Tuesday, Wednesday stay in bed

Or Thursday, watch the walls instead.

You got that right Mr. Smith.

Tuesday wasn’t too bad, it was awful in the AM but then the clouds lifted and aside from feeling a little physically bad (mild nausea, headache), I was feeling good.  Actually good, energetic but not crazy energy.  Like me.

Wednesday was not ok.  Today was right up there too.  Both days have had much more nausea, vomiting, and retching.  Sometimes I know it’s coming, sometimes it just comes up out of the blue.

Wednesday was so bad that I woke up this AM feeling the dread again.  I had been doing pretty well on dread, it seemed to be retreating a little bit.  But I woke up this morning at 4:30 (as usual) but instead of staying sleepy-dozy and managing at least to go back to a light nap, I was wide awake riding the anxiety train.  Racing thoughts, worry about how long this will go on, what I will do to eat, I barely ate yesterday (and today turned out to be even worse).   Worry about what I will do in July when husband goes out of town.  This is where a paucity of family relations really shows up in spades.  No mother or aunt to call to come help me out while I’m alone.

Today I started the Zoloft, half a 25 mg pill.  On top of Zofran (for the nausea, for what it’s worth).  My appetite, which started waning even before I stopped the Reglan (I think on account of the Reglan induced depression) is just flat out gone now, so each bite is a chore of unpleasant sensations, from sight to smell to taste to feel.  Feel and smell are the hardest.

I called my GI doctor today to tell her what’s going on.  She will recommend going back on the Reglan, and I know this because she already did recommend it.  I will not go on that again, I’ve seen down that dark hole, what I saw was bad enough and I’m convinced there’s worse lurking.  Dangerous psychosis, suicidal depressions, the like.  Maybe for someone who was all sunshine and puppydogs in their head to start with, it wouldn’t be so dangerous, but my head is not full of sunshine and puppydogs, at least not exclusively.  There are some mighty dark corners in there already. They don’t need a big chemical boost.

So after retching for 20 minutes a short time ago, so hard that I feel like things in my chest are giving away, I took another ativan.  I was trying not to take too many of them, but I’ve been getting keyed up, agitated, my legs won’t stop shaking, and so I figured I would take one and maybe it would help with some of the nausea and retching.

Jeez, I hope so.

And the last thing I did today, before calling it “a day” and coming over here to blog, was call my local “pot doc shop”.  See, medical marijuana is legal, in theory, in my state.  It’s just finally getting to the point where certified patients can buy it.  Not quite, but we’re assured that any old day now….

So, now would probably be a good time to at least start the process of getting certified.  My god, it’s like I have so many things to choice from, which symptom/syndrome would I want to base it on anyhow?  The gastroparesis with it’s prescription drug failure, appetite killing, nausea inducing, vomiting set of upper GI symptoms?  The chronic pain from my connective tissue disease?  The migraines?  The insomnia?  And now, the anxiety?  We have a lot to choose from.  If it helped even a little with the eating and sleeping, it’d be worth it.  And it’s pricey.  You have to see the special pot doc, and you have to establish that there is a genuine patient/doctor relationship there, which means getting your old doc to copy and send records ($), then having your record review at the pot doc ($), and your initial consult ($$$).  There may be a second consult too, I’m not sure.  Then if you want the pot doc to help you navigate the process of transferring their say so that you’re certified into a state card saying you’re certified, that’s more ($).

But so are these shakes that I buy in bulk from Amazon and throw up every morning, and so was the medicine i bought from canana last fall in the hopes that it would work as well as the REglan without all the side effects.  So are the doctor’s appointments where they do everything short of saying “we can’t help you, you’re just fucked”.  So is watching my life slip away even more. My god, it was small enough, then smaller, then unbelievably smaller still.  Now?  I find my life is barely larger than the skin stretched over my bones.

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