So as you know, I had tummy troubles all last week and couldn’t do much of anything. Then on Monday I was feeling much better and I thought I’d celebrate with a tall frosty glass of milk. That didn’t end well.
After that I was afraid to put anything at all in my mouth which was kind of concerning because by then I’d been off my crazymeds for nearly a week. The very thought of trying to start taking them again made me panic.
I called my doctor’s office to ask for advice on how to resume regular eating, drinking, and medication-taking activities and the nurse I spoke to extremely concerned when she found out I was off my meds. She insisted I come in the next day for an appointment.
So I went, and they gave me some general advice on how to deal with it. They thought my extreme anxiety about the prospect of swallowing anything was probably related to the fact that I was off my meds. They said if by the next day I was unable to take them, I would have to come back and they would have to figure out something out to get them into me.
So the next day (which was yesterday) I was able to get my medication down in the morning, but in the process I spat pop all over my new silk shirt. I was not thrilled. Mentally muttergrumbling to myself about needing to dry-clean the shirt, I called the doctor’s office to tell them I’d taken my meds.
The secretary insisted I needed to be seen that day anyway, and I insisted I did not need to be seen because I had taken my meds, and round and round we went, and she finally transferred me to the nurse’s desk. I tried to explain to the nurse that the secretary had the wrong end of the stick, that since I had taken my meds I didn’t need to be seen. And she was all like, “Well, we’re all very worried about you and you seem agitated.”
“I’m agitated because my silk shirt has stains on it and I’ll have to pay for it to be cleaned,” I tried to explain, “and because there’s no reason I should be talking to you.”
“Well, you need to take your medication.”
“I just did!”
“You know it will take some time for it to start working again. You need to take your medication EVERY DAY for it to work. You can have a happy normal life if you just take your medicine blah blah blah…”
“This is unbelievable,” I muttered to myself. She heard me and thought I meant I didn’t think the meds worked. She started again on how great my life will be if I just take my medicine, and I had to explain that it was unbelievable that she was telling me this NOW. I’ve been taking psych meds since 2008 and I got diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2011. I know all this stuff already.
Finally I got off the phone and suddenly felt really woozy. I had to lie down and sleep for like five hours. One of my medicines I take has a strong sedative effect if you’re not used to it, and I had missed eight days’ worth of doses.
So right now I’m waking up around seven or eight, doing whatever for a few hours, taking my medication at ten a.m., passing the heck out, not waking up for four to six hours, and then doing whatever for a few more hours until it’s time to take my nighttime dose at ten p.m., after which time I pass the heck out again.
There’s no way out but through, unfortunately. Once I get used to it again I’ll function normally.
Stupid stomach flu.