Psyched Out - Unknowingly Committed to Insanity / Deluge / (Imminent?) Freedom

Not Redacted, Not Retracted

I discovered on Friday that my medical diagnosis in my personal medical file includes the following gems: personal history of covid-19, personality disorder, somatization disorder, general anxiety disorder, delusional disorder, other hallucinations, and artificial openings of the gastrointestinal tract!

That doesn't sound promising, now does it?

Nope. They never expunged the previous false diagnoses from my record after having nearly committed me to the psych ward because… well, they thought I was faking my illness. Remember that unfortunate adventure? Well, sure you do. The in-house head psychiatrist and the psychiatry staff really did a number on me.

When questioning staff regarding this issue (my diagnosis remaining the same), the preliminary response was that they could never remove a diagnosis from my permanent record.

Can you believe it? Of course, this is a preliminary response. I plan on pursuing this matter further. Because it's possible that when I'm explaining medical matters to the nurses on duty (as well as visiting physicians), they don't believe much of what I say because, obviously, I am absolutely fucking nuts… according to their chart.

And also, and much worse than that, each time I go to a doctor's appointment, these documents accompany me. So all over the Arizona expanse, any number of medical professionals believe I have numerous debilitating psychological or psychiatric issues.

This makes sense, based on the way my previous neurologist interacted with me. Each time I went to visit him, he asked if I had any major psychiatric issues (which I continually denied). And then he questioned me accordingly. Fortunately, he did not dismiss me out of hand. Well, at least the test results supported my claim(s).

The more I think about being mislabeled, the more upsetting it is. And as I mentioned in previous blog entries, the psychiatrist who came up with these diagnoses admitted (months later) that he was very wrong, and he's apologized on several occasions since. Yes, he's explained that he completely 100% misjudged me early on… but apparently not enough so to correct the mistake.

Another thought…. Strategically speaking, perhaps this misdiagnosis will lead to a positive outcome regarding disability compensation (somewhere down the line). Seriously. I mean, having issues with mysteriously debilitating muscle weakness, severe gastroparesis, and severe post-exertional malaise has gotten me absolutely nowhere for the past decade plus.

UPDATE: I spoke with the psychiatrist yesterday, and he said he would reconsider his "incorrect" diagnosis. What I find fascinating is that this diagnosis was made 10 days after I arrived to the nursing home, or …after a single initial visit with the psychiatrist and staff. That's how quickly they were to determine what was wrong with me, psychologically.

Stocked and Bloated

I super duper no longer need medical supplies. At all. I just received a 10-pack of Calcium Alginate dressing from one of my sisters, as well as a very large box of 4x4 split gauze (from a mysterious contributor). The gauze will likely last into the next calendar year!

*Just found out "Mysterious Contributor" was the person with whom I used to be married

Cheers 'n' Chairs

My newly assigned primary physician shall be granting me exclusive permission to roam the universe, as soon as my wheels arrive. Of course, the in-house physical therapy director will have to sign off on this as well, but everyone here thinks that's a given… as long as I can operate the darned thing, while fending off gravity concerns.

I'm starting to feel the excitement, but I am also wary, as disappointment lurks among the striated shadows of abundance amidst fractured seams … whatever the hell that means!

STOP THE PRESSES! {Surprisingly amazingly fantastic news that may actually be true}

My power chair (wheelchair) is scheduled to arrive tomorrow.

Seriously. That's what they told me. This is not make believe. And I absolutely cannot believe this may really be happening. Nope, I still can't. It's been a couple of days since they told me. And I don't even know what to think, nor what to feel. As each of you knows, I haven't been able to get out of bed by myself since 2015.

Originally I wasn't scheduled to get the chair until the end of September. But they put it on a rush order. And then, I suppose, they put it on Super Rush status.

I do not know how to feel right now. In some ways, this potential freedom is overwhelming. Or it's a reminder. Or something. Very emotional.

Back when I still lived in my former home….

My final time leaving my bed for any other reason (besides going to the hospital via ambulance) was to see my son play baseball, back in 2014.

In order to make it work, I had to lay flat on the backseat of the car the entire time, including during the baseball game itself. With the back door partially open I watched him pitch from a few hundred feet away. And while watching, I cried a fair amount. I cried because I knew it would be the last time I ever saw him play. My imminent demise was progressive, yet super slow.

Upon returning home (I didn't last the whole game), I had to wait until my stepdaughter arrived, so both she and my wife would carry me up the stairs and back into the bedroom.

Painful memories.

Easy Bake

Right now I'm outside, waiting for the smoking people to smoke. It's super hellishly humid outdoors, here in the desert. And it's been this way for most of the past 14 days. Plentiful monsoon moisture funneling up through Mexico and points beyond. Excess moisture… but not all that much rain. Although I'll take 100° every single day of the week, because 100° with humidity beats the hell out of 115° and bone dry conditions.

With the diminished heat, I am now able to remain outdoors until 11:00 a.m. And then also, I can go back outside at sunset.

But here's the thing. My outdoor comfortability is being cramped. You see, we have a new resident that does nothing but talk talk talk talk. A LOT! He talks about himself, and his past life adventures (mostly having to do with heavy artillery, helicopters, and machinery (his current/former job) … And yes, apparently he's still a real person in the real world. He's going to get out of here, and back out there, probably soon.

Anyway, I don't say much at all in his presence, besides adding color to his running commentary. Insert here. Plug in there. Ask for clarification regarding terminology and technologically. It's manly stuff, mostly. I can play that role to the hilt when necessary.

So in a sense, I do participate. I help the story along. In any scenario where I am listening intently, I at least need to understand basic matters of the subject.

As this juncture, I understand the ins and outs of the operation myself, enough so, to run the business on my own! Or in the least, I could the employed by the organization without sounding unreasonably out of place. Yep, three weeks of intense conversational training may somehow be beneficial in my future.

Listening this way, I am gathering information that I could utilize in my own writing. And I think that's what I do as part of my socialization skill set. If I'm not going to be actively participating, I at least want to learn, so much that I can file away the information for a later time at a later date.

(Impeding Speed) Bumps

Physically, I am going through a rut. I've had to stop eating orally. I think my duodenum is blocked. Obstructed. Something. Not sure. It happens from time to time. So I've been off the food for several days. Despite never really being able to eat much at all, my mouth is hungry. My lips are bored. My tongue is tasteless. So there's that.

Generally speaking, the issue resolves itself, eventually. Typically. Perhaps I need more direct sunlight. But really, that's all I got. Tucson, or not to Tucson.


Nope. That was supposed to be - To sun, or not to sun? That's the question.

Wet World (Previous Saturday)

It's super humid inside my room … the humidity is registering 70% indoors after the deluge. We finally got our downpour, receiving 1.23 inches in 20 minutes! In comparison, during the entire calendar year of 2022 we'd only received 1.11 inches of rain total (local measuring gauge). Crazy stuff, right?

So the water was pouring in just above my bed at the top left of the window pane. As a result of the flood, I lost my collection of 4x4 bandages, my optifoam samples, and my calcium alginate supply (since replaced, see above).

I didn't lose anything else in the windowsill flood. So I suppose the next step is determining if there's any water damage or potential mold growth in the future. Maintenance has been informed, and they should be here on Monday. Possibly. I suspect.

My mouth is dry, so I should probably stop talking into my phone. I should probably shut off my brain, now that it's 4:53 in the morning. On Sunday's, there's no telling who's going to show up, and how helpful they might be. I know Betsy isn't scheduled.


My bed is stuck. It's pushed too closely against the wall. So now I am stuck in a lowered position, which will make it extremely difficult to use the bedside commode. In addition, the trash can is wedged underneath my bed, which is also blocking direct access to the commode! Uughhhh!!! So now I wait.

I pushed my red button, but apparently, we are shorthanded again. Someone likely called off. Maybe they got flooded out of their houses. I don't know. The flash flooding has ceased. And the streets should be safe by now. The washes aren't running any longer, at least not too swiftly or deeply. And yes, looking outside my window, there's mud everywhere. But still, I expect the CNAs to show up, eventually.

At least the pain has subsided, for now. I slept in additional 90 minutes… with my industrial strength ear muffs on. And my fan blowing loudly and strong, in efforts to muffle my excessively and exceedingly loud neighbors.

Dora was moaning and groaning and yelling off and on, all night long. So too was Room 125. What did each of them want? A glass of water with ice. And the other wanted a glass of water without ice. Of course, they had glasses of water right next to their bed, but those glasses and that water wasn't good enough. Apparently. Or something. But that's what you get here. Sometimes. As these elderly people are doing the best they can.

Meanwhile, I just need someone to show up in my room to help me out. But weekends are tough sometimes.


That didn't take long. Good timing, too. Today's CNA came in and helped nudge the bed away from the wall, which allowed me to adjust the bed, which freed the trash receptacle underneath, and thus creating a clear pathway. Now the issue is resolved. Hooray!

And now I think he thinks I'm a troublemaker. Seriously. Or maybe it's that he read my chart. My diagnosis.

The thing is, I've got all day long to change his mind. Not that that's my primary objective. But perhaps I can convince him that I'm not insane.

Caught Up

So now we are into August. Meanwhile, you missed a momentous weekend. The police were here due to a physical altercation between staff members. We had a near escape from one of the lockdown units. And on Friday I saw the gastroenterologist.

It turns out my visit was pointless. The doctor seems like a nice guy, and he did spend 45 minutes with me. But the only thing he offered to treat was my SIBO (if I even have that, which I probably do). He offered an assortment of antibiotics I can take, if I chose to do so, and based upon my personal subsequent research.

UPDATE: because I need to do something, anything, I've decided to go with the antibiotic he most highly recommended, something called Xifaxan. Sunshine44 concurred, after linking me to a Health Rising article depicting a CFS sufferer who has nearly completely covered from CFS after having been bedridden (a surprising and unexpected result, for her). Obviously, that's not my expectation, but my intestinal bloating is now causing related complications -

Of late, I am so uncomfortably bloated that I have to shut down my tube feeding and hydration several times a day. I've also had to cease eating any and all foods orally. And I've lost about 12 lbs in the past 2 weeks, but that's not a big deal. I have extra weight to work with… and I'm not dehydrated.

This gastroenterologist works hand in hand with the neuromuscular specialist, and insists this other doctor will be able to address my issues more readily. Plus, in the least, he wrote out a dedicated prescription for gluten-free, dye free, flavor free simethicone gas relief drops. I've had an impossible time acquiring these drops through the nursing home, through insurance. Nurse Raleigh has been buying these drops for me out of her own pocket. So hopefully, the nursing home people follow through with my prescription and get me those drops. Sometimes they actually help reduce the bloating and discomfort.

I deleted 1,900 words for this entry, so hopefully this wasn't too difficult of a read for each and every one of you.

Take care,

Beautiful cumulus congestus outside my window -


View of Camelback Mountain from gastroenterologists office

On the Road ... to my appointment, without Jack Kerouac

On my way back, view to the Northeast

Notice all the white colored vehicles in these pictures? If you had the guess, why do you think that is?


Well. Oh, All that. Yeah, right.

Your the only sane person I think I've ever not met, Howard. The situation your in and the surroundings is of course, completely insane. As you have so eloquently noted.

There is a phenomenon, we call it Lots of White Cars..

I'd love to hike up that Camelback mountain, that looks Very fun. I once climbed up the face of a similar sized mountain, around here. it was steep as heck, and you go up on all fours. No trail.

monsoonal, here, too, but lacking real precipition, I" ve had the odd experience of breaking out in a total sweat....when I thought my body forgot now to do that.

Four brown SUVs around here, changed out to white ones, recently.

I'd hypothesize in hot weather type places, a dark car sucks. They are just flat out hot. Also very famous are the white "trucks" and the ubiquitous- white van with no markings...only a license code. These white vehicles, they run the world, they keep it going.

My daughter's perfect Honda came with the defective visors: melt in hot weather. You'd think you've got this really nice car, only the visor keeps falling down and you can' see the road- the fancy contents, melted. And they never made subsequent visors to survive hot weather. Replacement, is the same visor which melts.

Back at Howard's End- sorry its not your End. Its your ...launch pad for further adventures in that forest with the bread crumb paths that lead out.

The psychiatrist had sure better correct these baseless declarations in your file folder. And let me know, if that becomes an issue, we could fabricate some letterhead, send something in writing and CC: somebody with initials and the appendage: Esquire.

Take it slowly, with the new mobile device, until your get used to it and familiar etc. Howard's End should not be the wall at the end of the hallway!

So the primary physician will authorize the Insane Patient to be freed to tour the facility and move about at will. Thats fascinating.

Meanwhile, I'm grateful Sunshine is helping with this next "step". Its good to have sound advice from someone so wise!

Only able to read up to Cheers 'n' Chairs for now. It's one of my crash days.

Regarding your medical records, that's so infuriating :angry::angry::angry::angry::angry:
and unfortunately I have a sense that those type of mental diagnoses don't help with getting on disability. IDK.

Hopefully someone can contradict me. :(
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Yes. I've been in my new chair since 11:50 AM and I'm never ever getting out of the chair ever ever again! Details soon. :)

I am not super upset about the incorrect diagnosis, right now, if that's what gets me approved for disability. In the meantime, I will hold off on being extremely angry. Decision is supposed to be rendered on September 8. Which is a month away, or less than that ...actually.

All right then, going back outside for like the 7th time today! Although the duration is rather short. 10 or 15 minutes at most cuz it's really flipping hot and humid out there.

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Hey, Hot Wheels @Howard!

I was just reading a food safety article that mentioned Kate Farms, and I can't remember if that's the brand of feeding formula you use.

Just in case, I want to let you know that certain Kate Farm products (not all of them) have been contaminated with a pathogenic bacteria and therefore recalled. I didn't see Adult formula on the list, but the list is expanding.

So, just in case this IS your brand of feeding formula, I wanted to bring to your attention so you can check it out.

Best regards,
I was just reading a food safety article that mentioned Kate Farms, and I can't remember if that's the brand of feeding formula you use.
Yes, I just received the notification via text message. And yes, this is my feeding formula, however the lot numbers do not match the ones that I'm currently using. All of my formula bottles have expiration of 2023.

Previous formula bottles that I have already consumed were dated similarly, but I can't recall exactly If they match up.

Mine is the Peptide 1.5 ... and I only see 1 example of that, so far. :)

I appreciate you mentioning this, in case they hadn't sent me a notification themselves.
Pictures! We want photos of Howard's new hot rod!
Yes, I shall send pictures of my new vehicle. Right now, pics are on my phone and I am on my tablet and that's why this looks all goofy and the voice language text is virtually incoherent at times ----

I also just returned for my doctor's appointment through a torrential downpour - took an hour and 20 minutes to make it back up from South Scottsdale.. Trees down, widespread flooding, the usual suspects. The dust storm was impressive as well. :)
Hello Howard.....Nuts are you? Well, if it's any comfort I'd say that most of us have some diagnosis leading that way. The population as a whole, as a matter of fact.

Perhaps not exactly, but don't we all have personality "traits" that could lead to a diagnosis by a professional who will classify it as a "disorder?" I think so. Still, a new letter containing your diagnoses should be sent, especially if the psychologist (?) seems willing.

Your new Dr. seems good. True, he isn't going to cure you, but you'll get to know him and will have someone at your back when needed. If you find some interesting articles (short) that help describe your problems, so much the better. Pass them on to him.

The new helper sounds like he needs some help himself. I'm sure the staff will grow aware of his absences rather fast, but then good help most certainly IS hard to find.

New wheels though! OK, now that is exciting. I'm glad that Santa came early. Now you can visit your old friends and make some new ones. You're outside a lot. Howard, please don't overdo it as that sun is strong.

Rattlesnakes on Camelback (or whatever it's called now). We almost made it to the top years ago, but a nest of them scared us away. I didn't like that hot, dusty feeling anyway (& no, I don't like it at home either). Still, to be so close. We know someone who hiked it and ended up with a bite. It wasn't pleasant.

Anyway, I don't think the Wheelchair Olympics include reaching mountain peaks, do they? Take the antibiotic....I'm sure @sunshine44 knows exactly what she's talking about.

Enough bossing....other duties are calling. I know you're sorry. :)

Have a good time in your chair....freedom! Yours, Lenora
OH, the mobile chair is so NICE!

Future Tour looks lovely, and another great Cloud has arisen!

Regarding Rattlesnakes on Camelback: oh yeah...I would figure snakes and reptiles abound, they don't bother me especially. (walk around) (unless your on all fours, crawling up the moutainside: hello snake)

I'd probably want to do such a hike in winter...if that exists.

Something I once saw: in winter, and nobody had a camera, because nobody had cameras. as camera involved money and film and why would college students have any money? (nobody got student loans, back then)

Biologists in winter, turn over a large log on the ground. (Guest lecturer turned it over). the Famous Dr. Harold Biswell. and there is a sleeping rattle snake, with about 200 large scorpions, all nestled together under this log. Snoring.

We put the log back.
@Rufous McKinney.......Dr. Biswell put the rock back along with all of the scorpions, and the group scattered. Smart people! I finally saw a butterfly on one of the milkweed we planted. "The Fill-Up Station."

I see that @Tammy is a fan of Dr. Seuss....why do children love those books so? Mine always did and, like Tammy, I remember every line. Xmas came early, did it? You'll have something to decorate this year. Go crazy....decorate for all seasons. It looks like a mighty powerful wheelchair so enjoy getting into all sorts of trouble. Yours, Lenora
@Rufous McKinney.......Dr. Biswell put the rock back along with all of the scorpions, and the group scattered. Smart people! I finally saw a butterfly on one of the milkweed we planted. "The Fill-Up Station."
yeah....a cold snake and 200 cold scorpions In January, aren't much of a threat....

I did experience Rattle Snake on Steepe Talus Slope....while crawling on all fours....straight up this hot as heck slope of volcanic scree......

It was very steep, we were crawling out of a swimming hole (the car is always uphill from your lovely swimming hole) (You will be covered in hot dust, getting back, darn) ...rattle snake was therefore about 24 inches away from your face.

We were at the bottom of the slope: in about 0.23 seconds. You cannot explain how your body moved that far that fast.

And just like in a Loony Tune cartoon, your legs turn to jello. And you cannot stand up (once you got away from that slope with the snake).

(obviously, we had to find a different route back.)

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