I love my doctor. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned that before, but just in case you missed it…
So, I went back for a two month medication check. That’s what he called it, but I’m fairly certain it was so he’d have visual proof that I hadn’t, in fact, completely lost my shit. He actually came all the way into the room and stayed there, although to be fair, he pulled an Ali and floated like a butterfly just in case. Poor guy. I must give off waves of instability like a male lion gives off pheromones. Maybe if I started marking my territory…
Anyway, where was I?
Yes, the Cymbalta is working. No one’s died, me included. I did mention getting separated from The Codefendants on the Metro in DC. It must be working, doc, because all I could think when the train pulled away with my children in tow, leaving me on the platform, was “oops”. He chuckled, assured me it really wasn’t funny (he’s right…it was kind of a riot) and then looked on the bright side. At least they’ll have something to talk about in therapy. Doc is my kinda guy.
We quickly progressed through my shenanigans since the last visit: 41 miles walked in July; 49 in August; and 72 in September.
Am I tired? I have fibromyalgia and if that’s not enough, refer to the previous paragraph.
Am I sleeping? Define “sleeping”. Like…cat napping, like the dead, through the night, without waking? Let’s see: yes, no, no, no. Sounds like my side of a conversation right before I hang up on a telemarketer. I am having some really vivid dreams, mostly about Himself, who’s dream self is very good at ticking me off. I wake up and have to remind myself he has no clue how good he is at pushing my buttons when he’s unconscious.
I can see the wheels turning in Doc’s mind. Let’s try another medication and see if we can’t get you on a sleep schedule. I insist I have a schedule…it’s called a lack of one. I might get 3 solid hours of sleep a night. Maybe…if the planets align, the dachshund actually comes when called, and the Red Wings win the Cup again before I die. Excuse me while I have a giggle here. What the hell, let’s add another pill!
I’ve always been someone who’s taken several meds at once, thanks to several gastrointestinal issues and general nuttiness. No biggie. And there’s always some humor to be had. If not, you may as well cash it in.
Case in point: lists of side effects.
Enlarged mammaries: you’ll develop boobs big enough to feed Africa, China and at least two Balkan states.
Delayed gastrointestinal movements: the only stool you’ll see from now until the day you die is what’s on display at IKEA.
Accelerated gastrointestinal movements: the family expression here is “like shit through a goose”. Good luck getting to the toilet in time, loser.
Dry mucus membranes: yeah, if the presence of camels and Bedouin tents isn’t a clue, it’s freaking dry in your mouth. Never mind the sand exiting your nostrils.
And my personal favorite…
Increased perspiration: you will sweat like a two-bit whore on a pay day weekend.
Good times ahead.
At least no one’s died.