, but the diet Coke definitely had a different taste to it. I ended up dumping it down the sink.

In p-doc news, I got a letter from my health insurance company yesterday. It had some mumbo-jumbo about mental health coverage, so tomorrow I'm going to call the company and say, "Look, I've got a simple question & hopefully you'll give me a simple answer. If I go to a psychiatrist, what's my co-pay?" If the answer's favorable (and I have reason to believe it might be), maybe I can start seeing another p-doc & forget about Bellevue.
- posted by Pat @ 8:45 PM | 1 comments