Tag Archives: medication

I hate medication.

I am on a lot, a lot of medication. 10+

I feel like utter shit. There is no other way to describe having a headache for 7+ hours. I feel fucking hungover and I’m getting sick of it. I can only chalk it up to medication, because I’ve felt this way before on days when I properly take my medication and add a tylenol or two to the mix.

And I’m not even abusing, overusing- if anything, I’m not even taking all of my medication but that’s not the cause of the headaches.

I’m just incredibly bitter and grumpy right now and life just doesn’t help, I woke up and late and have been trying to sleep- I missed class and I probably would have fainted on the subway between the headache, dizziness and heat.

It’s 30 degrees out and I would love the beach if I didn’t feel like this and my vision wasn’t so wonky and just, ugh. I just feel overly lethargic and am also a little scared to shower in case I fall over.

I’m trying really hard to be coherent.

I don’t know if I can fake a smile and stop myself from snapping at anyone either, so I’d rather just hide in my hole and curl up in a ball and sulk.

I swear though, if one person tells me today that I wasted my day doing nothing, and that I seem fine I will fucking tear them a new one.

Is it the headache that is making me this irritable, or the medication, or both?

Walk in my fucking shoes. Ugh, if only I could say some of this out loud. (Never mind that I don’t really curse. In general. I must be really out of it.)


From The Healing Journal.

Pills, pills, pills…

FEBRUARY 2, 2010
by Kim Christensen

Breakfast!

There’s my breakfast pill dose.  Not too bad compared to some Lymies out there, only  nine pills!

The hardest thing about pills is the scheduling.  Seriously.  Take some pills with food.  Take some pills on an empty stomach.  Take some pills with certain kinds of foods. Sometimes I’m having a hard time finding time to eat in my pill schedule. No more snacking.  No more mindless eating.  Nope.  Meals are planned.  Pills are planned.  Everything is planned. I have a schedule to maintain.  Sometimes I’ll find myself so hungry, but know that I shouldn’t eat because I need to take my pills on an empty stomach.  Then I choose between pills and food.  I usually choose pills, just because I’m feeling militant.  But of course, I”m losing some weight now.  While that may get me back into my black miniskirt, I don’t necessarily like the whole losing weight like this plan.

Ugh.

In order to make this whole pill organization thing possible, I got some of these snazzy pill organizers.  You know you’re a Lymie when you use a weekly pill organizer for a single day.

I know own 4 of these little beauties, which means I only have to sit down and open all my pill bottles up for refills every four days.  Instead of using one pill organizer for a week, I use it for one day.  Each “day” slot I use for a single serving of pills – when I wake up, with breakfast, midmorning,etc.  It helps me remember what to take at what time of day, and know that all my drugs for that day (with teh exception of liquids and my refrigerated probiotics) are in one place.  Grab and go.  I made a chart of all my pills and what to take when to help me when I’m filling them. .  It has changed my pill life, seriously.  Not having to think about which pills i need when is such a blessing.

I’m finally having Herx reactions.  And the antibiotics are starting to take their toll.  I really felt great for a few weeks, but last week something shifted.  I feel like my adrenals are exhausted (literally, they hurt, and I’m getting dark circles).  The sides of my torso ache under my ribcage. I’m feeling a little flare up of the old bacterial vaginitis/yeast infection again (despite taking Diflucan and loads of probiotics).  My digestion is slowing down, and I feel cold. Ugh.  I’m getting stomach aches after meals again, something that I had let go of quite some time ago.  The chills are dreadful. I feel a weird shaky shiver up my spine and into my neck.  My skin feels like it is crawling.  And I have a searing headache that comes and goes.  My feed hurt. My eyes burn. I feel like I have the flu.

Herx, anyone?

It has only been four weeks!  How am I going to survive taking this for an undetermined amount of time?!

I’m struggling feeling pity for friends who are sick and complaining about body pain or aches. I feel this way EVERYDAY.  I still go to work.  Taking a nap won’t make it go away.  It won’t get better in a couple days.  It will be there tomorrow, and it was here  yesterday. It is here now.  It is here all the time, just in varying degrees of severity. Even a good day has the presence of a weight on my shoulders.  Combined with Seasonal Affective Disorder, my positive spirit is getting a little worn down.  Okay, not too severely, I’m still generally bubbly, despite feeling crappy. But I do feel a bit alone, isolated, and misunderstood by most of the people I see everyday.  And I do feel like holing up in my apartment, siting on my couch, and watching Law & Order SVU on Netflix.


Ah, yes, Kim, I do understand.

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It’s not enough to live so just dream.

Stuck in a race, in the wrong line,
when it all came down to me.
And I haven’t had faith in such a long time.

It’s not enough to live so just dream
It’s not enough to say so just scream.
They’ll never know if you don’t let it out
You’ve had enough, they’ll call your bluff
You can’t back down, lost in a crowd
You’ve won the right to scream and shout.
Kelis- Scream & Shout

I don’t know if anyone other than [with an illness] can possibly grapple just how hard it is for me to get through an assignment. It’s worrisome because I argued with my parents about going back to school, said I could do it. I have the support of my friends, I will pace myself, I will be okay. I’m unsure if I lied or not, unintentional or not. The first three weeks of this month were consumed with getting back into the swing of things, largely with moving into the house (which is incredibly tiresome for me, leaves my muscles aching for days) and creating an organizational system that will allow for easier days. The last thing I need in the morning, after I’ve dragged myself out of bed, is to spend two hours looking for my medication and a clean pair of underwear. Thankfully (while I’m still working out the kinks) the system I’ve got is fairly useful. For the most part everything, I mean, everything, has a place. And when you need to look for specific items, such as specific medications (that aren’t everyday) or heating pads( and other items that are fairly important for health) it’s best to have everything place. I don’t need to be in pain and searching for my source of relief for hours on end. After the organization system, there was the doctor appointments, so many appointments- and visits to the pharmacy. I’ve spent almost $500 this month on medication. Between travelling and cleaning, there’s still adjusting to being back and of course to medications.


SO HOW DO YOU TAKE MEDICATIONS?

Medication one cannot be taken within half an hour of medication two (the main medication) and cannot be taken with acidic drinks. If I take it too early, without eating, I will not have an appetite. But in order to take medication two, I have to be hungry enough to eat a decent full sized meal, or I throw up. And of course, I can’t take it with any sort of calcium, two hours before or after, and I can’t lie down after taking it for at least half an hour or it coats my throat with the medication causing a sore throat, and also creates some sort of weird indigestion and heartburn, leading to hours of hiccups.

Right, so no vitamins anywhere within reach of the first two, iron and of course calcium issues. I have to take acidophilus to balance out my intestinal flora but that must within three hours of medication two. Medication three must be taken morning and night and I have to make sure I properly rinse or I get thrush in my mouth (lovely) and a sore throat, and of course if I don’t take that properly I can’t breathe. Medication four is new and that is so far at night, it must always be upright and has a trick mechanism familiar to a rubix cube. These of course, are just some of my daily medications and the rules I must go through.

If I have something with too much calcium, or if I don’t eat enough, I might as well not take my main medication at all, as in case 1) it does not absorb properly and is ineffective or case 2) I spend the day nauseated and throwing up. It’s tiresome, thinking of every single decision I must make throughout the day.


HELLO, HELLO WORLD. I WANT TO BE READY FOR YOU.

Wake up late, because you couldn’t sleep last night? You only got three hours of sleep, even though you were in bed by eight. Schedule’s off. What are you wearing, will you be cold? Don’t have time to think about that.  Can you shower? Are you crazy- you don’t have time for that. Not to mention if you leave with your hair wet, you’ll get a fever and there’s your week gone. Do you have time for a proper breakfast? No. Can’t take medication #2. Okay, take medication #1, but then you won’t want to eat and take medication  #2 later in the day. But you’re not taking medication #1? How are you going to stay awake for class? And without #2, you are in danger of relapsing, didn’t you only take half a dose yesterday? Your joints are going to hurt tomorrow. Oh, they hurt now, huh? You’re limping. Your lungs also hurt, what’s the weather? It’s cold. If you walk, you’ll be late, plus you just left the house on a barely full stomach so you’re extremely tired and hungry and you forgot your scarf. So you can’t breathe. The cold air is burning your lungs. It would probably do that with or without a scarf, it’s too damn cold. Okay, so now you’re limping to the bus. Oh hey, the bus just past you by. Well then. Time to walk back home and call it a day.

YOU ARE NOT HONEST. YOU ARE NOT HEALTHY. But you could tell where I had been, by the way I held my gun. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I try to stay close to the light and as optimistic as possible when possible. But some days I am ambivalent, and bitter. And some days, I have a right to be. I’m struggling to live, while so many, [privileged] effortlessly kill themselves. It seems more and more people I know have teetered off the edge, crossed that fine line between moderation and excess. At some point you are no longer “harmlessly” having fun, at some point, it’s your liver, it’s your nervous system, it’s your immune system. Am I supposed to feel sorry for you, that you can’t breathe because you’ve become a chain-smoker? That you are extremely swamped while you juggle your all too many courses and work, while you put that all on yourself? I cannot even manage equal ground, the same footing in walking pace, and some, in the end, cause their own strife. Is that immature of me, to not feel sorry for those in such situations? Is it selfish, because since I cannot breathe myself and did not do this to myself, that I feel no sorrow for those that do?

It’s funny that some who know what I have gone through or am going through have the audacity to call me immature. I will not heed to such a term. I may not necessarily be mature because who really is, but one thing I certainly am not is immature. I may have moments of immaturity, but that is a flaw in the design of human nature. I am not perfect. I do not claim to be. I am not a victim of war. I have not lived through famine, strife, poverty. I have lived a privileged life in many senses, more than most, less than some. Still, I was all too aware of my roots and my surroundings. But I have been through a lot, and I have seen more than anyone could possibly know. I would not call myself sheltered. I have seen enough, experienced enough, to become a little jaded. Children struggling with leukemia; with bashed skulls and one eye; children with hollowed eyes and rope marks around their necks. Children with lost limbs and facial parts, caught in crossfires. These children are stronger than I ever have been. (I try, I try.) If you grow up in such a situation that enables over drug-use, slumdogs and gangwars, I do not condone, but I understand. If you cannot afford another semester and struggle to stay in this one, rushing at every end for the financial, I understand. But so many are over-privileged and sheltered, boredom and impatience their cause. Is it fair for me to say this? Had our lives been reversed, I, of a similar social monetary background, would I be in a similar state? Considering my roots are the same and (while I was constantly tired I was somewhat on par for many years) I still was given every opportunity to follow suit and opted not to. I am not saying that makes me better. It just doesn’t make me worse.

I am frankly getting tired of the constant complaints, so many of which seem so self-centered. I remember my high school years were full of oh no my life is over, my boyfriend and I are over, oh dear, I cheated on him. Oh no, I crashed my BMW because I was intoxicated while driving. Oh no, I broke a heel and daddy cut me off for a week.  The middle class isn’t altogether much better, there is always something. The popularity of the term “FML” has created all sorts of disgusting. That’s another entry for you, anyways.  It’s not even that they’re complaining about surface items to mask their inner emotions, it’s just that that’s all they have to complain about. Sometimes, anyways. I won’t overgeneralize. I’ve ranted about in circles and created excessively long tangents- no worries, who will read this anyways? Just me. Scream and shout. Let it out.

HEY, HEY DEENA. YOU’RE SO LUCKY. YOU’RE ONLY IN THREE CLASSES. Hey, hey, Jessica. I wish I could take five courses like you. I wish that three classes right now wasn’t so incredibly exhaustive for me, consuming what little is left of me, and that reading a remedial novel, these days, feels similar to reconstructing the works of Plato. I wish I could still read Chaucer and Nietzsche and even fucking Jane Austen without having to sit with a dictionary or stopping every five minutes, like when I was thirteen years old.   That I could read a paragraph in one sitting, without the tremor and shake of my hands, the misfiring of neurological synapses and the faint murmuring of an internal dialogue, echoing failure, failure.  I wish I could run to the bus without feeling the stretch of the air infiltrating my lungs, special ops style. I wish I could stay awake for an entire day, without wanting to nap even twice. I wish I could make a proper home-cooked dinner for myself, eat it in one sitting and have energy to do the dishes after. I wish I could walk places without feeling it in my bones, keeping me awake the next two nights. I wish I could write notes by hand without creating a raw in my knuckles.

I wish I didn’t have to struggle to make people understand.

I wish people would realize the little things they take for granted every day.

Sleeping, eating, speaking. Breathing. Living.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

This is me, complaining.

(Never. Out. Loud.)

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