It was hot in the exam room. I was grateful for the awful magazines (Oprah’s rag, something from AARP, and the typical “look at all the bright, shiny, expensive stuff you know you want but will never bring you happiness” type deals). I used one to fan myself. I felt strangely lethargic. Dull thoughts, thick thoughts, and me pacing around in a circle, waiting for the doc to come in. I was tired. SO tired. I’m tired all the time.
My blood pressure changed significantly in two weeks. At least it sounded significant. What do I know? It’s one of the things I hate about going to the doctor. You go in, and they slip this cuff on your arm and squeeze the hell out of it, and then they give you a number: this over that. They don’t TELL you anything. You ask, and they’re like, “Why are you asking questions? Nobody asks QUESTIONS. I tell them the number, and they nod their heads like good patients, and I leave. Just get with the program.”
Or something like that. I don’t know. I’m not even sure I care at the moment, because at the moment I’m on this antidepressant as well as four other medications, and I don’t exactly feel groovy, but–you might have noticed– I’m not exactly all here (or there) at the moment.
We tweaked the meds for my urticaria, and I’m already feeling improvement. Halle-EFFIN-lujah.
I was seriously losing my shit. I would try SO HARD to ignore the itch, but it would start to feel like hordes of tiny insects gathering under my skin. Scratching helped: for half an instant the bugs would SCATTER, but then they regrouped. Oh ho! They always regrouped…
One of the meds I am back on is specifically for the urticaria. It has the odd effect of knocking me out for hours and hours and hours. I don’t know why. Doc said I should take half a pill at night. It’ll stop the itchies, AND I might get a normal night’s sleep. Sa-WEET. So, I did that, and I did sleep from about midnight until 8:30 or so when my daughter just couldn’t handle it anymore and made me get my lazy ass up. It doesn’t make much difference to the ridiculous sleep deficit I’ve built up for myself, but it’s a step in the right direction. Maybe another two weeks of regular sleep is what I need to reset my internal clock. I’m tired of watching the minutes march by night after night, and me: wide awake and unhappy.
Still going forward with Celexa. The nausea seems to have passed. It just sort of makes me feel mellow, I guess. I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell what’s doing what because there are at least two other meds that, according to their labels: MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS. I’ve seen other people talking about “fibro fog,” and I think I understand what they mean now.
Shit. There was something else I wanted to say. I keep thinking, “Oh, yeah. I wanted to tell them THIS,” but then I write something else entirely, and I keep forgetting what the damn THIS was. It’s here in my head, somewhere. I know it is. Wait. Give me a minute…
Oh. Sorry about that.
Um… What was I saying again?