it truly is an addiction

Warning: TL;DR

I have to do something to get this anxiety out, so I write, and post it. Please know that I don't wish to offend anyone who has lived through addiction. Mine may be ridiculously mild compared to others, but it's hard to fight. I know it's not as hard to kick as other addictions, but in my life, it's the real thing.

I realized how bad it is because of what began last Thursday when my wife, Kathy, was admitted to the hospital. I always drink cola,* but beginning that day I started guzzling it. Truly guzzling it. Kathy was released today; on the way home she asked for a treat from 7-11. I also grabbed a bottle of cola. It was gone before we got home. It didn't take long for the craving to set in again.

Here I am, sitting in bed and trying hard to ignore the colas in the garage. The effort to quell the craving finally drove me to the meds for a prescribed anxiety pill. It hasn't kicked in yet.


* I won't use its name for fear of threats of lawsuits for defamation.

Mounjaro

For the unaware, Mounjaro is a once per week self-injected weight-loss drug.

A few weeks ago, after giving me the good news about my latest round of tests, my cardiologist shared that he'd recently lost over 60 pounds with Mounjaro. He recommended that I look into it, which I have done. So far my only misgiving is the side effects. Ooh, can't wait.

Last week, I joined a gym (Planet Fitness). I haven't exercised for years. I'm nervous about it, mostly because my gait and balance are poor. I'm a constant threat to trip and fall while walking. One of my sisters won't let me walk beside her unless she's holding my arm; the other just says "go get PT before you break bones." I have a video appointment with my PCP on Monday; I'm going to ask her for an order for PT. At the gym, I'll avoid the treadmill and the stair steppers, probably others.

If you're using or have ever used Mounjaro, I'd like to hear about your experience, if you'd care to tell about it. I'd especially like to hear about side effects: what they are, their severity, whether they go away after a time, etc. Thank you.

Cross-posted in the Lounge for a wider audience.

Mounjaro

For the unaware, Mounjaro is a once per week self-injected weight-loss drug.

A few weeks ago, after giving me the good news about my latest round of tests, my cardiologist shared that he'd recently lost over 60 pounds with Mounjaro. He recommended that I look into it, which I have done. So far my only misgiving is the side effects. Ooh, can't wait.

Last week, I joined a gym (Planet Fitness). I haven't exercised for years. I'm nervous about it, mostly because my gait and balance are poor. I'm a constant threat to trip and fall while walking. One of my sisters won't let me walk beside her unless she's holding my arm; the other just says "go get PT before you break bones." I have a video appointment with my PCP on Monday; I'm going to ask her for an order for PT. At the gym, I'll avoid the treadmill and the stair steppers, probably others.

If you're using or have ever used Mounjaro, I'd like to hear about your experience, if you'd care to tell about it. I'd especially like to hear about side effects: what they are, their severity, whether they go away after a time, etc. Thank you.

Cross-posted in Health. Posted here for a wider audience.

TO ALL WHO REPLIED TO "MY WIFE TOLD ME SHE IS SUICIDAL"

I've been trying to reply to every one, but I can't finish right now. I will reply, I promise. I didn't get very far, but I intend to reply to everyone.

BAYARD, I just wrote you a reply, and I lost it, G.D. When I can get back to this, I'll try to remember what I wrote.

Thank you, my friends. I hope to get back later today.

My wife told me that she is suicidal.

She has chronic pain 24/7. There's little more to her desire to die. She has an rx for a powerful painkiller. I don't know if that factors into her wish to die. I wonder if she has looked up how many of those pills it would take to ease that pain permanently.

It's bad. It's very bad. We've been together 25 years, married for 15 of those, and while she's talked about other suicidal times in her life, she's never talked about it in the present tense.

She sent me a text a few days ago that spelled it out. For some stupid reason, I deleted it. Does anyone know how to recover a deleted text on an Android?

She has a therapist, whom she's seen once in four years. I went with her. I thought it was useless, but then I can't judge her therapy sessions by my own.

I suggested she call the hotline. She declined. She told me something that I thought was going to kill me: she said all she needs is me. I had a sick relationship in college, and her telling me that brought it all back. I felt like my hair was on fire, and I wanted to run screaming.

Thank you for listening and, just by doing so, offering your support.

Post your favorite recording artist or band from outside those of your generation

That is, what you consider your generation for purpose of this music survey.

I share Bob Seger's opinion, assuredly without any offense toward yours.

just take those old records off the shelf
I'll sit and listen to them by myself
today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old time rock & roll

I'm 62 . . . my music is primarily from the '70s, with some '60s. My favorites from outside my generation are The Cranberries, the B-52s, and Paula Cole. I also really dig Peter Gabriel, but I think it's a reach to call him "outside my generation." And literally - he's only 13 years older than I am.

Tell us - what is your favorite music from outside your generation? And, if you like, the music you dig from within your generation.

What are your hobbies?

Fucking pay attention when I talk to you!

I'm in the middle of telling my wife about the Angels' new clubhouse rule this season, when she interrupts me by getting up and saying "I've got something in my teeth." No "excuse me, sorry," no "hold that thought, tell me when I get back."

She comes back and says "did I tell you what so & so said to me yesterday?" Well, no, asshole, and why would I ? Why would I listen when you'll just blow me off in the middle of my telling you something that's important to me? What's more, it's only baseball. Who gives a rat's ass what the Angels are doing in the clubhouse? Who cares what the hoped-for consequences will be.

It's only baseball, probably the most important thing in my life besides my family and the survival of this country and her citizens.

All things considered, it's small thing about which I'm having this internal snarly discussion.

But be a decent human being. At least pretend you're listening to me, and excuse yourself from the discussion with a quick "excuse me" or something like it. Then exercise this muscle: "Ok, what were you saying?"

Or am I the bitch?

Passive-Aggressive BS

Mick is a guy I met in the partial hospitalization program I was in a couple of years ago. Somehow he learned that he and I lived on the same street.

He appeared at my door a couple of times, asking for money for food. Being who I am, how could I say no? I gave him a twenty the first time he asked; a ten the second. But my wife was pissed - not at me but at Mick.

The next time the doorbell rang after dark, Kathy answered the door. They got into a heated argument in which several "fuck yous" were thrown about. He hasn't come to the door since then.

However, we believe he's come to our house to vandalize things. My front license plate was bent twice. Our trash and recycling bins* were moved to the driveway, directly behind my car. (Minor, but irritating.)

The latest insult was that we found the backyard flooded one afternoon. Our sprinklers don't work, but they seep at an astounding rate. Little fish could've swam among the grass, I swear.

We've bought a group of tiny cameras to put up around the outside of our house, but none of us can figure out how they work. I think my music teacher can figure it out (this just occurred to me: if he can teach me music theory so that I can understand it, surely he can figure out our cameras).

How passive-aggressive is this BS?!

* The member of our household whose job it is to bring in the bins does so in the dark of morning as they don't like to be seen.

Follow up to "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

I must thank everyone who weighed in on my hotel debacle. You offered condolences and sincere good wishes and birthday happiness and love. I appreciate you all.

I got the apology I hoped for - but in this form: she was abjectly sorry, apologizing for ruining my birthday. That was good.

But it was you all who applied the balm I truly needed. Thanks again.