Last night I missed a dose and now it's like an acid trip, almost.
Last time I looked at the clock last night it was 4:00 AM
It was the most important dose. The Sinequan would knock me out eventually
It wasn't on board. I take two 800 mg Neurontin every night along with the Sinequan
Then the half a Lisinopril and the double dose of Loveistatin to keep my veins open and unclogged
And finally the rhythm keeper! Flecainide! It keeps my heart beating in my dreams. I took none of it.
I can barely type. I just came in from trimming the Virginia Creeper along the sliding gate and fence at the very back. It's where I hide. It's how I get in and out in my mommy mobile.
Invisible on the streets of Salt Lake
It's where I store my bricks and future gate.
It's where one Aspen's dying. I'm watering now.
I took a 25 mg Sinequan and an extra Neurontin this morning or rather early afternoon. I'm coping. I'm staying in and out of sight.
The charming, somewhat glamorous boy and girl returned late today. They've been traveling. There will be parties ahead.
Dartmouth stayed home and worked like a Cholo with borrowed power tools, cords hanging out
the dining room window. Screen removed. Always barefoot. Suntanned barefoot beautiful boy.
I avoid the front of the house and so the weeds grow,
The lawn burns, the flowers need deadheading.
I need to get the blower out. But first I'll get the dust down.
Ms M brought Roscoe over for a three day visit with overnights. We three, Roscoe, Marly and me (that's the problem with her name) watched movies and ate popcorn until the wee small hours and not once did I think about my pills. I take a handful every night. They're all lined up in morning and nighttime doses. I know better than anyone how important they are. It was an accident. I've heard it said, "There are no accidents." I don't buy that. No one would deliberately destroy the balance that keeps her on her feet, her brain working, her life from devolving into chaos when she's worked so hard to create a bit more order this year.
It's 7:00 PM and I'm taking my pills. I'll go to bed early, hopefully get up early and get things done.
I'm not oblivious to the fact that I just wrote a piece about what it's like to be bipolar and not medicated correctly. I know the dangers.
3 comments:
Too bad about the meds. Glad it didn't lead to a psychotic episode.
If I were a Freudian, I would suggest that you were missing Big Cyrus last night and made yourself miserable.
Or that you were so cozy with your buddy Roscoe there that you forgot for a moment that you needed meds.
Freudians have a field day with this kind of shit.
Glad you're better today.
Freudians might be the ones who say things like, "There are no accidents." I do miss Cyrus. I still reflexively start to feed him, to squeeze between his absent bed and my closet. I say his name aloud now and then almost every day.
This little bit of time I spend with Roscoe is bitter sweet. We're doing a lot of smiling at each other. I'll miss him more than I can say. I'll probably get another dog to prove to myself I can move on.
Get a shaggy one for me - I've been wanting another dog ever since I divorced my allergic husband, but I didn't want to get one in an apartment in NYC. Especially since I'd get two so they could keep each other company.
I haven't had a dog since I left my shit zu with my mother in 1987 to come up here and marry Buzz Kill. People said that showed I really, truly loved Buzz Kill because everybody knew how much I loved Mashu.
He finally had a heart attack and fell into my mother's jacuzzi. She was afraid he'd stumbled into it since he was very old and half blind, so the vet performed an autopsy.
I am sorry to hear about your troubles with the meds.
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