Saturday, September 10, 2016

Menopause Mayhem, Unlucky Contestants, and Vera

If there is such a thing as a double whammy, let me tell you that I'm feeling it.  Between the PTSD and surgically induced menopause has my memory all flavors of incorrect.  And I'm not too happy about it.  I can remember events that happened over 3 years ago, but I can't even recall whether or not I let somebody read a blog post based on a suggestion.  Tag team that with massive fatigue, night sweats, insomnia, and (even more) moments of hypersexuality, I am one exhausted pup.  Hell, even my nice long excursions from Shaker Square (sometimes I will type it out as (Shaker)^2 or Shaker to the Second Power) to the West Side suburb of North Olmsted and back has become one agonizing drag.

THIS WAS NOT EXPLAINED TO ME ABOUT THE BENEFITS OF ADULTHOOD WHEN I WAS A KID.  I WANT MY MONEY BACK.  MY GUARANTEE OF SATISFACTION TURNED OUT TO BE AN EPIC FAIL.

Did I also mention that I am one grumpy fuck?

Naw, you don't say?

Ohai, Dear Reader.  How are you?

I am doing good.  How are you?

I could be doing worse, I could be having hot flashes.  That seemed to die when I started the estrogen regimen.

Sounds like you're doing well, then.

For the moment, yes.

Are you taking any vitamins or supplements?

I was until I ran out.  I need to hit up the store (the grocery store in my neighborhood and all the Aldi locations carry, like, 2 or 3 vitamin selections; that's it) so I can get some of the following for my current body chemistry:

  • Black cohosh supplement, that should bring my basal temperature down
  • Green tea supplement, mental clarity and a bit of energy
  • Calcium, magnesium, and zinc multivitamin, strong bones and immune system
  • Adult once daily multivitamin, for all the other elements I missed but need
Technically, I could do an adult multivitamin that is designed for an adult over the age of 50, but nah.

Why would you want to do that?

Well, it's because my body has now entered the crone stage of life.  My maiden years were from the time I was born to about 10 (that's when I first started menstruating), while my mother years were from then until May, when I had my last ovary removed.  You might as well call me babushka (say: BAH-bush-kah) or dedushka (say: DEE-doosh-kah), I have now claim status as "perverted old fuck."

Are you sure you want that status, Vera?

Do you have one that's better than that?

Well, what does your case manager have to say about that?

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. *cough cough* Oh damn, sorry about that. *snickers wildly*

Oh no, Vera. Now what did you do?

I did the usual; I let other people make themselves look like incompetent assholes.

Why?  How?  What happened?

The case manager was supposed to call me to let me know when and where I was supposed to do this "counseling" thingamabob.  That never happened. So on Tuesday, after Labor Day, I went down to the case management services center and spoke to a client's rights officer (a fancy title for an ombudsman).  I let the client's rights officer have everything that had happened between me and this poor excuse of an individual who can't even manage basic let alone my case.

The next day, Wednesday, I get a phone call from the client's rights officer.  She said that my case manager was taken off of my case by her supervisor.  The client's rights officer also stated that the supervisor was going to call me and let me know who would be my next unlucky contestant....err, case manager.  If I didn't hear anything by yesterday, she instructed me to call her first thing Monday morning.

Guess who gets a phone call from me come Monday?

What the fuck?

That's what I said.  The client's rights officer doesn't even work for the case management services center; she works with them as a nonbiased third party.  This could explain why I was befuddled when she had asked me if I had been to other agencies for this type of assistance.  I told the client's rights officer that I had 3 (technically 4) locations all direct me to this specific spot.

I'm beginning again to think that, because of my perceived incompetence and my actual intelligence, that figures of authority do not like dealing with me, even as an out and proud Autistic.

Uhh, yeah. When you blog post shit like this, calling people out, you don't think they're not going to tell their colleagues about this?

That is actually none of my business whether or not incompetent assholes talk about what was said on my blog, unless they are trying to seek litigation against me.

Come on, Vera.  People make mistakes.  You should look past them and see the wonderful people that they truly are.

Is that what you tell yourself when you're on a date with a child molester or a serial killer?  Inside their cozy conjugal suite at Hotel Lucasville?

Let me rephrase that.  People make legal mistakes.  People make small, overlookable mistakes.  How's that?

Okay, how many chances do I give these fools?  Because I am not wasting my precious time on someone's lack of consistency when I could be doing something (or someone) else at that moment.

Give them three strikes, like in baseball.

I think I gave my case manager more than three strikes, don't you think?

Point taken.

At any rate, I'm just going to allow this current brain fog numb out my anxiety prone cerebellum and enjoy the weekend.  I suggest that you do the same.

You are becoming a grumpy fuck, aren't you Vera?

Heh, Dr. [H]ouse has nothing on this cantankery.

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