I return on a day most may not fully understand.  Veteran's Day.  My Grandfather was a WWII POW.  Most of us are lucky enough to have our loved ones near, hopefully employed and if so, in a safe trade.  Too many associate this day with sales offered by car dealers.  Some government people have the day off, paid.

I've been quite unwell recently, both physically and mentally.  I met with my p-doc today, as I do every month, due to the fact that Ritilin has to have a new script each month.  My doctor is a brilliant mind.  (As a caveat, I'd write a fabulous review, but my computer doesn't want me to).  He believes I could be med-free in the future.  He has done his level best to help me, even when I wasn't willing/able to help myself.

When I left the last three-month lock-down taking, among other drugs, 600mgs of Thorazine, my doctor said it was "Barbaric."  He took me off it immediately.  When I called to let him know how poorly I was doing, he upped my Effexor from 300mgs to 450mgs, to tide me over until today.  He told me that he'd start me on Pristiq.

I read up on it, and was frankly paranoid.  I worried about the anecdotal stories of withdrawal from Effexor.  I worried that I had waited too long before addressing my depression, something that has put me in the hospital time and again.  I worried Obama would be shot.  I worried about the burden I put on Cricket.  I worried that I'd worked too much over the past eight months.  That I wouldn't be able to work  soon.  About how I could work in the future.

I should have kept the faith.  My doctor added Pristiq, without taking me off Effexor.  He got around the SSDI insurance, by giving me samples of Pristiq.  Something he smilingly said would be given to him for some time.  He's on the edge of psychiatry, as he is willing to prescribe beyond the medically advised limits of a drug.  There are those who might find this irresponsible, even reprehensible.  But he saves lives, which is not the objective of the clinicians and insurance wonks/wankers.

All this pales, when I consider the men and women who fight for their country.  In exchange for poor pay and housing, they put their lives on call.  These are people who love life and country in a way I'll never comprehend.  Many have paid with their lives.  Those that survive pay another price, with mental and physical disabilities.  I would like to offer my most heartfelt thanks to these most brave people.

They are the reason that I am able to enjoy my freedom to write, to live, to be.  My sincere thanks to all of them and the families who surround and support them.  And Cricket, without whom I'd surely be dead.