Posted by: jeanne | December 26, 2009

i’m back, but it’s not cancer

nope.  this time it’s a broken neck.

actually it’s a lot of things.

dear diary.

i’ll leave it for another time to go on about how public our private lives can become with the internet.  i can write my diary to my heart’s content, and then find out my mom’s reading it, and my sisters, while i’m out of the room.

it’s a moon thing.  i noticed it right away.  my kid is involved with the wrong people, easy to do if you’re 21 and MY daughter, that is, the daughter of ME.  she’s learning all about abusive relationships at the moment.  it’s just something you have to do yourself, because i know for a fact that she’s not going to listen to sense until she sees the pattern herself.

she’s been having altercations with the boyfriend, and they’ve been happening every full moon.  there was one on halloween, which was a full moon, and november 30, which was a full moon.  and now the next one’s coming up on new year’s eve, and i sure hope she’s working.

on the new moon, which was wednesday just past, the old ex husband tripped over little pixie and fell down the stairs head first.  two broken wrists, and a broken c1 vertebra, a very bad place to break a bone.  think chris reeve.

but, bless him, he dragged himself back upstairs on his elbow, cradling his dangling head with his upper arm, and called 911.

who took pictures of his cock ring with their phones, and laughed at him.  he’s not going to forget that.  and i might even see it on the internet someday.

i got the call from himself the next morning, and spent the next 3 days at the hospital waiting to see the doctor.  in hospitals, you have to be there every moment, because the second you’re gone they’ll sneak in, do their exam, and sneak away again before even the nurse knows they’re gone.

the first day i was there it was around ten.  the ex himself called me with the help of the nurse.  i broke my neck, he said, pitifully.  i need help.  i wish i’d recorded it.  the daughter and i hung out in the er and ran over to his house to see about things, and came back, and left again before he was settled in the room upstairs.

the second day,  i waited 12 hours, because they’d told me the doctor would be there before surgery sure thing, and then when i got back to the hospital first thing in the morning, they told me no he’ll be here after office hours, but they didn’t tell me that until 2:30 in the afternoon.

the rest of the days slip my mind.  i know that my feelings of dread increased every day, the closer i got to my ex home, and the hospital.  i don’t like what’s become of the house (or the town) since we broke up.  i don’t like what’s become of him, either.  he’s a real mess, with multiple prescriptions that interact, and a history of sleepwalking exacerbated by the sleeping pills he takes.  i’ve been using him as a character in my novel, in fact, because of his devotion to the miracle pill that solves all his problems.

the bottle of oxywhatever they’ve got him on says 1 to 2 pills every 4 to 6  hours.  my ex reads that as 2 pills every 4 hours, and wants an extra one to tide him over every hour.  and a bigger baby about it you can’t imagine.

he needs to smoke, too.  we have him on a patch, but this is the guy who, while trying to quit smoking, double-patched, chewed nicotine gum, and smoked, all at the same time.  while trying to quit smoking.  so he wants me to give him a cigarette and leave him alone.

well, oops, i see i’ve left this go on very long, it’s four days later, and he’s well stable.

he’s a bad patient, but the nurse said they make the best recoveries because they’re feisty, so fine.

i’m having problems with his medications.  paxil makes you dizzy and sleepy, xanax makes you evil, ambien makes you sleepwalk, and propranolol sends tapeworms to erase bad memories, all of which interfere with my task of keeping him from falling down again.

so yesterday i took control, diminished his xanax, and started hoarding his oxycodone so he would make it thru the weekend.

because, guess what?  the doctor who released him wrote him a prescription for 50 oxydodone, to be taken 1-2 every 4-6 hours.  that’s 12 a day.  so 50 lasts 4 days.  they let him out on wednesday before xmas.  so that’s this evening (saturday)  when they would run out, using his automatic dosage level of 2 every 4 hours (or 1 every 2).  but at this point he’s asking for medicine every 3 hours, so i’m ahead a little.

and a good thing.  wait till i tell you what the doctors did.

they went on vacation.  they went on vacation and couldn’t be reached because they didn’t take their phones (sure).  in this country, only a doctor who sees the  patient can proscribe narcotics.  and they were all on vacation.  the doctor on call wasn’t going to be able to help, and so we have to make due with tylenol until someone can authorize a refill at the pharmacy, because right after i had this conversation with the lady at the doctor’s office, on xmas eve, they went on their xmas break, and now the office is closed.

so we’re going to have to wait until monday to get someone to authorize a refill.  the nurse’s advice was to take him down to the emergency room for more pain meds, but that would mean stuffing him into a trucklet, and we did that bringing him home, so no.  he’s not being moved until he’s scheduled for surgery.

but that’s a fight i’ll have on monday.

we’ve already violated the warranty on the shell.  it’s called a minerva brace, and yesterday jim had to take a screwdriver to the chin brace and stop it from choking him.

of course he’s back to smoking.  i won’t let him smoke unattended, because he nods off and rests his cigarette on the bedsheets, but i will let him smoke a couple in the morning, and one now and then thruout the day.  he’s smoking about a half a pack a day, which is half his usual.

and don’t bitch at me for caving in to his demands to smoke.  he swallows the nicotine gums, which i make him rely on at night because i’ll be damned if i’m going to be up in the middle of the night getting all nasty with smoke while i need to be in bed sleeping.

as far as that goes, i’m all for doping him up all day long so he sleeps.  i just can’t have him being evil, or getting out of bed in his sleep.  i often find him sleeping sitting straight up on the edge of his bed.  it’s frightening.  in that position, he would do a header into the dryer.  if we moved the bed, he would do a header onto the floor.  either way.

and when he’s doing the wrong pharmaceuticals (dosages or timing), the side effects take over, and he sleepwalks, and he gets irrational, and he acts on fantasies he’s having rather than reality, and he gets evil about it if you try to make him stop.  he’s smart, so he’s got an instant reason for why he did whatever you caught him doing (putting his cigarette out on his cast), and it’s convincing to him, but i’m not paying a lot of attention to what he says.  only what he does.

which is sleep most of the day and night.

he’s becoming more lucid and active during the times he’s up, however, and that’s good.  but then when he’s being evil i have to stop him from walking home.  i swear i’d duct tape him to the bed if he wouldn’t wriggle out of it.

in the hospital he wriggled out of his ankle bracelet.  he pulled out his iv, he unwrapped his cast.  all while asleep and unconscious.   i had to tell everyone i saw about his tendency to sleepwalk.  the doctors paid no attention.  the nurses gave me advice.

but as i said he’s becoming more lucid.  so today we wrote down what he’ll be taking when, and except for his insistence on one xanax twice a day, he’ll be lucky to get half of one once a day.  if he can be good.  this evil act of his is horrible.  mister hyde for sure.  otherwise he’s in good spirits, and improving faster than anybody expected.

it’s because he’s feisty.

it’s because he’s an asshole.  if he wasn’t, he’d do what they tell him, and he’d be not pushing.  but he keep saying he’s going to be back to work in two weeks.  and i guess as long as i make him to what they tell him, it can’t be bad that he’s fighting every step of the way.

more later.  i’ve actually got things stable enough to where i can think about continuing my fiction writing.  so now that i’ve updated here, i’m going there.  i’ll be back soon.



  1. Jeanne I am mostly concerned for you and your daughter, the only two that matter to me.

    That must break your heart to see her with those pricks.

    I love you Jeanne.

    Love Renee xoxoo

    • yes and know on the pricks. i hung out with dangerous people when i was her age, and so i understand a lot of what drives her. we are very similar. she is wiser, tho, but more foolhardy, therefore. as far as who matters most, it’s interesting, but jim comes way above the others. greg can go ahead and rebreak his neck when he goes home, that’s fine. allison may or may not live thru her flirtation with danger, and there’s nothing i can do about it. but jim is my partner and my other half, and i’m guarding him like the secret ingredient he is.

      it’s full moon. shit’s hitting the fan again. be sure to be careful of accidents, sharp things, fires, and falls. love, jeanne

      my art blog –

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: