I am not entirely sober tonight. I had lost my sense of humor, a crucial element of my personality and my ability to cope with the absurdity and cruelties of life. I dragged myself through work and life. My temper, trained hard to be always kind, patient, cheerful, is not naturally easy going, slipped badly. I snarled and snapped and strained against the drudgery and irritation. I got angry with D, which I consider to be mean, and bad behaviour. I knew I was tired after 30 hours in 3 days while still dealing with pain, but this seemed more than that.
Finally, the light dawned, and I remembered that I had been on a drug for nerve pain, more normally used for bipolar disorders and seizures, the last dose taken Thursday morning. Getting through work was difficult enough to account for my distress and moodiness. The remaining muscle pain and limited mobility produced enough frustration to explain my irascibility. Still. Not getting angry at D. Just not on. The withdrawal factor just occurred to me about an hour ago. Ah. Ahem. Whoops.
So I am working on my mood through the time tested expedient of alcohol as a relaxant. Just until I can get back to my normal level of stress and paranoia. One or two per day, never more. Not much, not enough to be ill, but with D's encouragement, a rarity. Poor guy.
My sense of humor is still not up to an essay, it's probably hiding under the couch, but at least I know it is in the apartment somewhere. This is all taking much longer than would be preferred. Clawing my way to normalcy.
Damn Improbability Drive.
D. So sorry.
10 comments:
Are you sure you shouldn't be having a bit of time off work? Ten-hour shifts don't sound terribly conducive to healing.
Hi, What Jean said!
Get out 'The Good life' again ( not the one with Tom's bad back) and watch and raise a glass or two. Or can always suggest 'Black Books' on dvd. I can watch these again and again and my S of H usually crawls out form behind the washing machine and joins us in the sitting room!
I would if I could. I used more than I felt comfortable with the worst week, using up some of my planned September week off. I know I need a rest, but I'm still not getting one.
Don't tempt me, I so don't want to get up and go in today.
I am reminded of an apocryphal quote by W.C. Fields, which alludes to alcohol and may (with apologies beforehand) somewhat address the absent sense of humour:
"Drink water? Hell, no! Kids piss in it and fish fuck in it!"
Pain medicines can be kind of scary, can't they? A Catch 22 situation.
Loved Poor Mad Peter's comment! Amen.
Thouroughly enjoyed your blog! I will be back soon to check in on ya. (0)~throw it across water, see how many skips you get and maybe you'll giggle. Works for me sometimes. I have replaced people with the form of water. I may be taking some of the same meds. :)
Just until I can get back to my normal level of stress and paranoia.
Exactly. So for now, remember to be a little forgiving of yourself if you don't meet with perfect grace all challenges you are currently facing! Oh dear zhoen, take care.
Poor Zhoen, life is a bitch sometimes. I wish you a speedy recovery of health and humour.
Poor me. Aw. Yeah, well, as my Drill Sergeant would say, suck it up.
Enough wallowing in this puddle for me. I'm sick of myself and tired of my own twaddle. I won't die, I won't need surgery. I love and am loved, am warm, dry and fed, roof over my head, clothes on my back, safe in my bed - so far.
Not drinking any unfiltered water, though.
Aw.
I hate the improbability drive too. It's so...improbable.
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