Originally posted July 26/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"
OK, so I spoke too soon... but I said I wouldn't write any more about that, so let's just move on, shall we?*
I think I got to sleep at a good time last night- I don't really remember. I know I stayed up later than I had planned to because I found a bunch of Martha Stewart Living and Real Simple magazines I hadn't hacked to pieces yet. It's not a malicious thing- it's a dream thing. See, I don't have room to keep all those magazines around, but they have so much nice stuff in them... good things, if you will. Things that I hope will some day be a part of my life. Alright, so I know I'm never going to be the type who sets out an elaborate brunch with a selection of fresh-squeezed juices for weekend guests, but I can pretend, right? Houses in the country, huge gardens, heirloom chicken breeds, big, quiet libraries, matching (new) furniture, flower arrangements, hand-made gifts- I even cut out colours I really like. And the fact that every room in every picture is neat as a pin would indicate that I also want a maid, since I've never been able to keep up with that crap. Oh, and FOOD- Christmas dinners, pies, cookies, seafood, the occasional well-presented salad- and I do keep the recipes, just in case. So that was my evening- magazines, scissors, and the end of "Wedding Crashers", which we started on Sunday.
More dreams after that, but not of the "if I won the lottery" variety. Sleep dreams. I've never had "normal" dreams- those are AJ's territory. Oh, HE gets to meet famous people and hang out with them in his dreams; he gets to go out with the girls on Friends (and presumably bang them- I didn't ask). I get to dream about work, and how we had this plan to use bales of used clothing to smuggle booze over the border in case prohibition returned. And then some Russian border guards (?) demanded that we empty our pockets and surrender our Chap Sticks before we came back to Canada. And there was a boat... Anyway, I don't think I actually got a lot of good sleep last night.
I'm going back to bed.
*though I'd like to thank the very helpful guys at work who a) offered to get me a bucket and b) suggested sticking my head out the side door, since it was closer than the bathroom.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Friday, February 5, 2010
Good News For Me (and You!)
Originally posted July 25/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"
I have such good news for you. This may be the last time you endure my complaining about vomit, at least for the time being. Aren't you SO happy?!!
Why? 'Cause I only did it ONCE yesterday. Still queasy as hell, but it stayed down, and THAT, my friends, is progress.
That means it's time for me to post The Barf Ratings. This is maybe the grossest idea I've ever had, but really, what else are you thinking about when you're face-down in the can?* The Barf Ratings contain my vast body of knowledge concerning exactly what tastes terrible, bad, and slightly less bad coming back up- though none of it's pleasant, really. This is just my opinion...
"BEST" (comparatively speaking... bleh)
-fruit, esp. watermelon
-cinnamon toast and orange juice
-toast with strawberry jam
"NOT THE WORST, BUT NASTY ANYWAY"
- pizza
-cheerios (honey nut)
-melba toast
-tea
"MAKES ME WANT TO BARF SOME MORE"
-turkey dinner
-clamato juice
-sandwiches
-KD
-saltines
-nothing (empty stomach)
"WORST EVER"
- not from experience, but just to keep things in perspective, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that throwing up gravel, broken glass, raw fish or hypodermic needles would be waaaaay worse than anything that came out of me this week. See? That makes me feel much better.
So that's that. I can almost promise that this is the last entry about barf, vomit, spewing, upchucking, praying to the goddess Porcelina**, etc, at least until I write about someone else's...
*Except, maybe, for "He did this to me. HE DID THIS TO ME!"... but I'm saving that one.
** thanks to Jenny for reminding me of that one. :)
I have such good news for you. This may be the last time you endure my complaining about vomit, at least for the time being. Aren't you SO happy?!!
Why? 'Cause I only did it ONCE yesterday. Still queasy as hell, but it stayed down, and THAT, my friends, is progress.
That means it's time for me to post The Barf Ratings. This is maybe the grossest idea I've ever had, but really, what else are you thinking about when you're face-down in the can?* The Barf Ratings contain my vast body of knowledge concerning exactly what tastes terrible, bad, and slightly less bad coming back up- though none of it's pleasant, really. This is just my opinion...
"BEST" (comparatively speaking... bleh)
-fruit, esp. watermelon
-cinnamon toast and orange juice
-toast with strawberry jam
"NOT THE WORST, BUT NASTY ANYWAY"
- pizza
-cheerios (honey nut)
-melba toast
-tea
"MAKES ME WANT TO BARF SOME MORE"
-turkey dinner
-clamato juice
-sandwiches
-KD
-saltines
-nothing (empty stomach)
"WORST EVER"
- not from experience, but just to keep things in perspective, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that throwing up gravel, broken glass, raw fish or hypodermic needles would be waaaaay worse than anything that came out of me this week. See? That makes me feel much better.
So that's that. I can almost promise that this is the last entry about barf, vomit, spewing, upchucking, praying to the goddess Porcelina**, etc, at least until I write about someone else's...
*Except, maybe, for "He did this to me. HE DID THIS TO ME!"... but I'm saving that one.
** thanks to Jenny for reminding me of that one. :)
Yakkity-Yak (Warning: Grossness ahead)
I HATE THROWING UP.
Is there anything less dignified than sticking your face in a toilet bowl for the purpose of heaving up perfectly good food? Don't answer that... I just remembered what happens at the hospital. In any case, it's disgusting.
Somebody needs to tell this fetus that the morning sickness is supposed to be getting BETTER, not worse. Up until this week, I wasn't actually throwing up. Yesterday I tossed everything I ate in the morning; just now, same thing.
On the positive side of things, my toilet has never been cleaner. Darned if I'm sticking my face in a bowl that smells like... well... toilet cleaner is preferable, if not pleasant.
And for the record, puke being a lovely shade of pink and tasting like watermelon does not make the experience any more pleasant.
* * * * * * *
Other than that, I'm... well, not fine, but I'm surviving. I saw my "brain doctor" yesterday (people get so uncomfortable if I say psychiatrist, shrink, etc... I'm not crazy, just sick). My assessment put me at Severe Depression, which is unfortunate- I was doing so well. The good news is that my meds aren't hurting the baby; good thing, since we're past the most dangerous part now, anyway. Probably. We're still not sure how old he/she is.
Hot flashes- check. Exhaustion- check. I'll live. It all just makes it hard to be excited, you know? At least I've got AJ- he gave my tummy a goodnight kiss last night. It was sweet. :)
Is there anything less dignified than sticking your face in a toilet bowl for the purpose of heaving up perfectly good food? Don't answer that... I just remembered what happens at the hospital. In any case, it's disgusting.
Somebody needs to tell this fetus that the morning sickness is supposed to be getting BETTER, not worse. Up until this week, I wasn't actually throwing up. Yesterday I tossed everything I ate in the morning; just now, same thing.
On the positive side of things, my toilet has never been cleaner. Darned if I'm sticking my face in a bowl that smells like... well... toilet cleaner is preferable, if not pleasant.
And for the record, puke being a lovely shade of pink and tasting like watermelon does not make the experience any more pleasant.
* * * * * * *
Other than that, I'm... well, not fine, but I'm surviving. I saw my "brain doctor" yesterday (people get so uncomfortable if I say psychiatrist, shrink, etc... I'm not crazy, just sick). My assessment put me at Severe Depression, which is unfortunate- I was doing so well. The good news is that my meds aren't hurting the baby; good thing, since we're past the most dangerous part now, anyway. Probably. We're still not sure how old he/she is.
Hot flashes- check. Exhaustion- check. I'll live. It all just makes it hard to be excited, you know? At least I've got AJ- he gave my tummy a goodnight kiss last night. It was sweet. :)
muh.
Originally posted July 13/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"
I've been nauseous (nauseated?) for three weeks.
I recently outgrew all of my bras... except for one. It's good to have one.
I'm exhausted.
I'm depressed.
Did I mention I've been sick? Every freakin' afternoon and evening.
I'm crying at books, movies, CBC news stories about former porn stars now reaching out to get sex industry workers to church... thank God I haven't seen any long-distance commercials recently.
I don't feel like eating, but not eating makes me sick, so I eat. And then I want to barf, anyway.
I don't want to get fat.
Most of you already know why this is happening to me. Anyone who doesn't... well, it's easy to figure out, right? I'll be excited when I'm not drinking pepto-bismol like it's water, I'm sure.
I'm worried about me.
I've been nauseous (nauseated?) for three weeks.
I recently outgrew all of my bras... except for one. It's good to have one.
I'm exhausted.
I'm depressed.
Did I mention I've been sick? Every freakin' afternoon and evening.
I'm crying at books, movies, CBC news stories about former porn stars now reaching out to get sex industry workers to church... thank God I haven't seen any long-distance commercials recently.
I don't feel like eating, but not eating makes me sick, so I eat. And then I want to barf, anyway.
I don't want to get fat.
Most of you already know why this is happening to me. Anyone who doesn't... well, it's easy to figure out, right? I'll be excited when I'm not drinking pepto-bismol like it's water, I'm sure.
I'm worried about me.
This Is Where I Live
Originally posted July 7/2007 in "Allison Wonderland"
Depression is kind of like the Transformers, though WAY less cool- it's more than meets the eye.
If you take an assessment quiz for Depression, you get the questions almost everyone would expect to find, asking about feelings of hopelessness and despair, thoughts about harming yourself (or worse)- pretty much emo stuff, but without the music and the drama. And if you're answering "yes" to any of those questions, you're in a bad way. The deepest levels of Depression suck you down into an inky black whirlpool where you don't know what's up or down, and you can't see your hand in front of your face. Nothing makes sense, and nothing good seems true anymore.
If you're lucky, you get help, and they find a treatment (or combination of treatments) that works for you. Maybe what you're going through is situational, brought on by a traumatic event; if you're really "lucky" (ha ha), you'll be fine after cognitive therapy and a course of antidepressants to help your brain get through the worst of it. If you're like me, it's in your genes. You don't see it coming- you're probably too tired to see it coming, thanks to either insomnia or too much of what they call "non-restorative sleep"... and you're not going to get over it. You learn to fight as hard as you can when it's getting bad, and you get over feeling weak for needing medication to deal with what so many people refuse to accept as a real disease. But it gets a bit better.
At first it feels so good to get out of that gaping, sucking whirlpool- anything is better than that. But then you realize that you're now floating on a dead, grey sea. Alone on your raft, no land in sight; no birds, no whales, no interesting crap floating by in the water.
Some days are ok, some are actually good, but there are always relapses. Sometimes a medication just craps out on you, leaving you free-falling back to square one. Sometimes you encounter one of those traumatic events that would break anyone. And sometimes you're just too tired to fight. Even if you don't end up crying for days or having a panic attack, you always have the other stuff to deal with- the "more than meets the eye" crap.
The complete emotional flatness that comes when the medications won't let you cry.
The lack of interest in absolutely everything that used to bring you joy- reading, movies, fishing, walks in the park... you'd rather be in bed.
The guilt that you try to talk yourself out of; your brain says it's not your fault, but something else tells you that you're not doing enough, that your family and friends are disappointed in you...
The not wanting to be. Oh, you're not going to hurt yourself or anyone else... but sometimes you just want to give up. You don't want to be who you are, but you don't want to be anyone else, either.
Yeah, those days suck. It's not wallowing in misery, it's not spiritual weakness or lack of faith, it's not a cry for attention. Actually, on days like that, I'd rather be left alone. It's just that old sickness coming back, just reminding you that no matter how much positive thinking you do, how you practice turning around your "cognitive fallacies", how well you think your medications are balancing the chemicals and receptors in your brain... it's there, it's yours. Just like a person with diabetes can watch her diet, take her insulin, test her blood sugar, and still have bad days, so do we. We hope this is as bad as it gets, but can't help but remember those who lost the fight. It can be a deadly disease.
Why am I writing this today? Because it's been a week of ups and downs- mostly downs. I haven't been crying, but I haven't been happy. I blame hormones for a lot of it this time around, and stressful events, good and bad. I'll get through it, just like I always do, and I'll try to be thankful that it's not worse. A bad day isn't always tears and yelling; a bad day is often just not wanting to do, or go, or be.
I just wanted to put this out there. You all know someone who's struggling with Depression, the "common cold of mental illness"- though significantly more dangerous than a case of the sniffles. Please be gentle if they're having a bad day... or week... or year. Even if we can't always say so, your friendship means so much.
Depression is kind of like the Transformers, though WAY less cool- it's more than meets the eye.
If you take an assessment quiz for Depression, you get the questions almost everyone would expect to find, asking about feelings of hopelessness and despair, thoughts about harming yourself (or worse)- pretty much emo stuff, but without the music and the drama. And if you're answering "yes" to any of those questions, you're in a bad way. The deepest levels of Depression suck you down into an inky black whirlpool where you don't know what's up or down, and you can't see your hand in front of your face. Nothing makes sense, and nothing good seems true anymore.
If you're lucky, you get help, and they find a treatment (or combination of treatments) that works for you. Maybe what you're going through is situational, brought on by a traumatic event; if you're really "lucky" (ha ha), you'll be fine after cognitive therapy and a course of antidepressants to help your brain get through the worst of it. If you're like me, it's in your genes. You don't see it coming- you're probably too tired to see it coming, thanks to either insomnia or too much of what they call "non-restorative sleep"... and you're not going to get over it. You learn to fight as hard as you can when it's getting bad, and you get over feeling weak for needing medication to deal with what so many people refuse to accept as a real disease. But it gets a bit better.
At first it feels so good to get out of that gaping, sucking whirlpool- anything is better than that. But then you realize that you're now floating on a dead, grey sea. Alone on your raft, no land in sight; no birds, no whales, no interesting crap floating by in the water.
Some days are ok, some are actually good, but there are always relapses. Sometimes a medication just craps out on you, leaving you free-falling back to square one. Sometimes you encounter one of those traumatic events that would break anyone. And sometimes you're just too tired to fight. Even if you don't end up crying for days or having a panic attack, you always have the other stuff to deal with- the "more than meets the eye" crap.
The complete emotional flatness that comes when the medications won't let you cry.
The lack of interest in absolutely everything that used to bring you joy- reading, movies, fishing, walks in the park... you'd rather be in bed.
The guilt that you try to talk yourself out of; your brain says it's not your fault, but something else tells you that you're not doing enough, that your family and friends are disappointed in you...
The not wanting to be. Oh, you're not going to hurt yourself or anyone else... but sometimes you just want to give up. You don't want to be who you are, but you don't want to be anyone else, either.
Yeah, those days suck. It's not wallowing in misery, it's not spiritual weakness or lack of faith, it's not a cry for attention. Actually, on days like that, I'd rather be left alone. It's just that old sickness coming back, just reminding you that no matter how much positive thinking you do, how you practice turning around your "cognitive fallacies", how well you think your medications are balancing the chemicals and receptors in your brain... it's there, it's yours. Just like a person with diabetes can watch her diet, take her insulin, test her blood sugar, and still have bad days, so do we. We hope this is as bad as it gets, but can't help but remember those who lost the fight. It can be a deadly disease.
Why am I writing this today? Because it's been a week of ups and downs- mostly downs. I haven't been crying, but I haven't been happy. I blame hormones for a lot of it this time around, and stressful events, good and bad. I'll get through it, just like I always do, and I'll try to be thankful that it's not worse. A bad day isn't always tears and yelling; a bad day is often just not wanting to do, or go, or be.
I just wanted to put this out there. You all know someone who's struggling with Depression, the "common cold of mental illness"- though significantly more dangerous than a case of the sniffles. Please be gentle if they're having a bad day... or week... or year. Even if we can't always say so, your friendship means so much.
Ach, Mine Schvollen Peemple!
Originally posted June 4/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"
Yesterday I managed to avoid looking closely at my face in a mirror for the entire day. I knew it would just be too horrible to look at, and I wouldn't be able to do a thing about IT - the massive, red, swollen PIMPLE on my chin.
Yeah, it's gross. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it looks like I now have a third nipple, and it's on my face.
AJ said I should just pop it, but it's too sore. Not only that- I scar so easily. That tan-coloured scar on my right arm? That's from when I burned myself on a hot cookie sheet almost a year ago. The scratch by my elbow? That's even older, from when Charlie accidentally scratched me. So the thought of creating a crater in my face that needs to heal up is less than appealing.
Actually, upon closer examination, it looks like it's actually a tiny constellation of blemishes. Go big or go home, right? Yeah.
I'm going to have to face the outside world today. Simon and I have to take AJ to work, I have to go in to pick up my work schedule for the next few weeks, and the cats need food. There's no way I'm sticking a band-aid on my face, so the world will just have to suck it up. Children may cry, old folks may drop dead at the sight of my temporary deformity, but that's just how it's going to be.
I'll try not to let my feelings get too hurt. *sniffle*
I'm not a monster!!!
PS- I'd like to thank last night's dinner guests for not staring, pointing, or running out the door screaming. You guys are swell.
Yesterday I managed to avoid looking closely at my face in a mirror for the entire day. I knew it would just be too horrible to look at, and I wouldn't be able to do a thing about IT - the massive, red, swollen PIMPLE on my chin.
Yeah, it's gross. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it looks like I now have a third nipple, and it's on my face.
AJ said I should just pop it, but it's too sore. Not only that- I scar so easily. That tan-coloured scar on my right arm? That's from when I burned myself on a hot cookie sheet almost a year ago. The scratch by my elbow? That's even older, from when Charlie accidentally scratched me. So the thought of creating a crater in my face that needs to heal up is less than appealing.
Actually, upon closer examination, it looks like it's actually a tiny constellation of blemishes. Go big or go home, right? Yeah.
I'm going to have to face the outside world today. Simon and I have to take AJ to work, I have to go in to pick up my work schedule for the next few weeks, and the cats need food. There's no way I'm sticking a band-aid on my face, so the world will just have to suck it up. Children may cry, old folks may drop dead at the sight of my temporary deformity, but that's just how it's going to be.
I'll try not to let my feelings get too hurt. *sniffle*
I'm not a monster!!!
PS- I'd like to thank last night's dinner guests for not staring, pointing, or running out the door screaming. You guys are swell.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Sick, Tired, and Trapped Like Rats
Originally posted February 19/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"
WARNING: Explicit (and gross) content. Don't say I didn't warn you.
OK, it was kind of funny when Mother Nature decided to have a huge snowfall in Ontario before we got here, just so we'd feel at home. But did she have to go and make a blizzard in St. John's today to keep us here? I really don't think that was necessary...
Yes, our flight has, in fact, been cancelled. This could be considered a good thing or a bad thing. I was really excited about getting home to see AJ (and the cats, of course), who I miss SO much, and I've been waiting a long time for the appointment I have tomorrow with my brain doctor. That's the bad part. The good part is that Simon's sick... no, wait, him being sick is bad, very bad. The good thing is that we're not flying while he's sick. How miserable would THAT be? I just hope and pray that he's better by tomorrow night, when we're actually going to be flying.
Poor little Simon has been a very good boy this whole trip- in fact, he was the life of the party just a few nights ago- but he's been having really rough nights. I've actually resorted to taking him back to bed with me a few times, just so we could get some sleep. This morning he was moaning and groaning and rolling around the bed. I thought he was just restless until...
"BLEEEEEEEEEEEGHHHH!"
he threw up right down my arm. My BARE arm. And my back... and it went down the back of my pants, all over my butt... and in my hair... we both stink like sour milk in spite of the very thorough shower I had later this morning. My little man was quite upset, and I don't blame him; he's never been one of those projectile-vomiting kids (thank God!), and he had no idea what was going on. He just looked at me like, "Mommy, why is my milk going up instead of down?!!" and then he started WAILING. I'm so glad I had experienced parents around to help; Gramma stripped the bed of its pukey sheets, Grampa tossed it all in the wash, and Gramma helped me figure out what I could feed Simon. Yogurt seemed to go down well... but twenty minutes ago it came up really well, too. Nice chunks of strawberry and all, all over my mom. Oops. Well, she's been barfed on before, many times.
We would have been on the way to the airport 30 minutes ago if the skies were clear, but since we're stuck, Simon's had some gravol and gone down for a nap. OK, so maybe God wasn't punishing us with this blizzard thing, after all. Like I said, I miss AJ, but one more day here is probably better than having Simon heave rancid banana over the back of the seat onto a nice man's suit.
WARNING: Explicit (and gross) content. Don't say I didn't warn you.
OK, it was kind of funny when Mother Nature decided to have a huge snowfall in Ontario before we got here, just so we'd feel at home. But did she have to go and make a blizzard in St. John's today to keep us here? I really don't think that was necessary...
Yes, our flight has, in fact, been cancelled. This could be considered a good thing or a bad thing. I was really excited about getting home to see AJ (and the cats, of course), who I miss SO much, and I've been waiting a long time for the appointment I have tomorrow with my brain doctor. That's the bad part. The good part is that Simon's sick... no, wait, him being sick is bad, very bad. The good thing is that we're not flying while he's sick. How miserable would THAT be? I just hope and pray that he's better by tomorrow night, when we're actually going to be flying.
Poor little Simon has been a very good boy this whole trip- in fact, he was the life of the party just a few nights ago- but he's been having really rough nights. I've actually resorted to taking him back to bed with me a few times, just so we could get some sleep. This morning he was moaning and groaning and rolling around the bed. I thought he was just restless until...
"BLEEEEEEEEEEEGHHHH!"
he threw up right down my arm. My BARE arm. And my back... and it went down the back of my pants, all over my butt... and in my hair... we both stink like sour milk in spite of the very thorough shower I had later this morning. My little man was quite upset, and I don't blame him; he's never been one of those projectile-vomiting kids (thank God!), and he had no idea what was going on. He just looked at me like, "Mommy, why is my milk going up instead of down?!!" and then he started WAILING. I'm so glad I had experienced parents around to help; Gramma stripped the bed of its pukey sheets, Grampa tossed it all in the wash, and Gramma helped me figure out what I could feed Simon. Yogurt seemed to go down well... but twenty minutes ago it came up really well, too. Nice chunks of strawberry and all, all over my mom. Oops. Well, she's been barfed on before, many times.
We would have been on the way to the airport 30 minutes ago if the skies were clear, but since we're stuck, Simon's had some gravol and gone down for a nap. OK, so maybe God wasn't punishing us with this blizzard thing, after all. Like I said, I miss AJ, but one more day here is probably better than having Simon heave rancid banana over the back of the seat onto a nice man's suit.
Yet Another Pounding Nigerian
Originally posted December 18/2006 on "Allison Wonderland"
OK, in case you don't now what the hell that title means: The spell check on a writing program I use does not recognize the word "migraine," and it's a word that I use a lot. The best the program can come up with is to suggest that I have a "pounding Nigerian," which quite frankly sounds like a whole lot more fun than the headache I'm stuck with...
Yes, it's yet another happy, happy migraine day. It's getting ridiculous. Every other day I've at least got a headache that makes it feel like my brain is trying to bust out of my skull; on really special days like today (a few times a week) I get added dizziness and nausea. Some fun, huh?
Obviously I'm not calling in sick every time this happens. Not only would I lose my job, but being at home isn't that much more relaxing, anyway. I do just as well to take my Advil liqui-gels, suck back a pot of tea and stumble through the work day. Good thing a trained monkey could probably do my job. I'm pretty sure customers suspect that I'm drunk on days like today... The distinct disadvantage to being at work with a headache is the incessant BUZZING. You can't get away from it at the store. The lights buzz- a high-pitched whine, like a mosquito singing in your ear in the middle of the night. Then there's this other, lower buzz, which I think has something to do with the ventilation system. Customers complain, but nothing has been done yet. Staff complain, too, with the same result. It's annoying on days when I don't have a headache; on days with one, it's almost unbearable. But at least I'm making money... sort of.
I found out last night that migraines are actually a withdrawal symptom for many people coming off Effexor, which I take a fairly high dose of every day. Could that have something to do with my increasingly severe (and frequent) headaches? I'm not in withdrawal, but I just wonder... I think it's time to see the shrink again to ask about switching meds. It's a terrifying prospect, especially considering what I've gone through on other antidepressants, but between the headaches and the other unpleasant side effects, it might be time to give it a shot. Maybe there's a medication out there that will help with the screwed-up chemicals in my brain while allowing me to NOT have a pounding Nigerian- I mean, migraine- every time the air pressure goes up. I won't know unless we try, right?
OK, in case you don't now what the hell that title means: The spell check on a writing program I use does not recognize the word "migraine," and it's a word that I use a lot. The best the program can come up with is to suggest that I have a "pounding Nigerian," which quite frankly sounds like a whole lot more fun than the headache I'm stuck with...
Yes, it's yet another happy, happy migraine day. It's getting ridiculous. Every other day I've at least got a headache that makes it feel like my brain is trying to bust out of my skull; on really special days like today (a few times a week) I get added dizziness and nausea. Some fun, huh?
Obviously I'm not calling in sick every time this happens. Not only would I lose my job, but being at home isn't that much more relaxing, anyway. I do just as well to take my Advil liqui-gels, suck back a pot of tea and stumble through the work day. Good thing a trained monkey could probably do my job. I'm pretty sure customers suspect that I'm drunk on days like today... The distinct disadvantage to being at work with a headache is the incessant BUZZING. You can't get away from it at the store. The lights buzz- a high-pitched whine, like a mosquito singing in your ear in the middle of the night. Then there's this other, lower buzz, which I think has something to do with the ventilation system. Customers complain, but nothing has been done yet. Staff complain, too, with the same result. It's annoying on days when I don't have a headache; on days with one, it's almost unbearable. But at least I'm making money... sort of.
I found out last night that migraines are actually a withdrawal symptom for many people coming off Effexor, which I take a fairly high dose of every day. Could that have something to do with my increasingly severe (and frequent) headaches? I'm not in withdrawal, but I just wonder... I think it's time to see the shrink again to ask about switching meds. It's a terrifying prospect, especially considering what I've gone through on other antidepressants, but between the headaches and the other unpleasant side effects, it might be time to give it a shot. Maybe there's a medication out there that will help with the screwed-up chemicals in my brain while allowing me to NOT have a pounding Nigerian- I mean, migraine- every time the air pressure goes up. I won't know unless we try, right?
Misdiagnosis
Originally posted April 30/2006 on "Mommyhood Confidential"
There's a lot of information out there*. There's information available in books and magazines, from friends, family and raving lunatics on street-corners (who may or may not fall into one of the former categories) and of course, the internet. Want to know the circumference of the world's largest donut? Check the internet. Curious about the origin of the phrase "Stunned as me arse"? It's probably there somewhere. Desperate to know whether that oozing lump on your left butt-cheek is something you should have checked out? Well, you could go to the internet for that one, but I'm going to hazard a guess and say yes, go see your GP.
The doctor's office has a lot of information, too. We were there a few days ago inquiring about a) what to do if our poor baby caught my cold (which seems inevitable, really), and b) whether it is, in fact, appropriate to drug the poor lad for our upcoming flight to Ontario. Apparently it is, but that's not the issue here. The waiting room was FULL of information, most of it useless. One poster inquired, "Are you suffering from shingles? Are you over 50 years old?" I was reasonably sure I could answer "no" to both questions, so I didn't continue to read up on that particular medical study. The information's there if I want it, though.
I did, however, pick up a brochure which included a handy checklist that would tell me if I should speak to my doctor about the possibility that I might be suffering from Alzheimer's. Please bear in mind that I didn't really think I might have Alzheimer's; I'm just one of those people who has to be reading something any time I'm not otherwise completely occupied. I have stooped to reading shampoo bottles while I'm peeing just to have something to read. Once again, however, that's not the issue. Alzheimer's. I was talking about Alzheimer's, and the checklist...
1. Does the individual often repeat himself/herself or ask the same questions over and over?
(yes, but to be fair, it's only because I don't get a response the first time. Particularly if someone is watching the baseball game.)
2. Is the individual more forgetful, that is, having trouble with short-term memory?
(OK, we've been over this- it's mommy brain. Or, if you prefer, CRAFT disease: Can't Remember A Frigging Thing. I- wait, what was the question, again?)
3. Does the individual need reminders to do things like chores, shopping or taking medication?
(unusually only the unpleasant chores. Oh, wait, that's all of them. And I do keep forgetting to give the cat his antibiotics...)
....
6. Has the individual started having trouble doing calculations, managing finances or balancing the chequebook?
[ Started?! Since when did I not have trouble doing calculations? Have you seen my credit card statements this year? And doing what to the chequebook, now?]
....
11. Does the individual have difficulty finding words, finishing sentences or naming people or things?**
(That's it, I'm doomed. Last week I forgot what a "plate" was called, and I called the baby by the dog's name. This is the end.)
So, by the end of the checklist, I had (out of 11 questions) five yeses, four no's and one don't know. Hang on, that's only 10... make that 6 yeses (with an asterisk beside that one about trouble with calculations). Apparently five or more yeses means I should speak to my doctor about this, as an early diagnosis is vital to treatment success.
You know, maybe there is such a thing as too much information. I'm sure that this checklist could be helpful, even life-saving in the right circumstances. I'm also pretty sure that I don't have Alzheimer's at this time. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and say that I'm just tired, hormonal and naturally bad at math. You could go nuts with all this information, seeing pneumonia in the baby's every sniffle and Avian flu in every sneeze. New mommies are particularly susceptible to this, or so I've heard. It's good to be informed, but I think I'm going to leave diagnosis to the experts and try to get on with what's left of my life.
Now where did I put the baby?...
* Yeah, I know: Captain Obvious called, and he wants his shtick back. Thanks.
** If you're looking for the brochure, it's titled "Stay One Step Ahead" and is "Sponsored by one of Canada's leading research based pharmaceutical companies"
There's a lot of information out there*. There's information available in books and magazines, from friends, family and raving lunatics on street-corners (who may or may not fall into one of the former categories) and of course, the internet. Want to know the circumference of the world's largest donut? Check the internet. Curious about the origin of the phrase "Stunned as me arse"? It's probably there somewhere. Desperate to know whether that oozing lump on your left butt-cheek is something you should have checked out? Well, you could go to the internet for that one, but I'm going to hazard a guess and say yes, go see your GP.
The doctor's office has a lot of information, too. We were there a few days ago inquiring about a) what to do if our poor baby caught my cold (which seems inevitable, really), and b) whether it is, in fact, appropriate to drug the poor lad for our upcoming flight to Ontario. Apparently it is, but that's not the issue here. The waiting room was FULL of information, most of it useless. One poster inquired, "Are you suffering from shingles? Are you over 50 years old?" I was reasonably sure I could answer "no" to both questions, so I didn't continue to read up on that particular medical study. The information's there if I want it, though.
I did, however, pick up a brochure which included a handy checklist that would tell me if I should speak to my doctor about the possibility that I might be suffering from Alzheimer's. Please bear in mind that I didn't really think I might have Alzheimer's; I'm just one of those people who has to be reading something any time I'm not otherwise completely occupied. I have stooped to reading shampoo bottles while I'm peeing just to have something to read. Once again, however, that's not the issue. Alzheimer's. I was talking about Alzheimer's, and the checklist...
1. Does the individual often repeat himself/herself or ask the same questions over and over?
(yes, but to be fair, it's only because I don't get a response the first time. Particularly if someone is watching the baseball game.)
2. Is the individual more forgetful, that is, having trouble with short-term memory?
(OK, we've been over this- it's mommy brain. Or, if you prefer, CRAFT disease: Can't Remember A Frigging Thing. I- wait, what was the question, again?)
3. Does the individual need reminders to do things like chores, shopping or taking medication?
(unusually only the unpleasant chores. Oh, wait, that's all of them. And I do keep forgetting to give the cat his antibiotics...)
....
6. Has the individual started having trouble doing calculations, managing finances or balancing the chequebook?
[ Started?! Since when did I not have trouble doing calculations? Have you seen my credit card statements this year? And doing what to the chequebook, now?]
....
11. Does the individual have difficulty finding words, finishing sentences or naming people or things?**
(That's it, I'm doomed. Last week I forgot what a "plate" was called, and I called the baby by the dog's name. This is the end.)
So, by the end of the checklist, I had (out of 11 questions) five yeses, four no's and one don't know. Hang on, that's only 10... make that 6 yeses (with an asterisk beside that one about trouble with calculations). Apparently five or more yeses means I should speak to my doctor about this, as an early diagnosis is vital to treatment success.
You know, maybe there is such a thing as too much information. I'm sure that this checklist could be helpful, even life-saving in the right circumstances. I'm also pretty sure that I don't have Alzheimer's at this time. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and say that I'm just tired, hormonal and naturally bad at math. You could go nuts with all this information, seeing pneumonia in the baby's every sniffle and Avian flu in every sneeze. New mommies are particularly susceptible to this, or so I've heard. It's good to be informed, but I think I'm going to leave diagnosis to the experts and try to get on with what's left of my life.
Now where did I put the baby?...
* Yeah, I know: Captain Obvious called, and he wants his shtick back. Thanks.
** If you're looking for the brochure, it's titled "Stay One Step Ahead" and is "Sponsored by one of Canada's leading research based pharmaceutical companies"
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