One unusual theory on 'Why I am a Lesbian' and my Case Manager finally calls!

Sorry, still working through the emotional stuff, hope to be back up and profound by tomorrow. But there is BIG news: The case manager who I (and my GP) have been trying to contact since October called me today! She wanted to let me know that she would no longer be my case manager.

My ‘old’ case manager wanted to tell me about my NEW case manager who (small world) is the woman in charge of the respite where I stayed. Remember, the respite where I wrote the piece for the BBC called “All intimacy; no dignity” about how I had to fight from having my panties forcibly removed my a male care worker among other things. The BBC piece which is being used by an agency in the UK in training care workers as an example of the attitudes toward PWD and “what can go wrong.” So I am very, um, anxious regarding this change.

The other news is that the care worker I like who I thought was bisexual (she kept referring to her “girlfriend”), found out that I have not had consensual sex with a guy. Only it was said, “You’ve NEVER had heterosexual sex!?!” in the same sort of tone one would use to say, “You mean you’ve NEVER seen a banana!” Which then turned into a discussion about how yes, there are some guys I sort of like, but they all end up being gay (clean, eloquent, articulate, caring, wax their body hair…). And she was pretty much in agreement that yes, she was attracted to gay men too. Then there was the on and on about “had I ever seen a penis?” Well, come on, I do most of my work on the internet….yes, I’ve seen a penis. Though I mentioned I had walked in on my father in a bath early in life.

“My God, no wonder you’re a lesbian!”

I was left somewhat flummoxed to try and figure out how to explain that my attraction to Linda has very little if anything to do with: Open the door, glance over, “OMG!” and run out. I certainly don’t put it up there among my top 10 horrid memories; there were far too many school plays for it to make the top 10.

Healthwise, I could not get my diastolic pressure to go under 100, though my systolic pressure was fine. So the readings were 122/108 and so on. From getting up, to afternoon, all the way to 7:00 p.m. the diastolic would not go under 100. This, by the by, is a bad thing. Diastolic is the blood pressure while the heart is at rest (not pushing blood out). This means the autonomic system to open the arteries was not working. I did a theory that because I had not exercised to sweating in two weeks or more, that the autonomic part which opens and closes the arteries was atrophying, much as how I am heat intolerant because I do not sweat (unless I exert myself greatly for about 45 minutes). So I went up to do the boxing class today and exerted myself greatly for an hour. Which means that, as I told my night care worker, “You drew the short straw” (actually it was so slushy in speaking she thought I said, “Do you want to see Linda?”) as the right side of my face is sliding slowly toward the ground. BUT, my diastolic has returned to the 70’s and thus my risk of heart attack and stroke is reduced. Nothing inspires exercise like a more than metaphorical gun at the back of the head (since I am VERY much a risk for stroke).

I did the full time at boxing, which required a conspiracy between my coach Ian and Linda who said they would “hold my arms” to ensure I took I break. Needless to say, I am happy to be back in training (though my face may tend a bit toward the ‘demon child’ look); I am not so sure my body is as happy. I think if I can speak and move say.....more than 1 limb tomorrow, I will consider that a good day. Actually, if I could sleep tonight without waking up screaming (moaning; making odd mooing noises) in pain, that will be a good start. But this is what they mean by “No pain, no gain!” right?