Friday Shorts

Every time I mention my son Kyle, I feel the need to say "my 22 year old bipolar son". Well, it’s time I stop saying that. He’s a pretty special kid, and I don’t want to define him in this manner. I don’t like being defined that way myself. Of course, I’m guilty of putting myself in that box…

My wife talked to Kyle’s girlfriend tonight. They have a good relationship, my wife has a good relationship with everyone. Just be a real person and you’ll connect with my wife. But neither of them has heard from Kyle for a while, and they commiserated a bit. My wife got off the phone in tears, and said to me "I miss him". I do too. With a little luck he’ll be back around this weekend. The times he disappears are nerve-wracking.

Because it’s a "bipolar" blog, we come to the requisite "frame of mind" part. I’m cycling very rapidly, and I hate it. Fighting depression last night, I was manic yesterday. Right now I’m an even-keeled "blah". I’m bouncing liked a yo-yo. I come home from work, look around the house and the yard and get so overwhelmed by everything that has to be done I can’t handle it. At least I’m handling my heavy load at work OK.

My youngest daughter, Sweetness, has been having nightmares. She is dreaming her new pet bunny "Lilly" dies. She wakes up just sobbing. You should see her with that bunny. She reads to the bunny every day, plays with her all the time, and is really enjoying her. I have to admit that animal is very loving. She’ll jump into my wife’s lap and nuzzle her arm until she’s petted. I’ll take some pictures and post them.

Is society getting more polite, or am I looking old? I’m referred to as "sir" more and more often these days. Maybe it’s the salt and pepper hair, but whatever it is, I don’t like it. My grandfather was "Sir". I’m Jon. Oh well, I might as well get used to it, I’m not getting any younger.

Went to the doc today. After waking up very dizzy, and having pain behind my eyes the last few days I suspected a sinus infection. They didn’t think so, and wrote me scripts for anti-vertigo medication, and an anti-biotic "just in case". But the point of this, they took my blood pressure. I’ve always had high blood pressure, ever since I was in my teens. Never quite so bad they’d force me on medication, but high. Well, they took my bp today: 108 over 78. "Sir" my ass.

Now from the "too much information" category: At the gym locker room the other day, an overweight, balding, 50 + man was standing there with a hair brush blow-drying his pubes. I wasn’t sure whether to be nauseated or amused. I chose amused.

I’ll close with some introspection: In another 40 years (I’m pretty optimistic these days), am I going to be glad I embraced the pharmacological method of treating this disorder? Will the decreased motivation, semi-significant memory loss, lower sexual drive, and diminished creativity be offset by my family’s increased happiness and quality of life? As of now, I think so.

In the words of the immortal Sgt Esterhaus, "Let’s be careful out there".