Tonight brought me a bout of Fake Insomnia. It started with the itching. You know the "thousands of hairy-legged spiders" itch thing... well, it was all over this time, not just my legs. It was annoying, at first. Then it intensified and the itching went from annoying to infuriating. I finally got out of bed.
I've been planning on re-doing my blog's look for a few weeks now, but I procrastinated myself out of it for all that time. And now here we are. I'm listening to a mix of house music (that I discovered because of DJ Phoole) and a Flo Rida CD. (fun fact, when I ordered that CD, I texted my youngest kid and said: "I just ordered a Flo Rida CD, is that weird?" She replied with: "A little..." and later told me that one of her friends thinks I'm cool because of this CD. Her mom would never listen to music like that! I'm the cool mom again! Yay, me!)... and yet, I almost procrastinated myself out of it again tonight. I hassled a young friend of mine over on Tumblr (something about cooties and how boys are gross), I stalked a few of my friends on Facebook, ate a granola bar... then I just had to get to it. This needed to be done and no amount of cootie-teasing and Facebook-stalking was going to change that...
When I started all my blogs- back in the day- I set a lot of it up so my mom could read them. She preferred a darker background and a slightly bright font. Well... I decided to clean up the overall look and make it brighter all around. Give it a bit of an update. Make it sleeker.
So, here it is- my new blog look. The same layout is still here, all the brackets/links/gadgets and such are just where they always were. The banner image is just something I threw together in Photoshop and it took about a dozen tries to get it centered the way I wanted it.
I hope you like it... I plan on doing the same to the Conversations with the Disabled Guy blog as well.
Showing posts with label insomnia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insomnia. Show all posts
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Snafu equals FUBAR
I grew up in the military. I knew what those things were before normal people used them on a regular basis. What's my snafu that has things totally FUBAR? ("FUBAR", for those who don't know, is "Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition")... my fibro medicine.
Remember that new dose of Gabapentin I was going on about a few weeks ago? I finally got the pills in the mail- 100 mgs to take with my 300 mgs. In the same way, I start with adding it to one dose- the evening one- so it would be one dose at 400 mgs, then two 300 mg doses. Then after a week, add it to another, so it would be 400 mgs, then 300, then 400. And after all that was dandy, take it with the midday dose and be 400 mgs across the board. Except, two days after I got the 100 mg capsules in the mail, I noticed I was running low on the 300 mgs. I called the VA pharmacy to ask if they were coming, or if they had even been ordered. They were not and they had not. The pharmacist was cool about it and transferred me to the proper extension and I told my story to the person just as we're supposed to do in this situation. That person (a nurse) did her job and put the request in and then we waited...
During this waiting, I started to cut back my doses, because we're not supposed to up and stop taking Gabapentin suddenly. I cut it back to the 300 mgs for three doses, then I cut the midday dose. After a week of that, I cut the morning dose down to 200 mgs so I was taking that in the AM and 300 mgs in the PM. Now I'm down to 100 mgs in the AM and 200 in the PM.
After ten days (standard prescription waiting time and I was on two 300 mg doses still), I called the VA to see what was up with the whole thing. Apparently, nothing. Some sort of fucking glitch in their computer system or something completely fucked me over. And it fucked me over hard and without buying me dinner first. And during this time, my sleep has been completely screwed up. I can't sleep because every time I move, it hurts and I wake up. Or my skin itches so bad I can't lie still enough to fall asleep. So much for exercising to lose any fucking weight.
That phone call was on Monday. They said they'd call me back. They did. On Wednesday. There was some initial miscommunication but now it's squared away and the 300 mgs should be on it's way to me within a few days (if it goes well, I'll have it by the end of next week, but I'll believe it when I see it). So, that little snafu has FUBAR'd my fucking fibro treatment. And my sleep is FUBAR.
Gravity has been pulling me down extra hard. The air makes my skin hurt. My entire body is a sensitive bruise. To compare, men, think about getting kicked in the balls. Yeah, that hurts, right? Now, think about the next few days... how when you're sitting in a chair and you move your leg and your Levi's brush against your jiggly bits. That shudder of pain you feel? That's what my entire body feels like right now. I still prefer my analogy of being thrown from a horse. In the last week, though, I've come to realize that it only works for people who have been thrown from a horse and of those people, it only works if they don't get thrown from a horse on a regular basis.
"Wait," I hear some of you saying, "You know people who get thrown from horses on a regular basis? What's that, rodeo cowobys?"
Nope. Much cooler. And those of you who know me- say it with me- jousting knights. Yeah, I know people who joust for a living. And for them, getting "thrown" from a horse is all part of the job. One of my favorite knights- Sir Mauldron (not his real name)- was thrown from a horse the other day. Face-planted right in the jousting field. Blood and all. He bled real blood in the theatrical joust. But to him and people like him, getting thrown from a horse doesn't hurt them all that much.
They're much tougher than I am. The last time I was thrown from a horse, I was sore for days afterward. Of course, when I was thrown, I got right back on the horse and continued riding- which is what you're supposed to do. And here I sit, in itchy, pain-filled agony, telling you this nonsensical story about how much I fucking hurt and how much I love jousters. Because even though I'm up in the middle of the night and the Vicodin hasn't put any kind of dent in the pain, I'm still getting on that horse again. I'll get up tomorrow and do whatever it is I do. Because I have to.
The Janesville Renaissance Faire is this weekend and I will not miss out on that. It's the start of the faire season and I'm going to see faire friends I haven't seen since October. And I won't let this "invisible" disease keep me from enjoying myself.
Oh, by the way, part of what I do every day is this- Pahz Photography
And then there's this- The World According to Mauldron
Oh, and I do some photo work for Shake Hands With Danger Radio
So a majority of what I do every day can be done from this computer chair. I'd rather be on horseback... at least I'd have a reason for feeling this fucking sore and exhausted all the time.
Remember that new dose of Gabapentin I was going on about a few weeks ago? I finally got the pills in the mail- 100 mgs to take with my 300 mgs. In the same way, I start with adding it to one dose- the evening one- so it would be one dose at 400 mgs, then two 300 mg doses. Then after a week, add it to another, so it would be 400 mgs, then 300, then 400. And after all that was dandy, take it with the midday dose and be 400 mgs across the board. Except, two days after I got the 100 mg capsules in the mail, I noticed I was running low on the 300 mgs. I called the VA pharmacy to ask if they were coming, or if they had even been ordered. They were not and they had not. The pharmacist was cool about it and transferred me to the proper extension and I told my story to the person just as we're supposed to do in this situation. That person (a nurse) did her job and put the request in and then we waited...
During this waiting, I started to cut back my doses, because we're not supposed to up and stop taking Gabapentin suddenly. I cut it back to the 300 mgs for three doses, then I cut the midday dose. After a week of that, I cut the morning dose down to 200 mgs so I was taking that in the AM and 300 mgs in the PM. Now I'm down to 100 mgs in the AM and 200 in the PM.
After ten days (standard prescription waiting time and I was on two 300 mg doses still), I called the VA to see what was up with the whole thing. Apparently, nothing. Some sort of fucking glitch in their computer system or something completely fucked me over. And it fucked me over hard and without buying me dinner first. And during this time, my sleep has been completely screwed up. I can't sleep because every time I move, it hurts and I wake up. Or my skin itches so bad I can't lie still enough to fall asleep. So much for exercising to lose any fucking weight.
That phone call was on Monday. They said they'd call me back. They did. On Wednesday. There was some initial miscommunication but now it's squared away and the 300 mgs should be on it's way to me within a few days (if it goes well, I'll have it by the end of next week, but I'll believe it when I see it). So, that little snafu has FUBAR'd my fucking fibro treatment. And my sleep is FUBAR.
Gravity has been pulling me down extra hard. The air makes my skin hurt. My entire body is a sensitive bruise. To compare, men, think about getting kicked in the balls. Yeah, that hurts, right? Now, think about the next few days... how when you're sitting in a chair and you move your leg and your Levi's brush against your jiggly bits. That shudder of pain you feel? That's what my entire body feels like right now. I still prefer my analogy of being thrown from a horse. In the last week, though, I've come to realize that it only works for people who have been thrown from a horse and of those people, it only works if they don't get thrown from a horse on a regular basis.
"Wait," I hear some of you saying, "You know people who get thrown from horses on a regular basis? What's that, rodeo cowobys?"
Nope. Much cooler. And those of you who know me- say it with me- jousting knights. Yeah, I know people who joust for a living. And for them, getting "thrown" from a horse is all part of the job. One of my favorite knights- Sir Mauldron (not his real name)- was thrown from a horse the other day. Face-planted right in the jousting field. Blood and all. He bled real blood in the theatrical joust. But to him and people like him, getting thrown from a horse doesn't hurt them all that much.
They're much tougher than I am. The last time I was thrown from a horse, I was sore for days afterward. Of course, when I was thrown, I got right back on the horse and continued riding- which is what you're supposed to do. And here I sit, in itchy, pain-filled agony, telling you this nonsensical story about how much I fucking hurt and how much I love jousters. Because even though I'm up in the middle of the night and the Vicodin hasn't put any kind of dent in the pain, I'm still getting on that horse again. I'll get up tomorrow and do whatever it is I do. Because I have to.
The Janesville Renaissance Faire is this weekend and I will not miss out on that. It's the start of the faire season and I'm going to see faire friends I haven't seen since October. And I won't let this "invisible" disease keep me from enjoying myself.
Oh, by the way, part of what I do every day is this- Pahz Photography
And then there's this- The World According to Mauldron
Oh, and I do some photo work for Shake Hands With Danger Radio
So a majority of what I do every day can be done from this computer chair. I'd rather be on horseback... at least I'd have a reason for feeling this fucking sore and exhausted all the time.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
"Gravity is a harsh mistress." ~Patrick Warburton as "The Tick"
Here it is, after 11 PM. And I'm awake. Yup. Except this time, it isn't the itching... This time, it's the pain. Most of the time when I complain of "pain med fail", it's because my skin is itching too much for me to sleep. But today, I just fucking ache. I woke up achy and I stayed achy. I even fell asleep this morning around 7 AM (I get up at 5 AM usually). I slept for almost two hours and then could barely move to get up. I dragged myself to the shower. I stopped though, at my bedroom door and just stood there for a moment. The disabled guy actually asked if I was okay. I just said, "No." and walked on to the bathroom.
I'm getting better at tolerating a hot shower. Sometimes, my skin hurts and even the shower hurts. But on these harsh-gravity days, I can tolerate a near-blistering hot shower. It seems to help. Heating pads don't hurt, mostly because I can't wrap my entire body in one. And my soft-and-fuzzy-blanket isn't always an option because sometimes I hurt and I'm warm. There's no winning sometimes.
I still haven't gotten my new dosage of Gabapentin in the mail yet. If I don't get it tomorrow (two weeks after my appointment), I'm going to call to find out when it was sent. I'm also waiting for a parcel from Shawn in Australia. That'll have some Cadbury in it and Australian Cadbury has healing powers. It does. You can't tell me it doesn't because odds are, you have never had it. AND odds are if you have, you weren't in need of healing. So you don't know for sure. So, trust me. It does.
As I'm sitting here, typing this, all my muscles ache. I feel like I need to stretch, but stretching hurts more. Oh, speaking of stretching, I have been doing some yoga stuff. Not a full yoga routine or anything, but some basic yoga-style stretching. It's a start.
I feel bad when I complain about all this. I've been doing a 365days self-portrait project for over a year now and these days when I feel like absolute hell, I fake my way through my portrait. Before, I'd do a photo of my feet or my hand or something equally lame. But, I figure if I can tack on a happy face, I can fake my way through my self-portrait. My profile photo here on the Blogspot is a bad day photo. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was one of those "up all night, bad next day" photos. But, hey, I faked my way through it.
And what makes me feel bad about it is that some very nice people tell me how lovely I look and then say how great I'm handling it. And I don't feel like I am. I feel like I'm a sniveling little crybaby about it. Doing a 365days self-portrait project is fairly self-centered thing to do anyway, but then to complain about how shitty one feels as the photo's caption, well, it seems like overkill. I don't mean to and I try not to, but it happens. I try to keep it contained, for the most part, to here... where the title tells you what's going on.
Here's hoping tomorrow's self-portrait submission will look as good as how bad I feel tonight.
I'm getting better at tolerating a hot shower. Sometimes, my skin hurts and even the shower hurts. But on these harsh-gravity days, I can tolerate a near-blistering hot shower. It seems to help. Heating pads don't hurt, mostly because I can't wrap my entire body in one. And my soft-and-fuzzy-blanket isn't always an option because sometimes I hurt and I'm warm. There's no winning sometimes.
I still haven't gotten my new dosage of Gabapentin in the mail yet. If I don't get it tomorrow (two weeks after my appointment), I'm going to call to find out when it was sent. I'm also waiting for a parcel from Shawn in Australia. That'll have some Cadbury in it and Australian Cadbury has healing powers. It does. You can't tell me it doesn't because odds are, you have never had it. AND odds are if you have, you weren't in need of healing. So you don't know for sure. So, trust me. It does.
As I'm sitting here, typing this, all my muscles ache. I feel like I need to stretch, but stretching hurts more. Oh, speaking of stretching, I have been doing some yoga stuff. Not a full yoga routine or anything, but some basic yoga-style stretching. It's a start.
I feel bad when I complain about all this. I've been doing a 365days self-portrait project for over a year now and these days when I feel like absolute hell, I fake my way through my portrait. Before, I'd do a photo of my feet or my hand or something equally lame. But, I figure if I can tack on a happy face, I can fake my way through my self-portrait. My profile photo here on the Blogspot is a bad day photo. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was one of those "up all night, bad next day" photos. But, hey, I faked my way through it.
And what makes me feel bad about it is that some very nice people tell me how lovely I look and then say how great I'm handling it. And I don't feel like I am. I feel like I'm a sniveling little crybaby about it. Doing a 365days self-portrait project is fairly self-centered thing to do anyway, but then to complain about how shitty one feels as the photo's caption, well, it seems like overkill. I don't mean to and I try not to, but it happens. I try to keep it contained, for the most part, to here... where the title tells you what's going on.
Here's hoping tomorrow's self-portrait submission will look as good as how bad I feel tonight.
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