Medication vacations are wonderful. The vacation day feels like a waste. It's not a true vacation of relaxation. It's more like the old days of "blinking" and finding the sun is long gone and that blink turned out to be a few hours of sleep that hijacked my time.
But the vacation means the days after provide more clarity. I don't understand my medication - this drives me crazy! But it feels as if it stops working the longer I'm on it. I take two days off and it seems more potent.
Yet, eight months post diagnosis day and I'm still finding so many curves of learning.
I'm on call this weekend. Last time it was my turn, I continued my medication vacation days. Thankfully, it was a quiet weekend that did not require a lot of my attention.
But I assessed my state and thought if it were one of those dreaded weekends we all pray not to have of a cocktail of cascading Murphy's Law, I would not have been ready.
So on to another curve to learn - experiment #113: no medication vacation during my on-call weekend.
Preparing for the possibility of a resistant to Nuvigil body next week, I put in extra hours this week to keep up.
On the plus side, I had a TRUE day off today! I went GROCERY SHOPPING (all by myself). What a gift to go and not find myself three hours later wandering the aisles with trouble piecing together what exactly it is I'm doing!
And so came the thought: I might - just might - be able to pull off shopping for some clothes that fit me!
I have earned the name droopy drawers at work. My body has returned to its original form pre onset of super symptoms 5, almost 6, years ago. I have missed looking into the mirror and seeing ME. It is truly wonderful. Yet I have my pants - my professional work clothes - safety pinned together so they don't fall off.
Murphy's Law stopped by for a visit today. One computer glitch called for a quick pit stop to work. Ok. No problem. I can swing by for what will truly be a few minutes of a few buttons to push and hop over to the clothing shops.
Then The Law said: another computer glitch your way! A file lost and needing redoing. Argh. This delay in time presented the opportunity of another new change that would have likely been a bigger issue had I not been present - The Law worked in my favor, eh?
My 5-15min visit transformed to a three hour stent. It happens.
This is where the learning curve and my persistent denial meet, though. In my mind I'm still a superhero.
A "normal" person can still finish these errands - I sure can too, right?!? Ok, time won't permit that visit to the post office to collect the mail their holding because I've been too tired to empty my box, but I can surely go to that clothing store and find out what size belongs to my new body.
Sure I can!
But I sure am starting to feel foggy. It is day 6 post medication vacation of being on Nuvigil after all. I'm never as sharp as day 1. It sure is hard to concentrate on where that store is.
Oh.. it looks like I passed it ten miles ago..
Well here's another one. But it sure is hard to figure out where to park. I used to visit this mall. Why are these signs for parking not registering?
Oh look! A parking spot! Maybe I ought to rest for a minute. I don't want to find myself doing that dance of wandering aimlessly as if I am some transient experiencing the mind-altering high of escapism drugs. I don't want to find myself a few hours later experiencing the humiliation of realizing I just completed a round of automatic behavior - and now I have no idea where I am or how to find my car.
(Why don't I have a shopping buddy that can gracefully hold my hand and guide me without hurting my pride by letting on they are doing such a thing? I need this basic help apparently as I am in and out of these sleepy crashes?)
It took 90min to feel confident to either get out of the car to attempt finding pants I don't swim in - or resume driving home. There was a window. Kelly's rational brain says, "Go home. You've reached that point of dysfunction. These are the little things you just have to accept. You're not like everyone else anymore."
My rational brain is smart.
But like a stubborn child of idealism rebelling their wise parents, I don't want my rational friend to be right. So I'm sitting in this mall.
And another hour has past. I am sitting in quite a lovely private lounge this department store has. Waiting. Again.
It is taking quite a bit to type this experience of frustration right now. As I sit and wait because if anyone here even dares to ask if they can help me right now I just might burst into tears.. which may also follow with weak knees and gently falling into things.
And despite my Rational Kelly Brain knowing I probably will receive compassion even if in the form of non-understanding confusion, I am still battling that damn piece of pride and dignity I have left. I hate that look of compassionate confusion as much as the worst imagined mean response possible.
This is a simple task of trying on a damn pair of pants and saying, "Yes, this flatters my bum; I will take it." It is just a little thing.
Yet I am still attempting this little thing two and a half hours later.
I should have conceded and gone home once Murphy's Law came to visit earlier. I still have tomorrow.
I'm sick of tomorrow. Tomorrow turns into months later of missed accomplishments. I just want a win. I want to walk out of this with pants!
It is taking me so long to get it together to event go beyond an attempt that at this point I feel the medication entering the stage of wearing off as bedtime is approaching. This is the time no more driving should happen (I still am miles from home).
There is no more getting better today. The waves of alert mkments will become dimmet and more erratic.
I want to accomplosh something damn it. Even this nlnir liye detaik. I want to do want mlrmal pwoele get to do. I kust want a mlment