She’s watched many siblings, friends and others pass her by to other worlds. She held on strong full of love.
Grandmother’s sister. One of many many sisters.
The voice calls Marie as I lay sleeping and dreaming of her last months of pain. The heavy whisper took the only Great Aunt among her siblings whose name I could always remember.
Marie. Marie.
The whispering voice takes her away to a better place.
Better than the place full of pain she’s been living anyway.
Sorry for not filling these pages for a while faithful and infidelic readers. My mind and body have been under major construction and most of my creative focus has been drained on the artistic outlets that I make money on and the rest of my energy is kind of lost. I’ve been lost yet searching while waiting for my mental, physical and spiritual portals to show me some light and it’s been found. Perhaps the following will explain a little so be patient or skip to the good parts.
As always- thanks for reading.
Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal)
I recklessly take new medications with out reading the label and the big slip describing all of the side effects. I take the pill then either the pill works, doesn’t work I feel the side effects or I don’t. Then I read the side effects if something feels wrong.
I finally went to see a neurologist after 5 years of being diagnosed with Trigeminal Neuralgia, a facial nerve disorder is how I describe I to most people but it’s much deeper than that or it wouldn’t be nick-named as the “suicide disease”.
It took 5 or 6 months of waiting for this appointment because having Medicaid as my insurance I am on a lower priority rank at the office. Medicaid even provides me with rides to and from my house which can be nerve racking and a God send at different times depending who the driver is.
I met with a beautiful Asian Dr named Dr Tracey Wang. I was expecting an old unattractive woman for some reason. I don’t even know why this was an issue-I guess it was more of a passing observation. She did a lot of standard physical tests like reflexes on my legs, knees, arms, legs and even my face. I was in pain when I got there and purposely didn’t take any of my pain meds so she could see my pain if possible. The cold medal of her small reflex tool did cause pain on my face.
When she was finished checking my pain she moved on to tell me what steps I need to take next. She wrote a referral for an MRI and another brain scan of the face that I can’t remember what it’s called, a referral to pain management who may be able to write prescriptions for pain medications because this doctor my new family doctor do not like to prescribe pain medicine. Hopefully I won’t need pain medication with the new anti-seizure medication.
I filled my prescription for the new medication Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal) on my way to stay at my mother’s. I stay there every Friday night in case my uncle needs me to help him with work on Saturdays doing minor office cleaning a few blocks from my mom’s house. I was planning to stay at mom’s until the following Tuesday in case my sick aunt needed watching over if my uncle had to go anywhere like his Doctor appointments because my mom had preplanned a vacation. I watched some television and did a little writing and went t bed at a decent hour because I was called into work for 8 am Saturday morning. I took the Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal) for the first time that night.
I woke up late with little time to get ready and have coffee the next morning and I couldn’t get off the couch I normally sleep on. My face was half numb and half hurting. My arms were numb and semi seizuring. My eyes were blurred and swollen. I made some quick instant coffee and could barely hold the cup. I took all of my morning medications and debated skipping the new one but took one anyway assuming this was all just a side effect that will pass. I sat on the porch and tried to steady myself for a morning smoke and coffee with shaking hands and face. I called one of the other workers to let him know that I was running late. He made a sarcastic remark about me hurrying up that I took serious and sent my anxiety through the roof. I eventually settled a bit and got my ass off to work. My co-workers looked at me like I looked the way I felt. I felt like I had the worst hangover ever. I haven’t had a drink in a while either. I went to work slowly but found myself feeling better once the pain medications kicked in. I made it through work and then a visit to see my uncle and aunt. Great aunt and her “man” of almost 20 years. That’s another story. I eventually made it back to my mom’s and was in and out of it for the next 4 or 5 days.
Every day I’d wake up at different times with various symptoms and deal with it the best I could. I watched a lot of television and barely did any drawing, writing or reading. My mind and body went through changes each day. I did manage to check the side effects each day to make sure most of them were normal ones and I didn’t need to go to the hospital or stop taking the new medication. Since I had to stay at my mom’s anyway I stayed “on call” until Thursday when I had a group therapy thing that night with rides set up through medical insurance . .bla blah.. If you’re still with me folks keep reading. I might actually have a point to these 3 pages of 16 point type.
What I thought was going to be a mini-vacation at my mom’s house for 4 days turned into a 5-day rehabilitation and medication adjustment. The seizures and numbness lessened and now I am just numb in the tongue for some reason. The pain lessened the 2nd day and my dizziness and sleepiness continued but that’s understandable because I take several pills with the same side effect.
This is the first time that I am giving new medications for my Trigeminal Neuralgia and my bipolar a chance for more than a few days in a while. Usually, if I don’t like the side effects I stop. Also, having jobs and many commitments I had to stop taking come meds or I’d lose my job and relationships. Fortunately or unfortunately, I have the freedom and time to give medications the proper time to work through my system and adjust to them and see if they will work. It’s also the first time I feel hope and faith through the temporary side effects to feel better. If it means a few weeks or a few months to find out so be it.
I might end up stop taking some of them and trying it again and that’s ok also because I’ve learned that treating rare neuralgic disorders and mental illness is not an exact science. Sometimes faith and hope is the most important ingredient to the recipe of mental, emotional, physical and spiritual wellness.
Oh yeah -Doctors, lawyers, psychiatrists therapists, group therapy and 12-step meetings are also part of the mix to my personal recovery. If I keep it all balances and don’t let myself get overwhelmed then I might even grow up and out of whatever it is I am now and was before
NOTE: I wrote this November 10th, the day Marcus passed away. I haven’t been on the internet so I am posting it now and I still feel everything I wrote.
Lost another soldier. A soldier of angelic visions and pain. A true warrior of lost souls finding his way. As many times he wandered off the path of enlightenment he always came back to share the sometimes soutrageous yes spiritual paths he found.
Marcus died today. My muse. My confidant. My hero. My friend.
A friend of almost 20 years. As best as he could be. Good enough for me. We became each other despite our extreme differences.
Never have I experienced a friendship that transcended reality like the one I had with Marcus. Marcus Shepherd. A million private jokes. A million laughs. A million cries. A million trips outside and inside ourselves discovering, discussing and over analyzing emotions, theories, thoughts and the world surrounding our soft child like yet genius brains.
He was the only friend that knew everything about me and actually understood me. Missing him is an understatement at this point. At any point. In and out of my life at times as friendships do yet always in thoughts and prayers.
I met him in March 1992 and knew there was something special there. I never dreamed we’d play in bands together, live together and become so close. I couldn’t imagine that this tall skinny guy in eyeliner with long full black hair that wears frilly shirts and leather pants would become my inspiration turning me on to writers I never heard of like Jean Genet, punk bands like Television and even foreign films like Goddard. A new world sparked from this unusual friendship.
His visions, which I once thought were bullshit, unfolded in front of me. Light and dark. We talked of these things. We talked for hours about the here and now as well. Our emotions and desires. Exposing each deep secret we’ve ever had through the years.
We hung out at coffee shops in our 30s like 2 art school kids to meet artists and people to inspire us especially the girls. Then we discussed our love for them. The women. The art girls. Frantically, desperately seeking our soul mates from any hot young artist girl.
I helped him discover that he was just as superficial at times as the rest of us the way he brought the artist and serious poet out in me.
I could go on and on and I probably will about stories and adventures of the man I call friend and mean it. Keep reading. As much as I miss him, I know he is part of me and will stay here.
I’ve heard that term so many times. never thought it would apply to me. It did.
I had trouble breathing 4 -6 months ago.
Months went by and my left arm went back and forth from slight pain to numbness sometimes. My chest was occasionally tight. My breath was short and became shorter every few days. My little secret. My deadly secret.
Deadly secret.
I mentioned it briefly to a couple people but I wrote it off as a panic attack or being out of shape and they agreed. No big deal. I took extra anxiety medications. It sort of went away. I tried to convince myself it went away. I’m too young to have a heart condition, right? So I kept my deadly little secret.
I went back to my cigarette smoking, too much coffee drinking and over eating bad foods. Ate, drank and smoked as much as I wanted for a few months ignoring the arm pain and shortness of breath.
My deadly secret was about to surface. It started off like most days. I woke up in the morning and had my usual several cups of coffee, an energy drink and as many cigarettes as I could smoke. No breakfast for this guy.
After a long urination, my breathing became difficult. I assumed it was anxiety or another panic attack so I took my anxiety meds and was stupid enough to light a cigarette. I’m always stupid enough to light a cigarette.
I had to put the cigarette out before it was finished. This went against one of the rules of my smoking rulebook. Rule 3: Never put out a cigarette before it is finished. You can see how serious this was getting that I broke a smoking rule.
I decided to go the hospital. My roommate was home and asleep because it was Labor Day. I didn’t want to bother him. I packed a bag and wandered to my car. It got worse. I tried to get in my car and couldn’t make it. I stumbled back in the house.
I tried to wake up my roommate but didn’t have the energy to do much more than knock and slightly shout his name. No answer.
I called 911. I couldn’t breathe and figured an ambulance can get me oxygen faster than driving to the hospital. I searched for a small paper bag to use to breathe in and out of. All I could find was a paper grocery bag. I used it until the medics arrived.
The medics arrived within 5 minutes or so. Luckily the hospital was close by. I was put on oxygen right away and wheeled away into the ambulance by 3 or 4 medics. It was so nice to breathe.
I spent 6 hours or so in the emergency room and was diagnosed with bronchitis and discharged. There was a huge note on the release forms that said “DO NOT SMOKE” so of course I smoked while I called my roommate for a ride home.
It was hot and humid when I got home and I had trouble breathing. Our air conditioner was broken so I called my mom and asked if I could sleep there. I packed my over night bag etc and settled in at my mom’s.
I had one more cigarette and tried to sleep. The symptoms all came back and my heart hurt this time. My mom drove me back to the hospital and after hours in the emergency room I was admitted with a heart attack and I was to have triple bypass heart surgery asap. I did.
This all could have been avoided if I didn’t keep such deadly secrets.
Sometimes I feel everything. Projection? Frustration? Anxiety?
Scar tissues spreads and strengthens me and weakens me.
Sometimes my past will pop up and surprise me.
“Hey how ya doin?”
“Great. How are you?” *Stutter and shake*
Chocolate shake. Fuck you. I want vanilla. I always want vanilla.
“Livin the dream” *Shimmy, shimmy shakes*
Shimmy my ass. You’re dream must be simple. You must be simple. Fuck your shimmy, shimmy and your Goddamn shake.
“Oh. That’s great I guess.” *Reelin and rockin*
Ahh.. that’s better. Reeling and rockin… Not living or dying just kind of rockin.
“Yeah man. I am so filled with gratitude for my wonderful life.” *proud statement loosing confidence*
“Yeah? Me too. What are you so grateful about?” *Twisting and shouting*
“I woke up today. The sun is shining. I have love. I have friends.” *it goes on and on and on and . . .yeah*
Doubt and reconsideration of this fool standing before me. Too evasive. Too general. Hides the scars and pain and the past. Denies it.
“Are you grateful you took a shit?’ *sarcastic laughter held in*
“Wha. . ?” *confused by ninja verbal dance moves*
“Are you grateful you found a dollar to buy some food?” *humility or self righteousness (can’t tell)*
The past faded away as I questioned and hustled and even disco ducked..
Hope or hopeless. Doesn’t matter if I remain in motion. Mental motion. . .Keep going and no matter the scars or the past or the pain, the spirit is well. Always is if I tap into it. Do the twist. Shake it out baby. Shake, rattle and roll.
You know how it is, Rockin and rollin and what not.
You cna live your dream. I’m living my life. It’s worth every scar.
Writing. I write even when I’m not writing. I have so many stories, ideas, blogs and books written in my head and a small portion of them are half or a quarter written on paper. Not paper. In Word documents. Unfinished thoughts, ideas, blogs, stories and novels. A writer writes all of the time. I used t write the way I thought and spoke. Now I speak and think the way I write. Sometimes my actual thoughts and spoken words use correct grammar and syntax more so than when I write.
Not everyone is a writer but everyone has a story worth writing. Everyone could be a writer. I believe everyone should write. Don’t be afraid. It’s just putting words in front of each other. Write what is on your mind. Write what happened. There are no rules. Some say that there are rules and a proper way to write. Blah.. Fuck grammar, syntax, spelling, punctuation and big words. If you can’t be creative then don’t. Just say it.
We all have live a rich life. Not always happy. Not always miserable but something worth writing about. Some of us struggle with day to day living and survival and it’s worth writing about. Some of us are happy and enjoy life with occasional struggles worth writing about. Right?
A lot of my friend send me poetry and prose that the usually keep to themselves and sometimes even hide away. These pieces of writings are some of the best I’ve ever read. I’ve published a few on my wordpress site and they even got more readers than I get. So much
Of all of the arts I’ve tried and even excelled at, writing is my favorite. Something about seeing what’s in my mind on paper or on a document or blog makes me happy and fulfilled no matter how bad I feel or what the topic is. I have this innate desire to share my thoughts and feelings as often as possible online and I enjoy positive and negative feedback. I am self-absorbed and like to be in charge. Writing is perfect for my ego. It satisfies my need for instant gratification. It’s one thing I can do without depending on other people. Complete control.
Whenever I get involved with projects whether it’s art, music or business partnerships I am the only one that has my heart in it and the others tend to fade out. They have their own dreams and lives to live. I can’t expect people to blindly follow my dreams and goals. So I write. I write. I write.
I may never be a best selling novelist or celebrated poet but I have people that read what I write. People like you. You must want to red what I have to say of you wouldn’t be reading this now. I guess there’s the partnership. There is also the completion of my writing. Once you read it my writing becomes more than just self indulgent self absorbed ramblings It is a complete work of art.
I thank you for that. I thank you for making me who I am today; A writer.
Posted by richhillenjr 
Mind is Under Construction, Sexy Asian Neurologist and Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal)
May 11, 2012Sorry for not filling these pages for a while faithful and infidelic readers. My mind and body have been under major construction and most of my creative focus has been drained on the artistic outlets that I make money on and the rest of my energy is kind of lost. I’ve been lost yet searching while waiting for my mental, physical and spiritual portals to show me some light and it’s been found. Perhaps the following will explain a little so be patient or skip to the good parts.
As always- thanks for reading.
Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal)
I recklessly take new medications with out reading the label and the big slip describing all of the side effects. I take the pill then either the pill works, doesn’t work I feel the side effects or I don’t. Then I read the side effects if something feels wrong.
I finally went to see a neurologist after 5 years of being diagnosed with Trigeminal Neuralgia, a facial nerve disorder is how I describe I to most people but it’s much deeper than that or it wouldn’t be nick-named as the “suicide disease”.
It took 5 or 6 months of waiting for this appointment because having Medicaid as my insurance I am on a lower priority rank at the office. Medicaid even provides me with rides to and from my house which can be nerve racking and a God send at different times depending who the driver is.
I met with a beautiful Asian Dr named Dr Tracey Wang. I was expecting an old unattractive woman for some reason. I don’t even know why this was an issue-I guess it was more of a passing observation. She did a lot of standard physical tests like reflexes on my legs, knees, arms, legs and even my face. I was in pain when I got there and purposely didn’t take any of my pain meds so she could see my pain if possible. The cold medal of her small reflex tool did cause pain on my face.
When she was finished checking my pain she moved on to tell me what steps I need to take next. She wrote a referral for an MRI
and another brain scan of the face that I can’t remember what it’s called, a referral to pain management who may be able to write prescriptions for pain medications because this doctor my new family doctor do not like to prescribe pain medicine. Hopefully I won’t need pain medication with the new anti-seizure medication.
I filled my prescription for the new medication Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal) on my way to stay at my mother’s. I stay there every Friday night in case my uncle needs me to help him with work on Saturdays doing minor office cleaning a few blocks from my mom’s house. I was planning to stay at mom’s until the following Tuesday in case my sick aunt needed watching over if my uncle had to go anywhere like his Doctor appointments because my mom had preplanned a vacation. I watched some television and did a little writing and went t bed at a decent hour because I was called into work for 8 am Saturday morning. I took the Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal) for the first time that night.
I woke up late with little time to get ready and have coffee the next morning and I couldn’t get off the couch I normally sleep on. My face was half numb and half hurting. My arms were numb and semi seizuring. My eyes were blurred and swollen. I made some quick instant coffee and could barely hold the cup. I took all of my morning
medications and debated skipping the new one but took one anyway assuming this was all just a side effect that will pass. I sat on the porch and tried to steady myself for a morning smoke and coffee with shaking hands and face. I called one of the other workers to let him know that I was running late. He made a sarcastic remark about me hurrying up that I took serious and sent my anxiety through the roof. I eventually settled a bit and got my ass off to work. My co-workers looked at me like I looked the way I felt. I felt like I had the worst hangover ever. I haven’t had a drink in a while either. I went to work slowly but found myself feeling better once the pain medications kicked in. I made it through work and then a visit to see my uncle and aunt. Great aunt and her “man” of almost 20 years. That’s another story. I eventually made it back to my mom’s and was in and out of it for the next 4 or 5 days.
Every day I’d wake up at different times with various symptoms and deal with it the best I could. I watched a lot of television and
barely did any drawing, writing or reading. My mind and body went through changes each day. I did manage to check the side effects each day to make sure most of them were normal ones and I didn’t need to go to the hospital or stop taking the new medication. Since I had to stay at my mom’s anyway I stayed “on call” until Thursday when I had a group therapy thing that night with rides set up through medical insurance . .bla blah.. If you’re still with me folks keep reading. I might actually have a point to these 3 pages of 16 point type.
This is the first time that I am giving new medications for my Trigeminal Neuralgia and my bipolar a chance for more than a few days in a while. Usually, if I don’t like the side effects I stop. Also, having jobs and many commitments I had to stop taking come meds or I’d lose my job and relationships. Fortunately or unfortunately, I have the freedom and time to give medications the proper time to work through my system and adjust to them and see if they will work. It’s also the first time I feel hope and faith through the temporary side effects to feel better. If it means a few weeks or a few months to find out so be it.
I might end up stop taking some of them and trying it again and that’s ok also because I’ve learned that treating rare neuralgic disorders and mental illness is not an exact science. Sometimes faith and hope is the most important ingredient to the recipe of mental, emotional, physical and spiritual wellness.
Oh yeah -Doctors, lawyers, psychiatrists therapists, group therapy and 12-step meetings are also part of the mix to my personal recovery. If I keep it all balances and don’t let myself get overwhelmed then I might even grow up and out of whatever it is I am now and was before
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