I woke up this morning feeling a bit...off. Nothing wrong that I could put a finger on, but everything wasn't quite right in my body either. Everything smelled bad to me - like someone had stuck a dognose on my sniffer and turned the smells up by 1000% - and nothing tasted particularly good. (I'm not sure if the coffee at Half Price Books was as rancid as it tasted, but it truly made me gag. And I drank it anyways - how pathetic is that?). And my mouth just feels funny, too full of saliva, a little metallic.
I was entertaining thoughts that if I didn't know better I'd think I was pregnant or something (99.9% impossible, thank god, but does that thought ever really leave before menopause?) when I remembered. The kids at co-op school have the pukes. Not just one or two, but lots and lots of them. And I worked there 3 times in the past week and a half. And shared snack with the snotty little grabby-hands who double dip everything and run goldfish crackers through their fngers like pirates fondling with gold coins.
Fuck.
If I start puking I'm gonna be soooooo pissed.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
When the pigeon of life shits on your head
As the title of this post suggests, I'm feeling a bit picked upon these days. It's not that anything major is wrong right now, just lots of little niggling things that keep piling up and making me feel, well, shat upon.
The worst of the side-effects from the Neurontin seem to have abated, which makes it all the more annoying when I find myself standing in the living room completely lost as to what I was doing. It sounds stupid to bitch about not feeling like crap constantly, but really when I was obviously in a fog 24/7 it was much easier for me to expect the brain malfunction and definitely easier for me to forgive myself for it. Now that I feel relatively normal, the spurts of losing everything I touch catch me by surprise, and I'm much less gentle with myself when I completely space on deadlines. I'm attempting to remind myself that this really isn't who and how I usually am, but those mean voices in my head certainly LOVE the self-loathing fodder that this drug is feeding me.
A new and extremely unwelcome side-effect of the drug has, however made itself known via my exponentially-expanding ass and waist. I only fit in one pair of my jeans at this point, and have started wearing my "dress" pants fairly constantly since they are a bit bigger. While this may be amusing to some (har har DD has to dress up!) I personally am less than amused. I feel like a toad.
And alas, the epsom salts don't seem to have taken care of everything, as my big toe is now generally crusty with dried pus and the cuticle has separated dramatically from the nail on one side. Yes, the SotBT continues. The only bright spot (if you can consider it one) is that we have figured out what exactly is going on with it - my toenail broke when I broke my toe, and there is a large sharp jag of it ripping through my flesh at a glacial rate - and I no longer have any fear that they will need to amputate LOL. Hell, I may not even have to go to the doctor if I can just bear with the constant (low-grade) pain and oozing pus.
Can you hear the pigeon's wingflaps overhead?
The icing on the cake - or final warm plop on my head, take your pick of metaphor - is that over the weekend I developed a maddeningly itchy rash over the ever-expanding bulk of my body. The worst of it seems to be concentrated on places that are either inaccessible (my ankles, under my winter boots) or socially inappropriate to scratch (yes, that would be my butt), but I have managed to scratch my arms and wrists nearly raw. I suspect that I could be developing an allergy to that Evil Medication, but no matter what the cause it is making me extremely cranky.
I won't even go into the current emotional woes if only because having so little time to deal with them I would prefer to just keep them as tightly repressed as possible.
All of this said, I am not in a particularly terrible mood and I actually did get several work tasks done today. Forget that they were all well over-due - I'm just proud that I accomplished something.
I am off to cook some dinner (don't ask me what because I haven't gotten that far)...
The worst of the side-effects from the Neurontin seem to have abated, which makes it all the more annoying when I find myself standing in the living room completely lost as to what I was doing. It sounds stupid to bitch about not feeling like crap constantly, but really when I was obviously in a fog 24/7 it was much easier for me to expect the brain malfunction and definitely easier for me to forgive myself for it. Now that I feel relatively normal, the spurts of losing everything I touch catch me by surprise, and I'm much less gentle with myself when I completely space on deadlines. I'm attempting to remind myself that this really isn't who and how I usually am, but those mean voices in my head certainly LOVE the self-loathing fodder that this drug is feeding me.
A new and extremely unwelcome side-effect of the drug has, however made itself known via my exponentially-expanding ass and waist. I only fit in one pair of my jeans at this point, and have started wearing my "dress" pants fairly constantly since they are a bit bigger. While this may be amusing to some (har har DD has to dress up!) I personally am less than amused. I feel like a toad.
And alas, the epsom salts don't seem to have taken care of everything, as my big toe is now generally crusty with dried pus and the cuticle has separated dramatically from the nail on one side. Yes, the SotBT continues. The only bright spot (if you can consider it one) is that we have figured out what exactly is going on with it - my toenail broke when I broke my toe, and there is a large sharp jag of it ripping through my flesh at a glacial rate - and I no longer have any fear that they will need to amputate LOL. Hell, I may not even have to go to the doctor if I can just bear with the constant (low-grade) pain and oozing pus.
Can you hear the pigeon's wingflaps overhead?
The icing on the cake - or final warm plop on my head, take your pick of metaphor - is that over the weekend I developed a maddeningly itchy rash over the ever-expanding bulk of my body. The worst of it seems to be concentrated on places that are either inaccessible (my ankles, under my winter boots) or socially inappropriate to scratch (yes, that would be my butt), but I have managed to scratch my arms and wrists nearly raw. I suspect that I could be developing an allergy to that Evil Medication, but no matter what the cause it is making me extremely cranky.
I won't even go into the current emotional woes if only because having so little time to deal with them I would prefer to just keep them as tightly repressed as possible.
All of this said, I am not in a particularly terrible mood and I actually did get several work tasks done today. Forget that they were all well over-due - I'm just proud that I accomplished something.
I am off to cook some dinner (don't ask me what because I haven't gotten that far)...
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