neurotica, paranoia, and a can of campdri
I found a few of these images a bit personal.
(So, let's try something different today: saying what's actually going on.)
[/med update on]
I'm seeing a new pdoc. After several introductory appointments, he's done a revolutionary thing and made some reductions, not just changes, in my medication. Whee. And I can tell that there are changes.
Just one AD, not two. (Why two? he asked me. I don't know, I think it was some kind of transition plan that didn't come to fruition. I got dropped four months ago from my previous pdoc; they bumped my appointment and neither of us bothered to reschedule.) Onto a new drug with the scary-sounding classification of 'Anti-psychotic.' And finally, tapering off the damn Topamax. I swear, it's what's been making me stupid for so long.
It'll be interesting to see how all this changes things.
[/med update off]
I'm scrambling today, actually. We've got a re-infestation of a nasty social parasite, via our youngest daughter. I hadn't even heard of this one when it first came up about a year ago, and since then I think we've become the most well educated family I know. My husband was informed of my girl's predicament last night--I was passed out in a medicated twilight zone--and they spent a couple hours researching online and then made a midnight run to the drug store. In the last 20 hours, she has been completely moved out of her room, and we've begun the process of washing every item she owns in hot water and bleach. If it can't be washed, it'll be sitting in her room for the amount of time it takes for the eggs to die (nope, no available fumigation method) plus an extra month to be safe. We're not doing this one again. So she'll live in the guest room (with a superior hygiene regimen) until Halloween, and we'll get a nice long time to paint her old bedroom.
(Nope, we're not messing around. There was a guy on the message board who's been fighting it for five years. We'll make the second go-round the last, thanks.)
And that's what pre-empted my day: I'd actually planned to pack, since I'm leaving for a 'surprise' trip to California day after tomorrow. It's hot as heck, and I'm going to the Sacramento Valley, but My Presence Is Required, and I do get to see my uber-cool grandma and assorted kinfolk. But Wednesday is nearly over, and I have put nothing in my suitcase!
Even worse: I arrive home next Thursday night, and leave Friday morning for the Harley Rendezvous in upstate New York. Ok, worse is not the right word to describe my virgin trip to this apparent drunken titty paradise, but I come in on a midnight flight, and we're supposed to be there "any time on Friday," so I'm trying to pre-pack now for next weekend, when I thought I had an extra week until a few days ago. So lots of tent rolling, sleeping-bag-airing, and trying to figure out just what it is I'll want to eat on top of a bottomless mug of beer.
[/conspiratorial whisper on]
Now, I'll tell you, there's a little more up than that, but it's all spoken in half-words and arranged toothpicks. It feels like it's good, but is it only because it's movement, and any movement feels like progress? I'm worried, because movement too close to the edge can send you toppling over.
[/conspiratorial whisper off]
