Category Archives: Bipolar Disorder, Addiction, Conversion Disorder, and Family

How Today Went~ 1 Big Meltdown, 2 Threats, Binge Eating & Bad Driving

I went to bed early last night knowing I had to wake up by 4:45 a.m. to get ready to take my Dad to the V.A. Hospital to have Cataract Surgery.

I have no idea what medications were in my system when I woke up. I won’t know how any of that is really working for quite some time they now tell me. It seems that when you have Chronic Kidney Disease with kidney function now a little under 70% and Celiac Disease some of the medications can actually build up in your system and make your Bipolar worse.

The medications can cause a toxicity. Wasn’t it nice that no one told me this in two years?! So I have no clue what is going on in my body. I only know that the fast acting medications with a shorter “lifespan” are working. Dr. Drew will be excited to know that the only drugs I’m taking that work are Klonopin and Adderall. Hi, Dr. Drew! Still alive!

My father couldn’t remember how to get to the hospital even though he had been there twice before. My sister was driving so he wasn’t paying attention. I put Google Maps on my phone and was using that until he started barking directions at me over the woman’s voice. I tried to ask him how he knew if he couldn’t remember but he’s stubborn. When he says go left you go left even if it means into a fence. (Just kidding) I finally pulled over and asked him where he wanted me to go. The parking lot of the hospital was a mess and had no signs plus it was under construction. He made me park in the employee parking and we ran inside a building. There were several different buildings to pick from.

He was running from floor to floor and I couldn’t keep up. I was getting angry. He was treating me like an idiot, he knew I couldn’t keep up with him and he couldn’t hear me. I finally stopped and yelled some horrible things at him. He had brought me to the Psychiatric Floor where they admit patients. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He didn’t do it on purpose but in my mind at the time I was thinking he did to get back at me. I started to feel sick and tingly. I could smell the hospital smell and hear the patients. I was spinning out of control fast.

Next thing I knew I was slumped against a wall stuttering I guess what sounded like “Daddy”. I was crying too. I know only seconds had gone by but it felt like hours. A man who worked there reached me the same time as my dad did. I could hear my dad tell the man I was okay that I just needed to see him and calm down a little. He was right.

We made it to where he supposed to be but I couldn’t answer the nurse’s questions. I had to try to write my cell number down while my hands shook. I was ashamed for how I treated my dad earlier and how people looked at me. I was ashamed for losing control under stress and stuttering/shaking to the point my dad looked like he would cry.

I was stupid enough to call my sister for comfort. She instead threatened to have me committed. I guess this is going to be the new card she plays every time I do or say something she doesn’t like.

After his eye surgery I took my dad to dialysis and bought as much gluten free crap as I could find and ate it in his truck outside the dialysis center. Three and half hours later we came home. He told me how much he loves and appreciates me and understands that it’s hard for me even if he doesn’t show it. He blames himself. He also said not to listen to my sister because no one is taking me anywhere I don’t want to go. I love my dad.

KIND OF ROTTEN AND INSANE (A Look Inside My Thoughts) *Enter at own risk

Lately I’ve been struggling with trying to use the correct terminology and phrasing so as not to offend anyone. This is exhausting and I will have Carpel Tunnel soon. I am Bipolar, I am an Alcoholic, I have a form of PTSD that is hard to explain, I have multiple health problems that even I don’t understand.

If I personally have what I’m discussing than I shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells talking about it. Too many people get upset because I say I am Bipolar. Implying that I let Bipolar Disorder define who I am. Doesn’t it? Really think about it. Due to recent information from my Doctor, “The Team” estimates that I probably started to exhibited signs of Bipolar Disorder as early as 9 years old. I hadn’t told him about rocking back and forth or banging my head when I was little until our last session. He actually wants to do some testing to make sure I have the correct diagnosis or if another diagnosis needs to be added. YAY!!

I’m tired of being a science experiment. My thoughts are always dark. They always have been. Don’t get me wrong, some are humorous, but still dark. Only I would find them funny.

Even my choices in Movies and TV are dark. I have a tendency to always pick Action/Drama/Revenge themes. Anything else I get bored. Give me John Wick, Banshee, Gladiator, Justified, Vikings, In a Valley of Violence, Happy Valley, The Magnificent Seven, Unforgiven, and it goes on and on. If there’s a dog involved like in John Wick, forget it I’m in.

Most of my favorite songs are dark. I never listen to “happy” music. I find comfort in the darkness of things. I don’t know why.

On the other hand I also feel too much and I hate it. There are times I wish I could rip my heart or brain out because the pain is so bad it becomes physical.

I walked in to the kitchen earlier to clean near the bird cages. I said hello to both birds like I always do. When I looked at our Sulphur Crested Cockatoo I saw she had a hole in her chest like she had been shot. I felt sick. I tried to keep her calm so I could get a better look at it. I needed to know if she did it to herself or if there was something in her cage. I told my dad who just sat there and did nothing. They are his birds. I understand he had dialysis today but if a guy came to the door wanting to show or talk pigeons you can bet your ass he would’ve gotten off the couch.

I have a magnifier with a light that I used to look at the wound. I didn’t need the magnifier just the light. When I was done I put my head on the table and cried. No, I didn’t just cry, I sobbed uncontrollably. I then went to my dad and told him “If she did that to herself, YOU WILL HUMANELY EUTHANIZE HER, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? And you will get up and look at the wound NOW!”. Do I like talking to my dad that way? No. But I refuse to let any animal suffer because of an owner’s ignorance or neglect.

When a bird plucks out it’s own chest feather’s it isn’t good to begin with. But she was doing okay. If a bird goes as far as self injury like pecking a giant hole in it’s chest, that is a completely different matter. At this point the bird is usually too far gone to be helped. This is my father’s fault. He won’t listen, he won’t let anyone else help him, and his pride will not only hurt his health but every living thing around him.

I feel like I need to do something away from this environment. But I might need a car. Priorities suck. Screw ’em. I’m not sure how much more I can take. My birthday is coming up, it’s never celebrated, just like Christmas wasn’t, the anniversary of my mom’s death is also coming up, the next few months are always my hardest and this year I’m not sure how I’ll do. Physically I’m not well and losing weight which means I’m not absorbing all my meds correctly. There’s a constant dull ache in my head and I have to tell myself to unclench my jaw every 20 minutes.

Oh well, Happy New Year! Here’s a pic of my cookies.img_20161230_110806_538.jpg


Fear- it’s a word that describes most of my life. It’s a feeling I still live with everyday. The worse part is not even knowing what the hell you’re afraid of, unless it’s everything.

I live with a constant lump in my throat and a feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me “RUN! DANGER! DANGER! SOMETHING HORRIBLE IS COMING!”. When you have had this for 30 years it is exhausting. You will do anything to get rid of it.

There are only a few things that stop this for me. Alcohol is one of them. Unfortunately the next day I am flooded with blocked Serotonin and feel 10 times worse.

While you are drinking alcohol, a wall is put up that blocks off the Serotonin going to your brain. Serotonin is what makes you feel “happy” or “good”. When the alcohol leaves your system, you are flooded with the blocked Serotonin leaving you feeling agitated, restless, sweating, with a headache, possible diarrhea, nausea, and shivering.

The other two things that help with my feelings of fear over everything are Klonopin or just sleeping. Neither of those are much of a solution either.

I’m not sure what I hate most. The actual fear and anxiety or not remembering the cause of it.

I don’t think most people can understand what a mindf*ck  it is when several doctors tell you there’s something your own brain doesn’t want you to remember. (unlike Dr. Drew these gentlemen were experts in the field and one spoke before the Senate on behalf of people with Conversion Disorder). Some patients, once they are told, stop having symptoms. But like everything else there are varying factors. These people didn’t have dual diagnoses, addiction, or were diagnosed in an early stage.

When you have another mental health problem or two and are not diagnosed until later, your chances of the symptoms getting better are slim. That’s me. It isn’t that I have no hope or I want to wallow in misery. I just have no tolerance for sugar coating anything that shouldn’t be.

Bipolar Disorder, Addiction, and Conversion Disorder are horrific for some of us. It will not get better no matter what we do. There is no yoga, meditation, visualization techniques, acupuncture, aromatherapy, cupping, leeches, blood letting, crystals, spells, chanting, prayer, candles, rebirthing, that will do anything to improve my situation.

I’ve been told by more than 2 doctors that my only choice now is more ECT (shock therapy). I don’t know if I can handle it again. The horror in my sister’s eyes when she first saw me was a lot to take in. When she told me what I was saying and how frightened she was that she had “lost” me forever I didn’t understand at first. She thought I would be stuck as a little kid forever. I was talking like the both of us were 5 years old. I couldn’t differentiate what year it was or how old we were at first. It killed her when I kept asking when “Mommy was coming”. I don’t know how she did it. How she kept it together. I’m glad she told my dad to stay away for the day. I don’t think he could’ve handled it all.

I’ve seen my father sink to his knees and howl in pain once in his life. I never want to see it again.

That’s another problem. I can’t absorb meds or vitamins but I can absorb other peoples pain. I’m a sponge. It sinks into me and finds a home. I almost welcome it.e43ed585e1f6acd831a52d97161242f196bd467dc0ba78cfa65724df5175bfe0

Trouble With “Far Behind”

When I was angry and upset I sent the link for my “Far Behind” post to my sister. I honestly didn’t remember doing it until she brought it up this morning. Now we are no longer speaking.

She disputes most of what I remembered and wants her picture taken off anything of mine. She also wants me to “get help” and “put my big girl pants on”. I have only been back from Florida 2 days and have already had arguments with my sister and father. Both of them telling me I need to change and one telling me I’m lucky he put’s up with me.

Here is one of my favorite movie quotes that sums up how I feel most of the time about the people I love. It’s from the movie Gladiator. It’s Commodus talking to his father, Caesar.

One kind word, one full hug while you pressed me to your chest and held me tight, would have been like the sun on my heart for a thousand years. What is it in me you hate so much? All I ever wanted was to live up to you, Caesar, Father. Father, I would butcher the whole world if you would only love me….

I have thought of this scene often since seeing the movie 3 times when it was first released in the theater. I often felt like there was something about me my sister hated and no matter what I did nothing was going to change that. I also felt like I embarrassed her. This was before I was diagnosed as Bipolar and before I started drinking heavily. I’ve said it before, I have always had an idea about how sisters should be. They should spend time together laughing, sharing memories, making new ones, and cherishing the time they have left. It’s what I want, it’s what my mother would’ve wanted.

But I can’t continue to let this rip me to shreds. I hang up the phone with her with a buzzing in my head, a static that I want to make disappear. I want the pain in my chest to go away, I want the hollow feeling in my stomach to stop. I find myself looking around for a way to do this. I have hit my head against the wall several times, I have thrown things, I have picked up knives. I’m lucky I could see through the red in my tears to put the knives down and not hurt myself. I still hurt.

I wish I could say it was just my sister I felt this way about but it isn’t. There are other people I allow to make me feel this way. If I could snap out of it I would. If I could put my big girl pants on I would. If I could be happy I would.mv5bmta0mdewndm0mtveqtjeqwpwz15bbwu3mdq0ndy3mtq__v1_sy1000_cr0015041000_al_


I’ll be returning home from Florida on Sunday. That’s if I don’t get bumped because of the weather. I do want to go home, but know that nothing has changed. When I arrived here from Rhode Island, it didn’t take long to figure out I had brought my loneliness with me.

I had also brought my fears and anxiety. It doesn’t matter where you go your head goes with you. I have cried here, laughed here, and gained 10 pounds here. The best part was being able to spend some time with my Auntie Lee. My mom’s sister. She reminds me of my mom so much it hurts. We haven’t been able to see each other as much as I wanted. She is in the middle of leaving one job for another.

The house I rented is beautiful. I was going to stay another week but Capital One froze my credit card for suspected fraud. There was no fraud. The Real Estate company was going to give me a deal if I went directly through them and not a third party. I called Capital One to ask about a cash advance because I had never done one. That’s when they froze my account. This left me in a very bad place. I don’t like feeling like I have no back up plan or funds. I needed a place to stay in case the expected Hurricane became worse. I needed to fill my medications.

Capital One insisted on having copies of my driver’s license, Social Security card, and bank statement to take the hold off. I’m on vacation. I don’t travel with my social security card. I have them my driver’s license, Medicare card and bank statement. It wasn’t good enough. I fought, cried, and begged for 4 days.

At one point a woman asked “Don’t you have any friends that can take a picture of your social security card?” and she laughed. I didn’t. Because I don’t.

On the fourth day a nice older man who looked at everything with fresh eyes and was disgusted, took over the case. 45 minutes later the hold was taken off and I thanked him while stuttering and crying.

Humans are the same no matter where you go.

My kidney and stents are giving me major problems. The Psychiatrist still insists my medications are not affected by my CKD or stents. He also insists my having Celiac Disease doesn’t matter with my meds. If this is all true than everything my family says is true. I am not trying hard enough or at all.

Crazy From The Heat (Not Really)

In four days I leave for Florida. I bought a one-way ticket and rented a beach house for two weeks. Can I afford this? No. I put it on a credit card and hopefully I can pay it back. I needed some time away. Most people think that because I’m on Disability my life is filled with TV and eating Bon Bons on the couch. It’s far from it.

Everyday I am in physical and emotional pain. Everyday I wake up with a lump in my throat, a stiff neck, lower back screaming, hips popping, and a wave of dizziness that let’s me know I’m still here. Lucky me. If it’s a Monday I look forward to my dad coming home from Dialysis. I watch the clock. If it’s past 10:30 I know it’s going to be bad. This means that the staff has infiltrated his fistula again and can’t stop his bleeding. They have to leave him “clamped” longer until the bleeding stops. They blame him and make him feel like a scolded school boy. They have even gone as far as putting him at a station without a TV for a week and that was built for a Right Handed Patient, this means the tubes and wires have to across my dad’s stomach and chest making it hard to relax for four hours.

My sister said today that he needs to speak up for himself. She was pissed at me because I hung up on her. I hung up on her because she wasn’t paying attention to anything I was saying. I couldn’t reach her all day yesterday. She had just come back from another week long vacation where there was supposedly no cell phone reception. This was her seventh or eighth this summer. I’m afraid to leave now because she won’t even answer the phone when she’s 10 minutes away. What if something happens to my Dad while I’m gone and she doesn’t answer the phone? Why can’t she understand that I am sick too?

Lately my stuttering is so bad it scares me. I find myself on the floor in the bathroom rocking back and forth, stuttering to myself. When I stutter it’s to a point where it sounds like a deaf person trying to speak for the first time. I mean no disrespect, I mean my voice has the same pitch and tone. The Doctors found it odd themselves, it was unusual for someone with a stutter to have a change in their pitch and tone. It was a key factor in the diagnosis of the type of Conversion Disorder I have. It’s why it sounds so disturbing to the people who know me. I don’t find it funny and I will never understand why or how anyone could laugh or mimic someone like me. I do think it’s unacceptable the same way my dad’s Dialysis care is.

I find my fuse is short lately. I also find myself not really caring. I have had episodes where I have let things that bother me simmer for so long that one day I see red and hear a rushing sound in my ears. If I continue to swallow it down it’s going to kill me. I’m worried my dad is going to hurt himself when I’m away. He’s been extremely depressed. It’s been 90 degrees here and he’s working under his truck for 8 straight hours without stopping. He does these things just to see if he still can. He’ll lift a 100 pound bag of grain just to see if he can. He just had his Aortic Aneurysm repaired and he isn’t supposed to lift anything heavy with the arm that has the fistula! I can’t take it some days.

I also wish my twin sister would love and understand me someday. I wish she would stop with the guilt and shame. I wish she understood that I didn’t take attention away from her consciously. I don’t remember most of it because of alcohol or I just don’t remember it. I know, thanks to my one friend, that I’m not that crazy. She has one of the best memories and wonders what the hell my sister’s problem is. My best friend remembers the bullying and teasing I went through. That’s putting it nicely. While that was happening my sister had a large amount of friends and wasn’t bullied or teased. She never intervened on my behalf. When I became a Senior in High School and started drinking I turned a little mean and they left me alone. The kids in my school knew who I hung out with outside of school at that time and were afraid of them. For once I caught a break until I realized I was tossed into a much worse place. A place of worse degradation, brutality, and suffering.


For once I tried to do something charitable that didn’t benefit me. I failed. It’s a feeling I’m used to. I try not to get my hopes up ever for anything. Our family motto is “If something bad is going to happen it’s going to be to us”. Recently finding out my mom’s maiden name actually meant “dark stranger” or “sinister” in some translations didn’t surprise me at all. My mom couldn’t just get Lung Cancer. She had Cervical Cancer while pregnant with twins and had to have an emergency hysterectomy after we were born. Years later she then was diagnosed with Lung Cancer. Of course that isn’t what killed her, Congestive Heart Failure did several agonizing years later.

My father has 9 lives. I’m afraid they’re almost used up. From saving the kids stuck on the railroad tracks and almost getting himself killed, the Portuguese Man Of War, 2 bouts of Peritonitis, a Quadruple Bypass, Lyme Disease 2 times, ran over his foot with the lawn mower, a rare virus that destroyed his kidneys putting him on dialysis, Temporal Arteritis that they caught minutes before he stroked out, bursting his eardrum 4 times, Aortic Aneurysm, I’m pretty sure I’m missing stuff but you get the point. And you might have guessed he hates to go to the Doctor and waits until the last minute.

I’ve never won at Bingo, scratch cards, or any contests. The one contest I won was rigged so that everyone won. So I was excited for exactly one minute.

I wanted the Janie’s Got A Fund Fundraiser to work because I know it’s legit, it’s something I’ve experienced, it’s needed, and important.

It bothers me that so many in my family didn’t take me seriously or care. My sister was busy at the beach and then going to a concert and after party because her husband of course knew the band. He used to be in a side project with one of the women in the band. They were going to be hanging out in Newport for the entire day and night. I’m not sure if anyone knows much about Newport, R.I. but where they were going is pretty high end. It isn’t jealousy, it’s pain. A lot of pain. I bought some new colored pencils yesterday. That was my big day. And I actually washed my hair.

The first pic is my Dad with Nixon, the next is him probably getting his first bout of peritonitis in the Navy, and then my sweet beautiful mom. I’ve probably shown these before but I miss her unconditional love and his smile that disappeared with her. He used to make me laugh even when I didn’t want to. Now it’s mostly yelling and tears.


First, the good news. I booked the trip to Orlando, Florida 5 days 4 nights with a Meet and Greet for Sebastian Bach. Between Airfare, Hotel, Ticket and VIP package I spent a total of $588. I thought it was a pretty good deal and will admit to being somewhat manic when making my decision.

My father is less than thrilled. He’s actually kind of pissed. I think he’s more afraid than anything. This will be my first concert sober. I have not really been out at night for the last 7 years. My dad has this weird notion that you only drink alcohol at night. Probably because of all the late night phone calls he received to come get me at the hospital, jail, or some weird place. I can’t blame him for feeling the way he does. After coming so close to death in the last 10 months and knowing what my future probably holds, I decided to start living. I can’t be afraid of letting my dad down or making him angry over the smallest things. Because I am Bipolar with Conversion Disorder and an extreme Anxiety Disorder, my life is automatically shortened by 12 years. The numbers for people with Celiac Disease is a 10 year loss of life expectancy. If you add in my Stage Three Chronic Kidney Disease I’m toast in a few years! I really do take these numbers with a grain of salt but it’s still doesn’t change the facts. Life is short.

I have been asked why I want to do this trip. My dad will never understand and most people won’t. I FEEL EVERYTHING TEN TIMES MORE THAN EVERYONE ELSE. I am sensitive, dramatic, I read into everything someone says or does, I’m hurt too easily, I live in the past where there are good memories and monsters. This is me. My one outlet has always been music.

When I listen to a song or watch a performance and I feel moved or understood that is the greatest feeling in the world. I envy those that can get up on a stage and belt out a song with all of their feelings and pain or joy spilling out of them. If I could sing out my pain I would be happy. Don’t get me wrong, I still try to sing in my car, I’m just not very good. It’s still a release. A song can bring me up or bring me down. When I hear lyrics that resonate with events in my life it’s even more invigorating.

Now I’ll move on to Humans. For some reason I don’t consider myself to be in this category. lol I don’t know why. The loss of humanity I see on a daily basis just enforces my need not to be associated with other people. There was a post on Facebook about how Doctors freely give out too much pain medication, knowing the person is an addict. That they are doing this for the money. This person had lost her best friend to a drug overdose. They both had worked for me for a few years. I was a little disgruntled with her placing all of the blame at the feet of the Doctors. I knew back then that her friend had Mental Health issues. I was just too caught up in my own crap to want to help.

I believe that blaming the Doctors is pointless. Most addicts are drinking or using drugs to escape something. It might be trauma or Mental Illness the point is they don’t or I didn’t drink a case of beer and a pint of anything a day because I liked the taste of alcohol and making an ass out of myself. I did it because the pain, anxiety, worthlessness, fear, all of it became too much. I did do some drugs but alcohol was my choice. Notice I use the word choice. Alcohol isn’t a thing that holds you down and makes you drink it. You make a choice and keep making that choice to feel normal.  It bothers me that more people do not see this as a Mental Health Issue. If you go to a “specialist”, whether it’s for your back or your brain, a lot of them will not be as knowledgeable about other health matters as they should be. A back doctor might suspect drug abuse but doesn’t really know the ins and outs of addiction.

I myself had gone to a Neurologist who suggested I have a drink or two a day for my tremors. He is a well respected doctor. I asked him if he had read my file. He said he had. I said “You know I’m an alcoholic right?” he says “Oh but you can still have one or two drinks can’t you?”. He hasn’t been the only one. I can’t count how many health professionals do not understand  what Gluten is. This is where there needs to be a change.

Sebastian Bach and Manic Thinking

I know that I have been feeling a little manic lately. It doesn’t change the fact that things in my house suck. I mention taking a vacation alone and my father starts yelling. I’m 43!! When does the guilt stop? How long do I have to pay for my mistakes? I’m 7 years sober and still I’m questioned about where I’ve been. Do you want to smell my breath too? I wanted to take a 4 and half hour plane ride to see Sebastian Bach at the House of Blues and spend some time in the sun and relax! Let my siblings take care of my dad for once

Music has always been an outlet for me. I can’t listen to it in my house because I get yelled at about the noise or sarcastic comments are made. Sebastian Bach is one of my favorite artists to listen to and try to sing along with. I’ve never seen a rock singer with such a professional sounding voice and mannerisms. I love to watch him perform. Just like I have felt about other musicians. Although I’m smarter now. I have also never had the experience of going to a concert skinny and sober. You know what it felt like all those years to watch my bestfriend and everyone else in their rock n roll outfits while I had to wear a T-shirt and jeans. My bestfriend once had thigh high leather boots, a leather mini skirt, and a red bustier. She also had a diamond studded dog collar on. Not real diamonds of course. Her blonde hair with light strawberry red natural streaks was down to her rear end but teased as big as we could get it. She also has Hazel/Green eyes and a bunny nose. She drew attention wherever she went. Even with normal clothes on.

Now she looks a lot older and would never put those clothes on except if it was Halloween. Her boyfriend likes her to look natural of course so she no longer puts blonde in her hair or wears much make-up. Funny how when they meet her she’s all dolled up. After they are established in their relationship with her they want her to change how she looks. The fact that she does kind of bothers me.

I’m not overweight anymore and can wear what I want. I was always told “You have such a pretty face but……” Not now. I have not had a chance since I lost weight to kind of show myself off to people who made my life miserable or were just hurtful. It’s petty I know but I still want that chance. I know I have spring fever and it’s always a bad time for me. I still want to spread my wings. My father is worse by the day and I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. I have Conversion Disorder/PTSD. Living with someone that you have become afraid of, a person you once loved and respected, is difficult to say the least. When asked to describe my father I always said the same. “He is the most honorable man I know”. Now he sometimes isn’t honorable at all. That fact splits my heart and head in two.

Scattered Pieces

I’ve been all over the place lately. Up, down, up and down again. I’m kind of up right now. My anxiety is through the roof. My father is scaring me with his behavior on the Prednisone and he pulled his back out. He’s not the type of person to let himself heal. I’m tired of fighting with him.

I want to take a small vacation to Florida. It’s a 4 hour flight. Not that far away. My dad starts freaking out saying how vacations are “useless” and for weak people. I think it’s because he’s afraid I’ll drink or do something stupid. I can’t keep living like this. I want to see the ocean, sun, museums, gardens, and people! Just a few days away from the chaos that is this house. I can’t make my jewelry because the dog is all over me and when I try to color the dog knocks over my holder for the pencils so I wind up play 52 pick up but with 170 colored pencils! I wanted to try to sell my jewelry and no one I’ve asked seams to interested in helping me. But it’s ok that I gave my sister a makeover yesterday that would have cost her at least $250 for free. She looked 10 years younger. Did I get anything for it? Just the satisfaction of knowing I did a good job. It’s like pulling teeth to get anything else.

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