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Monday, April 25, 2005

Medication update

Friday night, Adam, Rob and I went and saw Kung Fu Hustle. For some reason it's rated R in the States, but is 14A here (under 14 needs adult accompaniment). Because of the timing of the movie, I didn't get my Seroquel dose until probably 10:15, an hour late. Which meant my sleep was off.

Saturday the dog and I went for the run while Rob went into work to catch up some. Rob then came home and we did groceries. I felt okay then. Not fabulous, not bad, just okay. He wanted a roast for dinner so I made roast beef with potatoes and carrots and home made biscuits. Then he said maybe we'd go see the movie The Interpreter, with Nicole Kidman and Sean Penn. He was laying on the bed watching a Ramstein DVD a friend had loaned him and I came and curled up with him. He kept asking me if I was okay and I really said nothing. I couldn't lie but didn't want to let him know what was going through my head.

I finally asked him he minded if we didn't go out. He said sure, I knew there was something wrong. Just tell me what something is wrong he said. But where my head was at, I couldn't speak it, you know? Does anyone else get that? That the thoughts, the headspace you're in, you just cannot form the words to convey it? Some of it is fear: you will think I'm insane if I tell you. But some of it I don't know why I can't speak it. Maybe if I say it and expose my head to the light of sane day, the light will show how dark and diseased it is? Who knows.

We stayed home. He said over and over again "You're tired, you need sleep". I wouldn't admit to being tired. But he finally got me to take my Seroquel dose almost an hour early. I did and was asleep by 8.45.

I slept okay. I remember tossing and turning a bit, which is unusual on Seroquel. That stuff has such a strong sedative effect I never wake up during the night.

Sunday morning woke up at 6.45 am - still not 100% but better. Rob woke around 9. I finally told him around 11 what was going through my head the day before: I didn't want to go to the movie because I was positive that everyone was going to be looking at me, talking about me, and I couldn't take it. He said ah, I see. So are we still paranoid, he asked. I was a little but all I said was, I'm better than yesterday, which wasn't a lie. I also told him that was the same reason (the paranoia) why I didn't go to my cousin's fiancee's bridal shower about a month ago. And this paranoia is tied in part to my appearance: whenever it surfaces, it circles round the issue of my weight gain etc.

Rob said he's noticed that since the medication change, things are happening more frequently (meaning the mood cycles). I said: is that bad? He said: it makes me worry more. And I said don't say that because I don't want you to worry and that will just make me not tell you things because I don't want to worry you further. He said, oh, I figure things out even if you don't tell me.

In a week, Rob is on vacation. I also have my next appt with the little tiny Napoleon pdoc then. I want Rob to come with me. He's not seen this doctor since I was hospitalised in September 2003. I want Rob to be there to back me up when I explain that I've lowered my medication on my own. Rob said - we have to get these cycles under control. I started pleading: I need you to back me up. He said: I will if we can get these to slow down. I said I need you to back me up - they're manageable. I just need sleep and consistent medication. Please back me up. Ok, he said, they are manageable, but we need to work on them. Are you going to back me up? Yes, he said, I'll back you up.

We went to my final hockey game of the winter season for my Sunday league.

By the time the game was done I WAS GREAT. Rob said I played a fantastic game (hockey speak coming up so please forgive the phrases, just nod if you don't get it): I was playing centre and I won every face off, I got the puck on the far boards and was able to deke two players out of their jills before being picked by a third, who shot it back into our area, but our D shot it back out again, I chased it on a breakaway, their goalie had to come 15 feet out of the net to play the puck (their D was well behind me) and she got to it a milisecond before I did, stuff like that.

We got home, I made chocolate brownies. ARGH! I start to swing upwards again a bit and here I am making food that'll just make my ass bigger from the aroma of the chocolate alone. Maybe I can convince Rob to take them to work. On the way home I said to Rob: See? These are manageable, I'm better now. He said, yeah, we'll see. I said you said you'd back me up.

Doctor's in a week and a half (the appt is either Tuesday or Wednesday next week). I'm going to try my damnedest to stay as even as I can for that intervening time. So Rob can look at this latest little blip with a little more long term perspective.


Blogger BotanicalGirl said...
Does anyone else get that? That the thoughts, the headspace you're in, you just cannot form the words to convey it?

Yes, I know exactly what you mean. My boyfriend will worry and ask me what's wrong, and I can't think of any way to explain it in words. I usually wind up wailing 'I don't know', which only keeps him at bay for so long.  

Blogger Dangerous Mind said...
I can relate to this feeling as well.

Thankfully, it's been quite a while since it last happened, and the last three months without any meds have on the whole been good to me.  

Blogger moodymicello said...
Yes, I know full well the inability to verbalize the feelings of panic that something is very wrong and just knowing that even if I could put it into words I would sound like a raving lunatic. I usually respond that "I don't feel 'right'". and let it go at that until I can calm down enough to deal with it.

Blondzila, still no chance to suggest that Napoleon Jr needs to consider breaking out the Topomax which would actually attack the weight as well as stabilize you.  

Blogger EJ said...
I don't think I could have said it better myself. I ended up in a HUGE fight with my boyfriend last week because I just could not speak. I knew My anger was beyond inappropriate that my paranoia was unfounded but I just couldn't say a word.  

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