Ouch.

For probably a week now I've been eating Vicodin/Lortab in addition to my Methadone.  There is a nasty pressure behind my eyes and it will not go away.  At least the Lortab helps the pain lessen enough to allow me to sleep for a couple hours.

They want to do a sleep study.  I'm apprehensive.  First off, I'm allergic to adhesive, so if they have to put patches on me, I'm gonna break out.  Secondly, I'm a mouth breather.  This means the nose things won't work.   Next, I'm allergic to latex, so they will have to make provisions for a latex-free testing environment.  Then, there's the claustrophobia condition to consider.
If you add this to the fact that I have a constant and unremitting pain to the right side of my face, and then a condition that causes chronic pain to the back area of my head called "occipital neuralgia," there is a pretty good indication that there is no way in Hades or anywhere else that they are going to be able to get one of those tight masks on my face and the back of my head.

Now, if I do end up with a diagnosis of sleep apnea, it will help with my disability continuation; be that as it may, I just don't know how it's going to work out.

Stress-wise, things have been incredible lately.  Becky's in-laws moved back into the second trailer on the property across from us.  This means more smell, more noise, & more aggravation.  These people have poor personal hygiene, are lacking in manners, and have some of the most warped sense of their idea of Christianity I have ever experienced.  When Becky ran away they let her stay there, in the same bedroom and bed as Matt, yet insisted to me over and over that there was no way those two were having sex in the bedroom.  Mom was adamant that Matt knew the house rules and wouldn't break them.  Man, either she was in serious denial or a liar, or both.  They also told us that taking Becky into their house instead of telling her to come home and deal with her problems was, "The right thing to do."  She lied and told them I was abusive and that I made her move all the furniture when she had to vacuum.  At the time, after the tornado ripped the roof off over our heads, all we had in the living room was a rocking chair and a coffee table.  They told her I was cruel for making her do chores - their kids didn't have chores, for making her go to school - their kids had been taken out of school for missing too much, and they were being haphazardly home schooled; and, after she asked to get her license so she could get a part time job (something I didn't do for her siblings because Tampa has public transportation and we were in walking distance of more than enough places for a teen to get jobs), I told her she had to get a job.  She wanted to come home from school and go to Matt's.  I made sure her chores and homework were done first.  That's what my Mom did, and what I did for her siblings, and it's what I expected from her.  Matt's mom didn't make the kids do anything, and that included getting out of bed to go to school.  No chores.  No responsibilities.

So Becky got mad because I was concerned about the grandkids living in a potentially dangerous environment and called DFS.  This led to her telling me I would never see my grandchildren again.  Ironically enough this happened only a year and a half after she finally started talking to us after a 4 1/2 year period of no communication once she left the house here.

This is harder on me than just about any of the other stressors in my life.  Living so close, hearing the kids laugh and play, and even seeing them on occasion, yet not being allowed to talk to them or contact them, is about ripping my heart out.  I just don't get it.

It's one of the reasons we're looking to move.  One of the biggest reasons.
Before we can move, there are a few conditions that need to be met....

• I need a pain doctor.  A pain doctor who will treat me like a real honest-to-God patient with real pain.
• We need land with enough room for my chickens, and a garden, and perhaps maybe even a pond.  At least a couple acres.  It needs to be more level than where we are now.  Hubby's diabetic neuropathy is getting worse and we need property that will be a lot easier for him to care for.  If the land is flat enough, I could possibly even do the mowing on the rider mower.
•  We need to sell this place for enough to be able to afford to have either no mortgage at all on our new place, which will probably be smaller, or at least a small mortgage of less than $20K.  I don't want a huge payment.  We're not rich.  I'd like him to be able to retire and if we can get a small place on a piece of land that is less than $70K we can live on my disability, his retirement and his Social Security and he won't have to work.  He will, however, need to find something to do or I'll go bats.  He would, too.  He has to be busy.

JR is struggling with knowing now that his kids in Florida are suffering without him being there.  He's struggling knowing that his son is angry because he can't see his dad but there's a baby up here living with him every day.  He feels left out and rejected.  It's a tough situation.   It's a bad situation.  He has two kids there, who don't see him and don't get money or presents or visits; but he has a baby here and she has all of him, and his son is in pain and angry because his daddy is here and not down where he can see him and spend time with him.  It's a mess.  It's gotta come to a head soon.  It had to.  He's gotta admit that he's made a mistake.

I don't know....the whole thing is just.....frustrating, painful, irritating....will it never end?

No wonder my head screams at me.