December 19, 2011  Monday

R.I.P. Vaclev Havel.  You did good by your country.  

Hmmm.  In retrospect, Bailey’s wasn’t such a great idea.  Headache and masto reaction, tho thankfully a mild one.  Headache is at least in part due to our old bed.  Hope that will get taken care of in a few weeks.  Yippee!!!

Brain fog delux today, even worse than the past few days.  Believe it's mostly due to the stress yesterday.  I was having to medicate heavily to keep going.  Worried enough I brought out an Epi-pen to keep beside me.  Can’t think my way out of a wet paper bag.  So much to do.  Commented to a friend on FB that I’m so far behind I may as well be heading in the other direction.  This is one of those “live in the moment” days because I can’t seem to remember all the stuff I’m supposed to be doing!  Coffee didn’t help, either, tho it and a muscle relaxer finally killed the headache and neck pain.  

Signed up for two WD writing classes last week.  Already a bit behind, but I can catch up in a day or two with a clear head.  Hope I haven't bitten off too much.  Really looking forward to learning!

December 18, 2011  Sunday

Work sucked beyond belief today.  Widespread electrical outages took down routers and I lost contact with a significant portion of my system for a few hours.  Unusually warm and erratic temperatures and a string of mechanical failures on other company’s systems that impact us lead to a truly dreadful day.  I based my system control decisions on experience from the previous day and prior week.  Of course the situation went in a diametrically opposite direction, so what I hoped would protect my system did protect it but left my change out partner in a bind with too much of a good thing.  His shift was no doubt difficult because of my choices.  

Too much or too little?  When production is threatened, I lean toward too much for the simple and very real possibility that problems will lead to failures and ultimately there won’t be enough to satisfy basic demands.  Recently it’s been a good bet.  Yesterday it wasn’t.  

We work alone on nights, weekends, and holidays, so the constantly ringing phone was my only companion.  Called a manager for decision making concerning a contractor, but was pretty much solo other wise.  It’s a very lonely place when things go to hell.  Knowing it’s my last shift for 10 glorious days got me thru.  

At home tonight I read on FB that my dear friend, who’s already had a challenging year featuring, among other trials, the suicide of a young family member, will be flying back stateside on Christmas day to visit her brother in his final days.  He’s a longtime alcoholic, who jumped into a bottle when Bobby Kennedy was murdered and has seldom ventured out since.  A bright man, Columbia law, a promising start, now a wasted life.  

Kim Jung Il died.  No grief here.  I hope his country can survive with no clear successor.    Wonder if they’ve figured out he wasn’t divine? 

A large glass of Bailey’s cut with water and chipped ice, seems like a great idea.  

December 17, 2011  Saturday

Work is becoming less fun by the day.  12 hr shifts are so hard to recover from.  Long drive in in the dark and a long drive home on equally dark, slick roads with loads of traffic.  I’m not having fun these days.  

December 16, 2011  Friday

I spoke to Fearless Leader about my shifts.  Told him after the new guy is trained up I’m going to officially request a cut in hours.  They allowed that several years ago without having to use my vacation time or losing benefits.  I’m hoping they will do so again.  There has been a drastic change in command and philosophy in HR since the last time. I’m not getting my hopes up, but we’ll see.

He took the communication opportunity to blame my department lead for just about everything imaginable, knowing, of course, she was off for the day.  Arrogant ass thinks he’s a good manager and blames the department problems on everyone but himself.  Explains why he’s unusually attentive and cruises thru whenever the old manager is in the building.  Feels he’s being upstaged and sidestepped by him and our lead.  Doesn’t seem to understand that someone has to make timely decisions to keep things going. 

Bitch, bitch, bitch.  I gotta get out of this place...

December 15, 2011  Thursday

OK, just haven’t felt up to writing the past couple of days.  Been feeling bad, mentally and physically, “self-medicating” with food, not exercising, getting too wrapped up in work conflicts, loathing my schedule, unable to recover from long work hours and accompanying fatigue, Masto in an uproar...  Saw the doc yesterday and she’s not pleased at all.  Put me back on several meds I’d managed to get off of for a time.  

Highs are fewer and further between and lows are deeper and last longer.  Something about the low carb eating plan seems to greatly help my body and mind and even put a damper on some Masto symptoms.  It warrants more serious attention than I’ve previously given it.  The hellish part is the carb cravings may dull a bit, but never, ever end.  Worth it, I think, to reduce the pain level.  Certainly helps my joints and muscles ache less and my thoughts are clearer.  Doesn’t allow for the “self-medication” aspects, though.  Protein doesn’t supply the “hit” I’ve so often used to get thru difficult times.  I realize I’m using it as a drug.  My innate ability to rationalize points out that, unlike alcohol or recreational drugs, humans cannot function without food.  There are flaws in that argument I’m not entirely ready to tackle.

Just signed up for a couple of Writer’s Digest University courses, one starting today and another at the end of December.  Both last a number of weeks and will compel me to write, submit, deal with critiques, and meet deadlines.  I can do them at home, the coffee shop, just about anywhere.  Were I working night shift, I could easily do them then, but after last week’s experiment, I’m not willing to go back there, at least not yet, but that’s a topic for another day.

December 12, 2011 Monday

No post yesterday due to extremely high winds taking out the power to us and 4,000 of our neighbors for 12 hours or so.  Hubby pulled out the generator, fired it up and we had light!  Electricity came back, the generator ran out of gasoline, and my alarm went off all about the same time.  Very disorienting!

Winds were extremely high, close to 100 mph, last night.  Highest I think I've experienced in this house and it was groaning and creaking.  Was rather nice, just having candles lighting the house.  Quiet.  Calming.  No TV blaring.  No white lights glaring.  Enjoyed it, but, being winter, the pipes needed warmth, he needed Vorlon, and the generator performed flawlessly.

Roads were terrible today after the post-wind 14" of snow.  Was concerned about roof damage and finding all the stuff that used to be on the porches, so came home early.  Don't know yet about a small section on the back, windward side.  Will keep an eye on it.  Post-holed around the yard for various vantage points as we picked up stuff.  Snow well over my knees!

Guess they had a hideous night at work.  No surprise.  Just damned glad I wasn't there!

Going to bed early and try to make up for last night's lost sleep.

December 10, 2011 Saturday

Was busy from midnight until my relief showed up just before 0600.  Phone issues on the Peninsula kept me from keeping the system stable.  Rectified just before changeout, but the system was not in good shape.  Will take hours to recover.  Hate that.

If last night was meant to suggest I should reconsider night shift, it was a bad choice.  Did have a nice, relaxed, slow start to the shift, but the drive in and the last half of the shift we good reminders why I gave it up in the first place.

Noticed an unusual moon during the drive home.  Looked like the end of an eclipse and, low and behold, it was.  I somehow missed the whole buildup to it over the past few days.  Was a bit startling and more than a little neat.  Eerie halo thru a thin cloud layer.  Hope someone got good photos!

December 9, 2011 Saturday

Holiday/Friday night/First Friday traffic was killer.  Took me forever to get to work.  Held out for a Starbucks' in mid-town, only to find the drive thru blocked off by two APD cars.  Not a good sign.  

Really not looking forward to a 12 hour night shift.  Boooo!

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Had a blood draw this morning for both my 3-month checkup and my annual.  Oh boy.  I get the rest of my annual next week.  Sooo looking forward to that.

Been going to the same lab for years, so took a while to find them in their new location.  Apparently, I’m not the only person who didn’t get the message that they moved in October.  LOL!  Their new space is in the building next to my family doctor’s, so even more convenient.  My compounding pharmacy is two buildings beyond that.  If the imagining center came across the street, I wouldn’t have to go anywhere else!

A coworker was kind enough to stick around so I could get the lab work done.  I was very sleepy and would have loved to just go home after, but we’re running too thin on scheduling these days.  No room for anyone else to take an extra day, so back I came, listening to the radio as I drove.  Bad idea.  I heard about today’s shootings at Virginia Tech.  It’s only been four years since VT saw the worst murder of students ever at an American school.  My cousin still works at VT, as does her husband and their son-in-law is a Blacksburg police officer.  One of the two initial dead this time was a cop.  Took quite a while to be sure he was campus police and not local.  Also took a bit to make certain they were all ok.  It appears now the officer had pulled over a car and the shooter walked up to him (not from the car) and simply shot him, then fled on foot to a nearby parking garage.  Shortly thereafter the police found a male corpse in the garage with a weapon near the body.  Was a few hours before investigators were willing to suspend the campus lockdown and announce there was no longer a threat.  They would not say so, but it appears the 2nd body was the shooter, dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound.  

It was hard enough worrying about my cousin and her family.  I cannot fully imagine what the families of students must have felt during the long hours when the media insisted the 2nd body was that of a student.  There must be only devastation for the family of the officer.  It escapes me entirely how the family of the shooter will cope.  I don’t want to try and imagine their dilemma, their pain, their confusion.  It’s too much.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Seventy years since the attack on Pearl Harbor, the defining moment for my parent’s generation and the single greatest catalyst for my country’s entry into the Second World War.  A full generation has come and almost gone since that dreadful event.  Very few who witnessed it are still alive to tell their stories.  The number of those who even remember is rapidly diminishing.  When I was a youngster, not so very many years ago, there were many more veterans of World War I living than veterans of World War II now.  A sobering insight into mortality and the passing of years.

A family member of mine graduated high school in 1938 and very much wanted to join the military, both to see the world and to get the hell off the farm.  Some of his friends joined the Navy and he liked what he read in their letters home.  The catch was, as a minor, one of his parents had to sign permission papers.  The young man’s mother didn’t want him to go, and his father knew better than to cross her, so neither signed.  Their son bowed to their wishes and went on to find other work, mostly off the farm.  By late 1941, his Navy buddies were stationed together on a massive battle ship.  In those days it was common for local boys and family members to serve together.  (One would have thought the tremendous losses suffered by some communities, both Blue and Gray, during the War Between the States would have ended that practice, some hamlets losing an entire generation of their young men, but it continued, officially or otherwise, and would continue even beyond the horrific loss of the five Sullivan brothers at Guadalcanal.)

His parents’ refusal to sign for their teen son was the reason he wasn’t with his buddies on that sunny Sunday morning as their ship sat at anchor off Oahu.  He wasn’t with them when the silver planes painted with Rising Suns dove on ships and installations across the island and released their ordinance.  He wasn’t aboard their torpedoed ship when she rolled in her moorings, and he didn’t die with his friends, all of them, on that monumental "day of infamy."  He never quite forgave himself for not being on the Arizona that morning, but I can only be grateful.  He was my father.  

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

True to form, awoke feeling relatively well this morning.  Still sleepy, but the reduced daylight hours and skimpy light do that to me.  Just a few days until Solstice, the TRUE "reason for the season!"

Trying to write in in the library, trying being the key word.  Our small library is a popular place.  So popular I often catch myself wondering when it become okay for little kids to run screaming thru the stacks while their parents laughed and talked loudly to one another?  As a kid, I'd have been banned from my hometown library for such behavior, after getting a stiff talking to by every adult in the place.  I realize libraries must, in this internet age, expand their services and be more welcoming and inclusive to attract customers and funding, but surely inclusion can be done with better manners!  Must they supply children with noisy toys and a centrally-located play area in which to rough house?  Even with ear buds feeding me Mozart at a fairly high level, I can still hear the little buggers shrieking across the building.  Yes, the pull of the books is enough to keep me coming back, even with the annoyances.  Damn it.

Last night I tried a new skin creme my doctor thought might alleviate some of the spots on the off chance there was something going on besides the Masto Uticaria.  I tried it on three small areas, just in case I reacted badly.  Still spotted this morning, but with no apparent reaction.  Will do the full treatment tonight just to be sure.  It's to be applied literally from head to toe and left on for 12 hours.  Fortunately, it's also odorless and non-greasy.

I very nearly called this blog Grumbles From the Great Land.  Perhaps I should have.

OK, back to the writing.

___________________________

Three-thirty pm and the sun is almost down.  Gack!  I've noticed a definite increase in my tendency toward "sun-downing,"  the strong urge to drop what I'm doing, finish the most pressing errands, and bolt for home before the sun goes down completely.  I wonder if it's a completely learned behavior or something buried deep in my ancestral genes.  It must have been a survival device, the que to collect the food and the tools and the kids and beat feet back to the cave before some predator makes a meal of me.       Makes it difficult to enjoy evening diversions like movies or plays, parties or music events.  I get sleepy, too, even if I'm well rested and started my day late.

We are, of course, diurnal mammals, hardwired by evolution to see and function best in sunlight.  And there's always some bigger, nastier, toothier predator hoping we'll drop our guard so he can turn us into lunch.

Monday, December 5, 2011

When will I remember the library is closed on Monday?  After so many years of working every Monday, I’m seldom of a mind that I’m out and about every other one nowdays.  

Awoke today feeling my Masto and my weight.  Last night’s carry-out carbfest did nothing to help the matter, nor, in fairness, did the stress at work.  The day after a challenging day, or more than one 12 hr shift, is typically an achy, stuffy, painful recovery period.  Still, one would think, that by my age I would fully comprehend that weight slowly comes off and the body takes a while to realize it doesn’t hurt as much, while putting back on said weight seemingly happens overnight and the pain shoots up the scale quickly.  After a month of eating almost freely, I’m not only back to almost my original weight, I’m also back to almost my highest level of medications for both Diabetes and Masto and I’m again experiencing frequent and severe back and hip pain as my belly pulls everything out of alignment and my poor muscle tone does nothing in the way of correction or resistance.  

I felt so much better on the low carb eating plan.  (“DIET” is one of the few four letter words I’m loath to utter.)  My body is much happier, my need for Diabetes meds almost nil, my need for Masto meds reduced due to the lower stresses on my body and system, my knees, back and hips’ shouted complaints reduced to mutterings, my Masto brain fog noticeably slower to overwhelm me, yet I still crave carbs.  What the hell is my problem?

Just took a pic of myself.  Oh, yeah.  Kittah isn’t feeling well.  Swollen face, pallor, rash...yuck.

I’m listening to Christopher Moore’s “The Stupidest Angel” on CD.  Recorded books are a much better choice for me than listening to news, commentary, or even most music during my commute.  I can unwind a bit, rather than becoming annoyed anew by the state of the country, the world, the universe...  I enjoy Moore’s imaginative writing, though I admit I often find his books tough going.  Not sure why, but I adore his work when spoken.  I’m particularly enjoying this one and the bizarre and all-too-familiar caste of loonies, all of whom could be found at just about any gathering in this state.  

Seems timely; seasonal.

I seldom patronize the coffee shop I’m now in, not because of it’s ambience.  I love the warm colors, Alaskana/coffee/doggie decor, the friendly people.  I dislike the hard, unpadded benches.  Even with my natural padding, they are as comfortable as rocks.  

One thing I find a little unnerving:  there are figureheads at the top of posts separating the booths which are, presumably, to resemble dogs, the place being named after one and little sponged doggie paw prints sharing space with painted coffee beans all over the walls.  The carvings are more than a little anthropomorphic, with long, human legs and arms.  The heads have snouts and long ears and beady black eyes.  Well executed.  Attractive.  Oddly unnerving.  They more resemble anthropomorphic bats, or even armadillos, staring down at coffee drinkers than the companionable canines they are meant to represent.  

Mid-afternoon, after lunch and coffee, and the fog is beginning to lift.  I intentionally slept late, and read for quite awhile before getting out of bed, in the hope that would enhance recovery, but it appears I must take the allotted time, no matter what.  Like recovering from a hangover.  Coffee might enhance alertness.  A shower, cleanliness.  Food alleviates the munchies & brings up the crashed blood sugar.  But the fact remains that a certain amount of time must elapse for the alcohol to leave the system or, in my case, for the badly behaved mast cells and their dumped load of histamine to be reabsorbed.

These 12 hr shifts leave me in an almost perpetual state of “recovery” on my days off, particularly the 3 day stretch I have every other week.  The schedule in itself doesn’t look all that hard, but it has the effect of keeping my mast cells in an uproar.  But then, most every thing does keep them in an uproar these days.  

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Bad weather.  Extremely high Chinook winds plagued the region bringing warm temperatures as high as the mid-50s, freeing rain, sleet, power failures,...  Power failures mean (to us) the electric companies will be shedding load and thus do not need their allotted fuel and that, in turn, means we and all the producers are busy recalculating production, transport and sales with several spreadsheets and emails involved in every change, however minor.  

Additionally, a roof unit blew over on Base, severing the fuel gas line, and freely spewing said gas for at least an hour, and a multi-unit apartment fire (with a fatality, I heard later), and intermittent breaks in SCADA communication due to winds buffeting our hilltop comm dishes.  I was literally swamped with work from the time I sat down at 0600 until just before night shift arrived at 1730.  Throughout the day, my paperwork was often grossly late, this a violation of contract.  I explained myself to the other companies involved, and logged comments into the department blog, explaining the lateness with a description of the day, situation, events, and reminder that the tardiness was ultimately due to having only one person to handle it all.  CMA.  This was not a particularly unusual shift.  The one saving grace:  at least the temperatures were moderate rather than severely cold as would be normal for December.  

Other than a flurry of revised spreadsheets exchanged at mid-day, the paperwork went quite smoothly.  That, in itself, was enough to keep me in a good mood; a mark, I think, of how stressful I find that aspect of the job.  Well, that and medication and more coffee than I should have ingested.  Still, I was upright and not even close to tears or rage when I arrived home, even having stopped to grab carry-out on the way.  Surprisingly, even with the high temps partially melting the ice and snow, then high winds polishing the new ice, with cars and trucks overturned along the highway and clear signs some of my neighbors had been off the side along our road, I still made it home unscathed.  Of course, it was “my” Friday, and that always takes a substantial emotional load off.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Second day of a three day stretch of long shifts.  Hate it.  Busy and my Masto-brain crashes big time toward the 10 hour mark.  Beyond that I have significant problems thinking my way out of a wet paper bag, much less successfully accomplishing the ever-increasing paperwork and spreadsheets which are now part of our workload.  Typically I make a mistake which takes me half an hour or so to figure out, just at the end of my shift.  That tacs on more time to the 12 and a quarter I’ve already worked.  The harder I try to work it out, the more my brain screws with me, making more dense the already heavy mental fog.  By the time I leave I’m often close to tears.  The long drive home, which I’m also growing to dislike, does serve as a buffer during which I can listen to a book on tape or music and work a bit of the stress out, though I often still arrive home stretched almost to breaking, emotional and exhausted in mind and body.  Today even more so, as it was spitting freezing rain all the way.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Friday, December 2, 2011

Back to work.  Day wasn’t too bad until near the end when it always get busy and crazy.  Why do people wait until after 5pm on a Friday to try and pay bills, report leaks, etc.?  

I can definitely see that on work days I may be creating a post, but there is only a slim likelihood I’ll actually get it online, and there will be no creative thinking involved, nor will there be reading.  (sigh) 

We’ve been on 12 hr shifts since mid-October.  They suck.  Two of my co-workers like the schedule, but three of us hate it.  Can’t wait for the new guy to get trained so we can go back to the old one.  At least I think so.  Right now.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Today I begin my personal Happiness Project.  

I’ve decided to create two blogs to go with it.  One, “Spotted in Alaska!,” will highlight my daily ups and downs living with Mastocytosis. The title is a small inside joke.  Many Masto patients have a permanent rash. 

The other blog will be my upside blog, my daily commitment to working my way into a happier state.  I will use Gretchen Rubin’s book The Happiness Project as my guide.  Since seeing it for the first time and purchasing it 2 weeks ago, I’ve been impressed by the simple, reasonable means by which she changed her own life.  

Like me, Ms. Rubin was a normal, happy woman with a very good life, but she felt something missing.  She calls this “midlife malaise,” a nagging, disconsolate disbelief that “This is it?  This is all?”  We look at the walls of our comfortable ruts surrounding us and wonder where our dreams went.  Why we’re working at jobs we dislike just to make payments on “stuff” we’ve purchased in hopes of making ourselves happier.  

Now in December of my 51st year, I find myself buried in a very deep rut of my own making.  Were I to die at this moment, and if there were any consciousness left to me in the next life, I would doubtless spend eternity kicking myself for not having lived life more fully.

Like Rubin, I have little to complain about.  I have a nice home in a great neighborhood with a fabulous view of “our” mountain.  My husband and I have weathered the storms and calms for 26 years together and we seem to be stronger for it.  He has been unfailingly supportive.  We make enough to live comfortably and still put back some.  Also like Rubin, I expected, by this time in my life, to be living a much happier, more well-rounded existence.  I’d have learned a couple of other languages, tamed my weight problem, learned to love women’s clothing, have a career I loved, have lots of friends, entertain regularly, spend time creating art, and be able to give time and energy to causes in which I believe.  It never entered my young mind I’d suffer from two so-far-incurable ailments, both of which have contributed to keeping my activity down and my weight up.  I certainly never thought I’d work for a company I have zero respect for just to be covered by health insurance, nor that I would still be hauling around emotional baggage from my greener years.  

My primary disease, Systemic Mastocytosis, troubled me most of my life, but went mostly quietly along, unsuspected and undiagnosed, until 5 years ago when it stood up on its hind legs and roared.  It and I have been locked in battle ever since, it robbing me of strength, energy, endurance, muscle mass, bone density and, increasingly, the ability to think and speak off-the-cuff.  It has peppered my body with red splotches of rash and visited me with heart palpitations, extreme fatigue and muscle and bone pain I expected not to experience for another 20 or 30 years.  Even the minute “stress” of looking forward to going to a movie or a book group meeting can be enough to put me flat on my back on the couch, too exhausted to pick up a book, much less talk about said book.  The cocktail of vitamins and medications I take twice daily to (mostly) control the symptoms comes with its own suite of side-effects.  No free lunches, as they say.  

I increasingly feel like a spectator in my own life, watching the parade pass by but feeling too exhausted or too afraid or too utterly depressed to step off the curb and join in.  We live outside the largest city in the Great Land, only a short drive from wilderness and trails and adventure opportunities, yet I seldom feel up to participating and that is damned depressing and getting more so.  

Ms. Rubin’s book came along just as my personal malaise became almost intolerable.  I cannot follow her path precisely since we are very different people living completely different lifestyles.  I can, however, use her lantern to illuminate my own path.  At least that is my plan. 

Is happiness a product of genetics or born of our unique experiences and situations?  Not even the experts agree.  I suspect it’s a combination and if this is so and we can change our situations, then we can impact our level of happiness and satisfaction with life.   

Whether anyone reads these blogs or not is, in the long run, unimportant.  I would be thrilled if reading of my experiences helps someone else, but the contract implicit in keeping these blogs running is with myself.  

I’ve always been one to wait for the “best” or “right” time to do things, when life is smooth and controlled and I can have free time without guilt.  That time has never presented itself.  I suspect it never will.  If I’m to get hold of my life and make a difference, I must make a start, regardless of circumstances.  And so I have.