This week I got fed up with taking meds that don't work. In a fit of pique, I went cold turkey off the antidepressant that was supposed to take the edge off the vestibular migraine symptoms. You might say, Carol, was that a wise thing to do? I would respond, possibly not, but I don't care anymore. I'm fed up with this malady. My new remedy is to place both hands over my ears really tight, so I get a good suction going on, and then release my hands. According to Dr. Google.ai, it's called the vacuum technique. It's supposed to equalize the pressure in your ears. The pressure in my ears is fine. I am using the vacuum technique as a substitute for ramming my head into a wall.
I've done my best to be a good guinea pig. I've taken the pills according to the regimen. I've slogged through all the side effects. Sadly, I suspect my trials are not over. I have an appointment with a new neurologist in September. I'm not expecting much. Another round of vestibular testing, another series of useless PT sessions, another suggestion for another ineffective drug. Bla bla bla.
As frustrated as I am, I know it could be much worse. I could live in Texas, for example.
The dogsitting gig in Scottsdale ends Thursday. What comes next? Thanks for asking. Monsoon appears to have arrived in Arizona, which means everywhere in the Southwest will be roiling with unsettled air masses colliding with each other to produce thunderstorms, violent wind events, and torrential downpours. This kind of weather is not conducive to van life.
I don't want to, but I guess I'll be heading back to Oregon. It's not my favorite destination. I still have PTSD over getting my gas tank drilled by gas thieves. Sleeping in a car overnight on a city street is still illegal. To really keep things exciting, there's a new executive order designed to reduce homelessness by incarcerating and/or institutionalizing homeless people. As long as I don't start drinking or doing drugs, I'll probably be okay. If you don't hear from me for a while, though, maybe check the jails around the Portland metro area. I'd appreciate it.
Today I sent emails to the three affordable housing places I can can recall applying to six months ago. The property managers are supposed to send out letters twice a year to update their waitlists. I haven't seen anything yet. Or to be more precise, my brother (who is my acting secretary) hasn't reported receiving anything yet. I fully anticipate I will receive emails from these three property management companies saying something like We have no record of your application. If you would like to apply to our waitlist, please fill out and mail the (nonexistent) form on our (nonfunctional generic website). Please note there are 79 people currently on our waitlist. Openings depend on people dying, and are filled from the waitlist (which just grew to 100 while you were reading this email and now is closed). Thank you for your interest in our (2.3 star-rated) property.
Time out while I administer suction on my head.
