Dream

It's Monday and it's a holiday in Puerto Rico today. July has several of them. I wish it was a holiday here, so I could get the day off, go lie on a beach and imagine the water is nice and blue.

Sunday dinner

Like we say in Puerto Rico: que jartera...

We had steak, roasted herb potatoes with tons of butter and olive oil, and green beans with garlic. Plus pecan pie. I can't move now.

Highlights of my day

In the morning I had this test done. I hate doing all these kinds of tests. They make me feel old and fragile, and I have to reassure myself that everything going to be alright and it's just a short test.

Then in the afternoon, this came out. And this, and this. Amazing how the same story can be presented in such different terms (judging by the headlines, at least).

Two weeks to go, buddy

For a moment, I thought of changing my name across all platforms (Blogger, Facebook, Twitter, wherever else I'm plugged) to Samantha Bell (as in Sam Bell). It would certainly match my mood.

Outside sources

I guess feeling especially down, anxious and/or desperate in the middle of the week is not such a strange ocurrence, as this blog post from The Awl on suicide rates by day of the week indicates.

Wednesday

Feeling better in terms of my asthma. I am regularly doing the breathing treatments my allergist prescribed. I am also suspecting that heartburn and its effects are the biggest challenge I have.

Not feeling so good in terms of mood. I was in a positive, hopeful mood on Monday. Tuesday was an OK day, spent working from home. The best way to describe my mood this morning is to say I feel as if someone had rubbed a balloon all over me, quite jumpy.

Beautiful Moon

We had a beautiful moon last night. I tried to capture it as best I could.



I have the moon on my mind a lot lately. Last Friday I watched the movie "Moon" with Sam Rockwell. It was great, an intelligent, thought-provoking, emotionally wrenching sci-fi movie. If it plays in your area, I recommend it.

One thing leads to another

This:

http://io9.com/5307512/your-smile-will-be-monitored-to-evaluate-quality-of-service

suggests we may be going down a dangerous path that could someday lead to this:



FYI: I did not come up with this by myself. Credit should be due to the commenter on io9 who made the initial connection.

Still ailing

On Thursday I bit the bullet and went back to my allergist, whom I had not seen since 2006. Of course she was not very happy with me disappearing and letting a regular doctor take charge of my allergy/asthma treatment. She ordered me to stop using three of the medications prescribed by the other doctor, and prescribed two others in their place.

One of the meds she instructed me to stop taking is Singulair, a drug for which the FDA has recently issued a new warning related to neuropsychiatric side effects. I got nervous about this, because I have been taking Singulair for a long time and I have always felt that it works. When I mentioned my concerns, my doctor said "well, it's not working now, is it?" How can I argue with that? I am not doing well lately with my asthma. And I have experienced some of the symptoms included in the FDA list.

Except that I now fear without it things could get even worse. I have not exactly been feeling peachy since I saw my allergist. I know the new breathing treatments she prescribed are having effect, in the sense that I feel my chest opening up. But the cough and congestion are not going anywhere, and my chest and throat feel sore. Also, I notice now that my esophagus feels funny.

I had a horrible night last night, waking up several times during the night and having pretty disturbing dreams, one of which starred my husband as a manipulating, cold and evil sociopath. It scared me greatly and brought me to tears.

I am highly emotional today. I woke up Gabe after my nightmare and subjected him to my list of fears for my well being. Others may consider my fears to be irrational or greatly exaggerated. He patiently listened to it all, then made me breakfast.

It is possible that today's outbursts have been a little hormonally-driven, but at this point I have no way of gauging whether they are sensible concerns or out of proportion terrors. Justified or not, these fears for my well being are very real. I can't stop thinking about death. I am terrified of dying and have cried my eyes out today. Teary-eyed even as I sit writing this, I am on the verge of falling apart, and remain convinced that the only thing keeping me from letting go, from relinquishing my reason and giving in to the siren song of hysteria is the thought of my girls.

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