Mouth Like a Trucker

I forget sometimes that I have different facets of my personality. Some of those sides are particularly unlovely. They tend to pop up when I least expect or desire them.

With extreme fatigue from the drugs and the fact that my emotions seem to be right on the surface these days I tend to be this girl when I'm tired, worn out, feel attacked, or just plain old vanilla scared. Even when relatively happy. Go figure.

Yes ma'am, that's me yesterday, mixed in with that hateful trucker with the mouth.

 Yep, me again, just add swear words. I can be a mouthy little thing.

Yesterday I got gripped by sudden fears when Jim and I were walking on the beach, as usual he stomped down hard to the more populately stretch of the beach and I veered the other way, off to the totally abandoned stretch of Playa Grande headed towards the estuary. I like my peace and quiet. I need time alone to decompress and think. I like to wander, stop and watch the sunning crabs and scuttling hermit crabs. I like to pick up shells and sand dollars. I like to pick up the alive sea slug like critters in shells and have them skitter across my hands. I like to pause long enough to watch the pelicans. Jim is all business, pounding out his walk like he's serious. I wander.

Two different walking styles for two different people with two different personalities. Unlike a certain fundytown female cultural enforcer we do not need to trot together in tandem over the sands. His legs are almost a foot longer than mine and he does not stop to wonder. Even if I didn't crave that stretch of alone time it would be foolish because he would be chafing to plung on ahead, while I would be annoyed to have to trot to keep up.

Yesterday, a full week since my ride in the helicopter ambulance to San Jose. I have been feeling a little more than slightly freaked out. If I express that in any way, whine about how utterly exhausted the meds are making me feel, or complain in any way Jim has shown how much he is freaking out by saying something like I'm throwing a pity party.

Dude, I had a stroke. If anyone is entitled to a little freaking out for at least a week or so I think it's me.

Does not help that the first hour we were away from the hospital that Jim asked me if he contributed to the stress that caused the stroke. I thought that was tacky and very uncalled for, even as I could tell he was very guilty feeling and wanted me to manage his guilt by telling him oh no, you are a joy to live with this hard 18 months. I wasn't about to assauge his ego like that, resented him even asking such a thing while I felt horribly shitty from the new meds.

I know, I know, he's dealing and processing too so I need to be patient. Except I have no patience. I'm Sweary the Truck Driver or Crying Girl or Swearing Crying Girl. I'm not capable right now.

He also told Mr and Mrs Satan before I told one of my kids or my mother. I was rather annoyed by that.

On our way to the beach he mentioned calling on the Fat Shaming Old Surfer Dude from a few weeks ago because he lives on that beach. I said I didn't feel well enough to be social and didn't want to hang around all day. We parted. He walked one way, I went to my own private beach that only had me on it yesterday.

I meant to walk only a half hour but noticed as I came back to the main entrance it had been a full hour. No Jim, No Jim anywhere. I was super stupid tired but went looking around the beach, the part he would have walked. De nada, nothing.

Close to an hour later out he pops from the bushes, coming from the area where the houses are. I am out of water, trembling exhaustion in all limbs, furious, crying, scared, and sunbured (just on the back of my neck). I ripped into him the second he got close. Sweary was back~

I don't walk with my cell phone, neither does he, so anything could happen and lord knows I was imaginging everything under the sun.  But the realization that he blew off my post sickness needs to socialize and leave me out in the sun with no way to get more water, or even simply into the car was like adding gasoline to my crying girl, triggering the truck driver in me..

The rest of the day was pretty dire, lots of sulking and pouting from him. I ignored him and behaved like everything was a okay because once the trucker mouth comes out, says her piece and moves on I'm so over it. Plus it uses up energy I don't have right now.

Today when we walked afterward I went into a nearby restaurant and had a drink and a salad so he'd have his time to putter about. This time he checked on me first before his extra things, and he arrived with a beautiful carved coffee cup of Guanacaste wood with a painted on hummingbird. His way of saying sorry, some small trinket. I accepted, of course. Sweary was already put away, but Crying Girl is likely to make a few more appearances. I got home from the beach exhausted again, floated in our pool before laying down to read.

One thing I've done a great deal of this week, read. Books consumed have been a weird bunch from Woodward's "Fear" to Tara Westover's "Education" to one about the serial killer Bender family on the Ingall's family Kansas Territory, to another Holocaust memoir, and the craziest one by a detective chasing the identity of a woman who died as a Jane Doe.

Just Does Not Get It

Today things came to kind of a head again and we had a squabble around noon today. I am not entirely up to speed, and someone seems to think I should be.

I knew when he asked me about if he caused my stroke that he wanted me to absolve him of any stress, but I could not do that, which really pissed him off. I don't care. I cannot pretend. It just takes too much energy.

Why are men so damn selfish? Why is everything in this world revolving around them in their mines. Life tends to disabuse women of the notion of their importance in the universe very quickly, and we realize we're one of many. Men? Not so. They mostly seem to think that the world literally rotates around their ideas, needs, and wants. Many never catch on.

I know he only asked because he was feeling guilty, but there is reason for him to feel guilty. He has been living in fantasy land for nearly two years while I get to do the emotional heavy lifting.

Hard times, man, hard times. But I won't back down.

He will get over it, or he will go.

Sadly Familar

The medication side effects are still here, but not quite as badly.

We're still cleaning up after the water. The floor is fully dry, but it smells pretty funky still. Just mopped with straight up bleach so we'll see if that's good enough. Time for new furniture once the smell goes.

Went to church today even if I'm dragging ass hard still. The exhaustion is overwhelming.

Heard just as I was leaving that someone else in the expat community was having either a heart attack or a stroke. I think I saw them being airlifted from the same airport I was. The air ambulance took off and passed overhead in the afternoon headed for the hospitals of San Jose. I hope they make it.

Still spending a lot of time laying down. But it's kind of nice because Stinky is cuddling me.

What's not so nice is that Jim does not seem to understand that my new reality is a constant state of headache, dizziness and exhaustion. I'm not getting to do this or that, I'm guarding and measuring out my scanty energy for the important things. Like cooking so I can stay on the stroke protocol diet. There has been some yelling on my part.

The gal that sells essential oils immediately started spouting out her version of the stroke protocol of essential oils. I was not having it. Not everything in life is an opportunity to push your mlm. It's like some bizarre cult I have zero patience with.

Saturday Morning Quarter-Backing

I am better. The drugs to deal with the side effects of the drugs I need to take for the stroke have finally started to kick in just a hair. Plus I realized yet again that I am not empress of the universe with the huge and awesome responsibility and duties to do everything.

Had to put down, and let go of the notion that my house must be perfect and rest. Who really cares that it literally stinks because of the water. I managed to get one of the rooms completely stripped and bleached. It's going to take me all week to get it done, and Jim is doing some of it too. No rush. Just us.

I did a few things yesterday and mostly, I rested. Which is apparently what I needed the most.

On a strict diet with no salt and not much good tasting but that's okay. I've been losing for a while now and will continue as it's become more important for my health.

Here's what I'm not doing. Officially 'dieting' with different nutritional fads. I am following the guidelines set by the doctor, not some goofy fad. Goofy fad dieting is likely what got me into this mess. How so?

When I had the stroke I had been on the Keto diet for three weeks. I liked it. I felt good and never hungry, but apparently my body rebelled against it. It works for some, but if you already have health issues you likely should not try it.

The doctors are waiting to see if by changing  my diet to a strict salt free low carb diet if my blood pressure will start to ease down on its own.

Here's the issue with Keto if you have problems. It's high fat, and if you do like I did and have some fermented foods with each meal it will drive your salt intake through the roof. Kidneys are very affected by salt, and regulate the blood pressure. At the time I was airlifted out I was drinking a good six liters a day of bottled water and sugar free drinks. Six. Liters. Now I'm down to just under two per day, which is closer to normal. Clearly something was going haywire in my body and it was not my sugar level, which is normal now.

So now we're in wait and see if changing the diet and taking the drugs will work. I am hoping as I have changed the diet that I'll be able to gradually taper off the drugs and stop them. Too many horrid side effects if yesterday morn when I was ranting here is anything to go by.

Here's my takeaway from the experience.Better to just eat healthier and smaller portions than try to game your body by eating only certain things. Moderation is more the key. Fads are fads, and they make work for some, but can harm you if you are not careful.

I feel like such a stupid sap, virtuously sneering at that awful high salt Jilly Juice diet while cramming my maw with high salt items. No one needs that much salt.

Not So Vile

Right after I threw out that whine it occurred to me that I don't have to do anything but stay white and eventually die. I put down everything and rested. It was what I needed to do. Feeling much better. Still having crappy medication side effects but I'm not bawling or thinking about death.

Vile

The medicine is making me feel vile. That's the only word for it. Every simple motion, from taking the clothes off the line or just folding them exhausts me beyond belief.

I do have a lady that comes in and helps part time, but she has a bad back. I get her to clean the bathrooms and dust the furniture and the woodwork. The rest I do. Now I cannot because of the medication side effects.

Jim does some. But sometimes just creates more mess and chaos than he addresses.

Women from the chuich have offered to help, but I cannot allow them to see the sink filled with dirty dishes and the muddy floors now that Jim's removed the floodwaters. Mopping is way way way out of the question right now and I know I would fret and end up going behind Jim.

Fifteen years ago I popped a couple of 130/85 blood pressures and the doctor put me on the lowest levels of blood pressure meds. In the three months I was on the meds I felt th is horrible and it never lifted. I was taken off the meds when I fainted at the doctors office and the top number on my blood pressure was well below a hundred.

They keep telling me that this is feeling normal.No it is not.I will not be able to stand these side effects long before checking out.

They added a drug to deal with the side effects. It worked well last night, but not today. I feel worse than  ever.

Backstroke

If you've not read about my crazy week I suggest you go here and then return.  I can tell by the high number of shares that Rachel Coleman's fans, the ladies that love Jinger and Fundytown  are all talking. Good. Gives them something to do for today. Everyone deserves to be amused.

Yes, yes, I had a mini stroke.

The funny of it all is that I just do not take myself as seriously as others have. Example? Monday morn, right in the middle of this ridiculous crisis that I was initially refusing to accept was a crisis a handsome young man stood over my prone almost naked body. He held an industrial sized jar of KY Jelly, dabbling it here and there while I laughed and thought too bad he's just attaching EKG electrodes. This was not the scenario I ever imagined with a handsome guy and KY Jelly.

I felt fine before, during and after the stroke. Now I don't feel so fine at all. The medications are screwing with me horribly. How horribly? Well I am out here eating sugar free yogurt and a salt free rice cake for dinner while Jim's in the house tucking into a New York strip steak and steamed veggies,.. and salad.. and rolls. I'm not forbidden from eating those foods, in fact I made sure I cooked super healthy, no salt, plentious veggies and those cracked wheat whole wheat rolls I make. It's just the moment I started grilling the steaks my stomach started doing some very queasy barrel rolls inside my torso.

Since they started the meds I've been barely able to eat, and sometimes cannot hold much down. Which made our bus trip back from San Jose, erm, 'interesting' Imagine a five hour bus ride with nausea and random dry heaving into a plastic bag.

I was also pretty upset. The hospital demanded a nearly 5K deposit last night before they would release me, which I found out today was not supposed to happen since our insurance has a catastrophic illness clause that is picking up the hospital bill fully.

Jim chose the second we were sitting in the bus station to hostilely question me over if he was adding to my stress levels. Like that is not going to add to my stress levels?

 I told him truthfully that he was before melting down in tears. Hostile words exchanged about the huge hospital bill. I knew it was wrong, but had to wait until this morning to verify that with the insurance company. I was released too late in the day to call the U.S. to ask.

Why is it that men always seem to chose the exact wrong moment to have those big discussions? Nothing he could have said would have been appropriate in that moment as I felt beat up. How beat up? My arms are a hot mess from the vein hunt by the nurse to insert the IV, plus the five zillion automatic blood pressure tests bruising up my arms.  It got so bad that during that first night they had to switch the blood pressure cuff to my foot to get a reading and not bruise me any longer. Are not bleeding disorders a barrel of fun?? I had no idea you can get a blood pressure reading from a foot or leg, but you can.

I cannot blame him however. It seems like I've spent my entire life fending off men doing stupid things like suddenly stammering out "I have always loved you!" at the exact moment I am freaking out over something at work.  Or other inappropriate inanities at exactly the wrong moment while I have my "Are you mentally deranged??" glare going on.

One thing did go very right in last night's ride home. Jim had made sure to call and schedule a taxi for the rest of the way home. Because we were leaving so late last night we were only able to take the bus as far as Santa Cruz. about forty minutes from Tamarindo.

We also found out that the banks here shut down their ATM around ten pm to hold down on robberies, which meant it took every penny both of us had to pay the cabby. But it was a pleasant ride, we talked to the driver and his sweet teenage daughter.

Once we got home, got in the security gate and hit the front door it was obvious something very bad had happened. Stinky was at the glass door wailing, it wasn't the usual 'How dare you leave me alone for three whole days with a big bowl of food and a clean litter box!' and more 'OMG I AM SO CONFUSED AND FREAKED OUttttttttt!!!!!!!!!' Opened the door, he shot out and water flowed out.

The pipe that pumps fresh water into our toilet tank ruptured and the entire house with the exception of our master suite was a good inch deep in water. And I've just been told by the neurologist to keep calm? From about midnight to nearly 2 am we shop vacced, swept and mopped water out of the house. It finally dawned on me I was not doing my stroked out self any favors so I went to bed, leaving the rest for Jim. He's gotten much of it out, but will have to finish tomorrow morn, while I have to throw out all my crocheting yarn, a tv, and assorted other things that got drenched and will never be right again.

We will have to replace most of the furniture, which I'm not upset about, I'm pretty happy about that as it was mostly worn out leftovers left by the previous owners. No bad thing happens that does not have a good result somewhere.

Today was all follow ups with the doctor, getting additional meds to try and kill my med side effects and going to the grocery store to get things I now need I didn't before, like an industrial sized vat of Mrs. Dash. I'm about to pop the first of the anti nausea drugs and hop into the bed to read. My vision is back.

Tomorrow we will be at the custom furniture place to start the task of refurnishing the house.

I  did discover one thing out of this. I think it wasn't helped by the fact I'd been eating Keto for three weeks and downing a lot of fermented (and highly salted) foods. Yep, I may have seriously exacerbated this stroke by the way I was eating. Apparently the diet is hard on the kidneys, which in turn control the blood pressure. Which might explain how I suddenly have high blood pressure after 58 years of low blood pressure issues.

I did freak out the poor little physician's assistent at my doctor's office. My oxygen levels are bouncing around too. They had to put me on oxygen the entire time I was in the hospital. The girl kept muttering there was something wrong with the O2 stat measuring device. I had to point out it's just my crappy lungs again.

My Eyes Have Had It

I'm a little better after my Thursday night hissy fit over rehearsals.

It's funny but Friday morning Jim was out filling up our car (looming general strike here) and ran into the worship team leader who immediately started ranting about my voice. I was glad to hear that because I could hear I was not at 100% even if we got a good blend in our voices. When the asthma's bad I get bad tempered, plus I have no patience with men.

We are in waiting mode to see if there is going to be a general strike. If it happens we will not be able to get gas, take a bus or taxi, go to the doctors offices, and a host of other things. It's going to shut down the entire tourist industry, so there is that, which means I'll have to encounter less folks on the beach.

I hope it does not shut down the cat\s doctor's office. He was bitten by a big iguana a few days ago and so far it's scabbed over and looks like it's healing, so I'm hoping we don't need to take him in.

The guys of the church left for a spear fishing trip this afternoon, a full day before scheduled to avoid the strike. I plan to stay home and paint.

Likely a good thing considering I kind of had words with a new lady in the community. She made the mistake of trying to spam me requests to buy essential oils from her, and pitched it again after church. I cannot tell you much I hate these MLM essential oil companies. Exploiting people up and down the line.