Biology

After having almost all of my blood removed from my body, we now know only a tiny bit more than we knew previously:

1. I have too much vitamin D in my blood. Near toxic levels. STOP taking the vitiamin D supplement.

2. I have not enough zinc in my blood. Take a zinc supplement.

3. I either did, do, will, or will never have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. But I am VERY tired.

4. My adrenals are fatigued.

5. I have "considerable, global bone-loss" in my mouth.

6. Despite #5, there is no reason to believe that I have a bone density problem. Despite that, I'm being sent for bone density tests.

7. I have anxiety. Really, really, like seriously FUCKING BAD anxiety. A permanent life-style change is in order or I am just not going to get better.

Great.

And so I am reminded that doctors are just people too.

Yogish

At the advice of a health-care practitioner, I am trying yoga. I hated the first time. But today was actually pretty good. I think the key is let go of wanting to to excel or even do well. This eliminates the whole idea of competition from the brain. Then I was open to allowing another person, a woman and a stranger, to nurture and encourage me. Nothing to prove.

It was kind of fucking awesome.

Wax-Off

I decided to take a break from classes this semester to recover from the exhaustion. It was absolutely the right choice. Before the break I was  unable to sleep more than 5 hours a night (when I was lucky) and walking through thick brain fog every day. I realized I could no longer fool myself into thinking I was recovered from the month's rest in August when I got laryngitis and was using the fact that I couldn't speak audibly to cover up that I was blanking out in class, in social situations, and worst of all, in therapy. I also knew I was in trouble when I stared at a stats assignment for 50 minutes completely unable to grasp what was being asked of me. That might be normal for many people, but it ain't for me! So yeah, meetings were set up, doctor's were revisited, and decisions were made.
It was time to take a semster OFF.

This decision was backed up by the fact that I was recently diagnosed with chronic fatique by a specialist at a renowned Environmental Health Clinic in a hoity-toity hospital. December was the month of specialists -- Dr. Dentist informed me that my immune system had crashed so badly that I had "dramatic and considerable bone loss" in my mouth and that I "should expect my teeth to start falling out soon. Dr. Psychologist (my new/better therapist) diagnosed me with C-PTSD. Any of these diagnoses would have been sufficient to scare me out of the classroom. When I step back and look at them, it is easy to see how they are all related and contribute to one another.

Dr. Supervisor was extremely supportive. Our Director of Clinical Training practically insisted I take the semester off when I told her about my 2012. Then she blew so much sunshine up my butt that all fears of doing so creating weird academic problems for me disappeared. I finished up my one take-home exam (24 single-spaced pages on complex-systems approaches) and dropped next semester's courses, including multivariate statistics -- a full-year course of which I have finished half. Sigh... I cannot keep the marks or even guarantee I'll get the same section next year. I have to take the whole thing over again. I dropped a math course! THAT is how serious I am about recovery.

I wanted to completely put aside all of my academic responsibilities, but it just wasn't possible, or wise. I have a lab up and running at The Org. and two undergraduate students who count on me for their own research practica. I like my research and it's one of the few things that makes me happy and excited. Besides, now that I no longer work there, The Org. has become this friendly, enjoyable place to be. So I'm going to be there 12 hours a week instead of the usual 20. Therapy with the few clients I had the Children's Mental Health Centre ended naturally before the break -- except in one case. So I'm continuing to see one 5-year-old girl with anxiety for the forseeable future. Other than those two things, I have no official school-type responsibilities. At least not for MY education.

Continuing to do research work allows me to remain enrolled in a research practicum and therefore continue my scholarship (very important if the mortgage is going to get paid every month). I also have to keep my TAship... Mr. Husband doesn't have health insurance through his work, so my unionized TA is the only way for us to have any health coverage. Given that I have just been diagnosed with three fairly serious health conditions, I thought I might be needing that drug and professional medical services coverage. I can't imagine what we'd do if there was an emergency with either of us and we didn't have health insurance (and I live in Canada... I have no idea how people do this in the states). The point is, I still have to TA. So I've gone from working an insane 50-60 hours a week down about 24. I wish I could just totally stop, but we'd lose the house if I didnt' have some income and not having health insurance is just not smart right now, so here I am.

That's the updatey part. All nice and facty-wacty for you. But in subjective news, I'm struggling. Interrupting school has been hard on my sense of self. So has slowing down into recovery mode. Now that I can actually stop doing all the time, I feel worse than when I was go-go-go. Although, someone pointed out to me that I may feel about the same but just actually have the time to notice it now. My instructions are to rest and listen to my body. I'm taking some meds/supplements and have to meditate and do a stretching program every day. I have an appointment to see about my teeth in a few months ("unless one falls out first... then come see me...") Lots and lots of follow-up shite to come. Oh, and yoga... they said once I start to get some energy back that I should start to do yoga. Will do.

Update complete. I hope that future posts will focus on how I'm actually doing, and maybe even wax theoretical about the whole situation. Until then, rest well.

I Thought I Was Supposed To Learn In School?

It occurs to me that graduate school is more of an acreditation process than an education process. The idea is to survive, not to excell. That really pisses me off. Professors and administrators make it out to look like you are really going to LEARN something. So far, most of the things I've learned have been repeats of the "hard life lessons" I already learned in my first job and trying to make it in the entertainment industry: people can be user-jerks, if you want to make sure something gets done do it yourself, keep your ass covered.

I spent a total of 21 hours over this past weekend trying to do a multivariate stats assignment. Now, I was sick last week, so I contacted the professor and made sure that I got a copy of his lecture notes. I contacted two of my classmates to talk through the notes to make sure I had understood the material. Then I started the assignment...

I had no fucking clue what was being asked of me. I knew it involved matrix algebra (which I know how to do), but I had no idea HOW to do the problem at hand. I'm resourceful, determined, and relentless, so I went back to the notes, re-did the class labs, you know to make sure I REALLY understood what was taught. Still had no idea what to do. So I emailed with my classmates. Huh, funny, they didn't know what to do either. We set up a google+ hangout to see if we could put our heads together. 5 hours later, we were collectively no farther ahead. We emailed the professor. TWO DAYS later, he emails the class to say that he "probably" hasn't given us enough information to complete the assignment and gives us instructions about creating two new matrices. That's it. I still have no fucking idea what I'm doing. I've read the labs and the class notes more than 8 times each now.

How exactly am I learning anything?

Sweet Sister

Through all the loss and grief and just stupid grad-school shit I dealt with over the course of 2012, my best friend was there. I don't get to see her nearly one-tenth as much as I would like because we live in different geographical locations. But whenever we talk, it is as if time stood still to wait for us to catch up to each other's place in time. She is a stable, steadfast source of consistency and care in my life. A treasure. A heaven-sent fucking piece of pure everything-that-is-good-about-humanity. And right now she is sick. Really, really, REALLY fucking sick and in pain and despair and waiting in our socialized medicine system for care that she desperately needs 12 months ago.

When I think about what she is going through, what she is coping with, I am humbled. She faces this demon with such honesty and humanity. Grace even in her dark times.

So listen to me, 2012. I've had enough of you jerking me around. You've messed with me at school, at practicum, you've messed with my body and my family, my relationships and my head. Well, guess what? We're done. Hands off of her.

She's fucking awesome, so deal, bitches.

I know too much about math in general, and statistics specifically, to buy into "bad luck." I'm just sayin'...

This woman has stood by me, gone out of her way to help and comfort me despite being in such a rough way herself. Perspective.

Forgotten Post - I wrote this somtime last winter/spring before the miscarriage

The absence was due to stress and illness invoking their unholy reciprocal relationship with each other upon my life once more. I very nearly fell apart around Christmastime. I feel like I still might. I find myself thin-skinned and snapping at all the people I care about. I want to go home but sometimes I feel like I wonder where that is. This isn't about grad school. This is about me.

I had a run of what most people would call "bad luck" back in December. I was assaulted after leaving work by an extremely mentally ill person. It's ironic because I had just left the Institute, where all the 'crazy people' should have been safely locked up unable to do themselves or others harm. But I was accosted on the street about 30 seconds away from where I would have boarded transit. This could be a whole post on its own. Maybe one day it will be. A few days later, a friend took me to a spa to relax and unwind. During my massage, I was sexually assualted by the RMT. I'm furious about it now, but at the time, I was paralyzed with... sigh, I guess most people say "fear," but it wasn't fear. It was uncertainty. I kept telling mself that what was happening wasn't assault, and that I was just overreacting because I had been accosted by that man a few days ago. But when I left the massage room, I immediately started crying. Yeah, it was wrong, what happened in there. I'm following up on both of these ordeals, but really wish I could just sweep them under the rug and forget them. I have new profound respect for women who deal with stuff that is so much more serious than this. What I went through was peanuts compared to some, but I'm still all nerves and shakey transference reactions becuase of it.

We spent 5 days over Christmas is one of the worst states in America with Mr. Husband's dad. The "vacation" involved a semi-automatic weapon and being awoken Christmas morning by drunken/high tennants, and more than one call to the police department. FIL remains blissfully deaf and ignorant that we had a shitty time. I remain astonished that it took him a little over a year to ask his son how he was doing since his mom died FOR THE FIRST TIME. Did I mention that about ten minutes before my plane took off that Mummer called my cellphone to tell me that my dad has been diagnosed with frontal lobe syndrome/dysexecutive sydrome and that it is very advanced and started crying at me? There were no Christmas gifts in the states because FIL declared it what HE wanted. I also had to go out and buy all of my own food because he didn't bother to get any gluten-or-dairy-free groceries in the condo. So yeah, very merry indeed.

When we got back home, we hosted Christmas dinner for my family. It was very hard to see my father so far gone and... well, he's not really *there* that much anymore. It's like having dinner with a ghost image. He's regressing quite a bit as well, so there is drooling and incontenence and other not-s0-fun things for the family to deal with. Despite that, I have to admit that this might have been the best Christmas I have EVER had with my family becuase no one fought the entire day. No one really tried to get under each other's skin or push each others' buttons. It was like we were all just too tired for that. So yeah, a Christmas dinner where absolutely no one yelled or cried in my family. A first. So that's something...

I returned to work slowly, I went to do my research day at The Org. and get this: I got called into the HR Lady's office to talk. Apparently, someone put in an HR complaint because they were offended by something I said in one of my research presenations to staff. While discussing the concept of schaddenfreude, the fear of which can prevent people in high SES groups from seeking help for mental health issues, I joked, "Let it to [us] Germans to invent a word that means 'taking delight in the misfortune of others." I thought it was a fairly benign joke, and being of German heritage myself thought that I could get away with it in the same way that many cultural groups and commedians are allowed to make fun of themselves. What an HR lecture I got! At one point, I wanted to say to the HR Lady, "Uh, you know I don't work here anymore right? Like, The Org. does not pay me or employ me." But I bit my tongue and responded in the prescribed way remarking that I understood that it doesn't matter what my intentions are, it's how my comment was experienced by someone else. Later, I found out, that the person who made the complaint actually didn't care at all about what I said, but only did it to get back at someone in management for getting them in trouble for calling another staff member a Nazi. I can guess, but I'm not certain who it was. But I'm dying to know... for I would love to have a word with this individual about not using me as a pawn in their childish game of Fuck-People-Over-At-Work Chess.

Of course, I got sick again the day that my family came over for dinner and have had a cold/sinus infection ever since. I am tired. I am grouchy. I am soooo think-skinned and whiny and wah wah wah I feel all alone and misunderstood pathetic right now, that it is really really very sad. And now work is starting to pile up and I feel like my shoulder muscles are made from cast iron. I can't seem to start anything. I can't seem to get anything going that I need to. I'm arguing and fighting with my husband.

At A Loss For Cute Aliases

I don't yet have a cute alias for my new practicum supervisor, but I need one. It is now 4 weeks into my intervention practicum at this new site, and I have logged a massive total of 3.5 hours. That's not even direct service hours. That is total hours I've spent on-site. Period. I'm supposed to spend 8 hours a week there (one day a week with the option to come in on Saturdays if that is the only time a client can keep an appointment).

Day One: I check in the week before my first day to inquire what time I should arrive and if there was anything I should do to prepare for my first day. The response? My new supervisor hadn't got around to preparing for my being there and had her hands full with the new assessment practicum student. Could I please wait and start next week? I didn't really have a choice. It's not like I have any power in this situation and the new supervisor is doing me a favour by even agreeing to have me at the setting. Sure no problem! See you next week.

Day Two: I check in a few days before my new first day via email. I'm told not to arrive until 11am because my new supervisor will be busy doing an assessment and working with the assessment practicum student. No problem! I plan to come in for 11 and schedule another meeting at 9 am. Sometime between 9 and 10, I get an email (unbeknownst to me because I am in transit and in another meeting) from my new supervisor telling me not to arrive until 12:30 because she forgot that the assessment would run until noon and she has a meeting from 12 - 12:30. I do not get this email because I haven't undergone the surgery to make my smartphone part of my living brain. I arrive at 11 and am told by reception that there is no desk or office at which to put me -- I can't even wait in the waiting room because it is full -- I need to go away and come back in 1.5 hours. No problem! I go to the chiropractor and check in on some paperwork for my gym membership. I come back at 12:30. My new supervisor is clearly struggling to manage her schedule. We chat briefly about the feedback session she'll do and she throws me a file to look over whilst she runs off to another meeting. All the while she is talking to me, she is checking her own smartphone. She returns, I sit in on a feedback session with a family of an child with autism for two hours. Great! That's what I'm supposed to be doing. But uh-oh! My new supervisor has another meeting for half an hour. She suggests that I go watch some IBI therapy in practice with the ABA specialist. Okay, this isn't really why I'm here as I'm not training to be an IBI therapist. And hey, don't get me wrong, IBI is awesome and IBI therapists are a special cross between working-with-chidren-black-belts and angels and work really hard! But they are trained with much less theory and at the college level. I'm a PhD student in clinical psychology. I will never actually DO IBI therapy with anyone. Still, what else am I going to do while I wait, so I go... That's fine. I return to my new supervisor's office with the ABA specialist. I then sit in on their supervision session... Again, o-kay... Then my new supervisor tells me she has two therapy cases to attend to and I think, "Yay, here we go now learning the actual work!" But then she says that it is the middle of therapy and she hasn't broached the topic of having me sit in and she doesn't want to do that with these clients anyway. So I can go home. I briefly chat with the assessment student (who is junior to me in our academic lab) who laughs about how disorganized our new supervisor is. But hey, at least she is learning something and acruing hours.

Day 3: Again, I check in a few days before Tuesday to see what time I should arrive at the setting. I get an email response from my new supervisor saying she forgot to tell me but it is a holiday in her culture on Tuesday and she won't be in. I'm free to go in and watch IBI if I want. Uh-huh. I politely decline and agree to pick up a teaching gig for another professor who is also on holiday that day and needs someone to sub his class. My new supervisor tells me that she will also be away the next week, for another holiday.

Day 4: Like clockwork, I check in a few days before Tuesday to see what the schedule is and if I should maybe go in to watch IBI (even though that would be me just mindlessly gaining hours for something that would not actually be supervised by the psychologist, nor really useful to my learning). My new supervisor tells me she will check on Monday. At 10pm on Monday, I send her an email saying that since I haven't heard from her, I assume that there are no opportunities that day, so I'll stay home. I mention that I really hope there will be something next week because my program expects that I will be "more active" in the practicum by now. I get a terse email back the next morning saying that she has already explained to me that it will be a slow start to the fall and that I'm only there one day a week so it is difficult to get me therapy cases. She adds that the IBI people don't work Mondays so she was unable to check in with them about observing. Less than an hour after said email, I get a voice mail saying that the other psychologist is doing a consult at 1pm today and I should email her if I want to attend. So I do. I mention that I can come at 12:30 to briefly meet before the consult as I have NOT ACTUALLY MET this psychologist. This psychologist emails me one line: "I'm with a client until 1pm." I respond: No problem! I'll come for 1pm and thank you for having me. I arrive at 1pm. She's on the phone so I wait. She then gets a bit irritated when I don't magically know that she is off the phone. I go into her office and she explains that she has no information about this consult and will be finding her way as they go along, and that they client has not been briefed that I will be there so she'll have to ask her permission. The client arrives. This psychologist does a very poor job of explaining why I am there and I get the impression she is more than irritated that she has to deal with me last minute. The client is a mother of a girl with anxiety. The mother declines to have me sit in on the case or indeed this initial consultation. Time at practicum site: 5 minutes. Time it took me to drive to practicum site: 30 minutes. Amount I am pissed off: 4 X 8 hours - 3.5 hours I actually did practicum-related activities on Day 2 = 28.5 hours.

I am 28.5 hours pissed off right now.