Archive for meds

Awesome stitch markers

February 15, 2008 · Filed under Barack Obama, Etsy, knitting, meds, politics, work

Rated R stitch markersfrom Sweetie Peas’ Etsy site. She’s a member of Ravelry, which is where I “met” her. Like I need one more set of stitch markers. Except that she does custom words, and I wanted something a little more risqué than her “Grumpy” ones. She also sent me a really cool present extra:

Heart Obama Stitck Marker from Sweetie Peas’ Etsy site

Love it.

In other news, I got a call from my new boss this morning, and I start work Monday! I took my new pants to Domenic’s Cleaners to be hemmed, and they wonderfully agreed to have them ready by tomorrow afternoon. I told them I hated asking for the rush job; I despise queue-jumpers of any kind, and am loath to do it myself, but I left it too late. I think that I wasn’t altogether confident that I really had the job, and was putting off altering pants that might have to be returned. I guess I can breathe easier now. So now the question is, what to wear? I bought a pants suit (black, goes with everything) and a skirt (black, with pink embroidery), some jackets and a few tops that will go with the pants. I’ll probably have to get another pair of pants, but I didn’t want to go overboard for a job I wasn’t sure about. I won’t be able to wear the last batch of clothes I bought until I lose some of my unemployment weight. Which should be pretty quick; eight hours on your feet tends to make the pounds melt off. Plus, I won’t be near a kitchen all day long either. I’ll have to bring a small jar of Skippy and a spoon so I can take my 3:30 pill; if I take it without some kind of protein, I get dizzy. And more dizzy I don’t need.

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Well, it’s a bit better now

January 18, 2008 · Filed under bipolar, fiber, meds

I went up to the attic with the intention of finding Judi*Kins Diamond Glaze for the aforementioned errant eBayer. What I found was much more valuable. Yeah, I found the glue, but I also found my archival box with The New York Times from September 12, 2001 and the days afterward, the tape I’d recorded of September 11th (not that I’ll ever watch it, but I think it’s important to have. I don’t even have a VHS player anymore, I guess I could get it transferred to DVD…), yummy yarn that I bought at Rhinebeck last year, and some more cute stuff to eBay. I brought up two boxes to put back into the attic (there’s two more waiting downstairs). The reason for wanting the box of newspapers was simple; I bought The Times the day after Hillary Clinton won the New Hampshire primary and I want to preserve that. I also baked the cookies, slicing them whisper-thin. They came out crisp and delicious. They may not make it to tomorrow’s dinner. I’ll think up something else just in case. I remembered to take my midday dose of Geodon (technically not really mid-day but six hours after my first 40 mg dose of the day). I’ve kept the fire fed. I spent the last hour (goodness, time flies!) adding something cool to my blog that my friend Penguin Girl has on hers: for each day where there’s a corresponding post(s), I’ve added a link to my old LiveJournal blog. None for today, but if you look at my post from the 14th, “The Date,” you’ll see way at the bottom a link to the post “Grey Day” from 2006. I’ve only gone as far back as November 1st so far. My writing was pretty wretched back then; I totally blame it on the meds I was on (an Abilify and Wellbutrin cocktail, thankyouverymuch). My writing was never as dull and perfunctory as it was on those drugs, in school I was lauded for my writing abilities and in every honors writing class offered. At the very least, I was writing, bland as it was. I’m slowly getting back there.

I haven’t yet taken a shower, nor eaten lunch (just a few cookies and Diet Pepsi with Cherry), but I think I’ll go bring up the rest of those boxes and get a move on the downstairs. Thanks for the good wishes. :)

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not a good day

January 18, 2008 · Filed under bipolar, meds

I’m sitting at my desk with tears running down my face. I can’t type with the letters in the right order. I just don’t feel good and it is hard, this. I felt the same way yesterday and G suggested that I get under all the afghans I’d knitted, put my feet up, knit, and watch some MythTV, specifically, Needle Arts Studio with Shay Pendray. It turned out to be really disappointing, even though she had someone on from Lantern Moon, all she did was needle-felt some roving into the center of a sewn-on flower. So I watched three episodes of America’s Test Kitchen. All about chocolate. Chocolate in the Tasting Lab, chocolate cakes, mousse, chocolate everywhere. My goal was to get some “mental chocolate” to bring up my spirits. And it worked, for a time. I even mixed the recipe for Cook’s Illustrated’s chocolate butter cookies, to be finished today. Hopefully.

I know I’m not on the full therapeutic dose of Lamictal yet, but jeez, can’t it give me a break? I’m currently taking 75 mg twice a day, with 40 – 40 – 80 mg of Geodon. I know that you have to go up very slowly in order to avoid the death rash. However, I found no heart in reading psycheducation.org’s thoughts on the rash: “Why risk ‘blowing it’ by going up a little faster on the dose and thereby raising the risk of getting the rash, and having to consider stopping entirely at that point? For most patients considering lamotrigine, they’ve had symptoms for years. Waiting another few weeks because of using a slow dose increase — and thus buying a little more insurance that they might be able to benefit and stay on this medication — just makes more sense.” Um, because I FEEL LIKE SHIT NOW? Having had symptoms for decades doesn’t mean that I want to KEEP HAVING THEM. And whoever said that people in the throes of bipolar disorder had any way of making sense of things? The person who thought up that little nugget obviously has never had any dealings with mental illness from a personal vantage point. And it isn’t just another few weeks, it’s another four weeks at least for every level up. From Wikipedia: “Because the dosage must be slowly increased from a sub-therapeutic level to the therapeutic level of 100-200 mg, its utility in the management of acute manic symptoms is debatable; typically benzodiazepines or another anticonvulsant will be used to manage the acute mania until the lamotrigine reaches therapeutic blood concentration.” So I’m at 150 mg a day, I should be feeling some relief. But I’m not. One of the problems I had with Wellbutrin was that, while it was definitely working, it just couldn’t handle my abyssal depression. Maybe my depression is so strong that the Lamictal doesn’t stand a fighting chance? There’s a horrifying thought.

So to help take my mind away, I did some busywork, sweeping the steps to clear away the melting snow, laying and lighting a fire in the hearth with just the hot coals (look Ma, no matches!). I’m still fretting about all the eBay auctions I had that didn’t sell, and the woman with a feedback score of 8 who won two of them but hasn’t yet paid, even after I reported her as a non-paying bidder. She bid on and won two more before I had the presence of mind to block her, let’s see if she pays the total amount. I ticked the wrong radio button on my Unemployment Benefits Claim last week, and now they think I refused work. I sent in the form stating that no, I didn’t refuse work, I made a mistake, but they’re holding benefits until they get the form back. There’s no phone number to call to report my boneheadedness, no email address to write to. At least the claims are somewhat automated on my end, by a weekly web form instead of a phone call. I just have to remember to do it every Monday. And we have friends coming to stay overnight tomorrow; the house is still in post-Christmas mess. I guess that’s what I’m doing today. At the very least, the housecleaners are coming tomorrow before Dave and Shannon get here with the baby.

Small favors: the blower just came on for the woodstove, so now the fireplace will start heating the house, and there’s a log of chocolate butter cookie dough in the fridge that just might make it into the oven. And more busywork to keep me from thinking too hard.

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I need a watch with an alarm or something, not that I’d wear one

November 25, 2007 · Filed under bipolar, meds

I forgot AGAIN to take my second dose of Geodon today. At 7:59 pm, I wrote, “I have no smiles left” on a business card and tucked it into my pocket. At 8:45 pm, I took out the card and wrote, “Some days I feel more like one of the ‘little people’ than others. Today is one of those days.” I just didn’t care anymore, about helping the customers, those elitist, pampered, black-metal-Amex-wielding contemptuous snobs. Didn’t care about your “little pile” of goodies tucked away for you at the counter, nor your penchant for putting wooden utensils in the dishwasher so you have to rebuy them every stinking year, nor your need for me to wrap your things in extra tissue because you’re traveling. I. Just. Don’t. Care. About. You.

What I do care about was the sympathetic voice at the other end of the telephone when I called home. The voice that told me that a delicious dinner would be ready when I got there. The voice that told me I was silly for not taking my meds, not stupid, but silly. It occurs to me that I should have known that such a global shift in attitude was a drug-related thing, but I’m such a rapid cycler that it could have been totally normal for me. Which is really fucking unacceptable. I need to get into a new routine with these meds. They are not to be missed. I can’t fucking function. The candy cane I found as if it were left just for me perked me up a bit, but only while I ate it. I wasn’t able to draw on it, make it last.

—–

On this day: Thanksgiving was fun 2005

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Happy Thanksgiving!

November 24, 2007 · Filed under Hello Kitty, Life in Peekskill, Léa, Zeke, bipolar, cats, family, food, meds

First, let’s get the adorable kin pictures out of the way. Here’s Léa, manhandling her apple pie á la mode:

Léa Madeline, eating Mom’s apple pie

And little Zeke, slurping on his daddy’s head:

Zeke, licking Tom’s pate. Yummy!

Both youngsters were delightedly well-behaved. Léa even had some of G’s delicious Cheddar Soup (almost everyone else had seconds). We got home around 7 pm to re-watch the parade, since I missed seeing Hello Kitty Supercute and my sister informed me that she was definitely there. Meredith Viera even commented on her appearance, wrongly pointing out “her signature right-side bow.” If you’re looking at her it’s on the right, but it’s on Kitty’s left. Idiot wasn’t even paying attention. Oh well, she’s in the parade, that’s all that counts. I got all stupid and choked up watching the Rockettes and the marching bands. Why do I do that? A good day, all in all.

A few things to be thankful for:

My snoring husband, because this means that he is at home with me, lying next to me in our king-size bed with kitties akimbo, and is slumbering sweetly and peacefully.

The internet, for bringing friends to my virtual door.

My family, without whom I wouldn’t be as fucked up as I am, making life much more interesting.

Blogs, which a lot of the time, feel like group therapy, which in real life, I CANNOT STAND, but online, feel much less creepy.

My expensive medication, which is a lot less expensive than it used to be thanks to my new job and a fabulous pdoc who gifts me with samples, and allows me to live something like a semi-normal life. I’m striving for normal. I’ll get there someday.

My new job, which aggravates the shit out of me because they want me to be manic. But I have a job to aggravate me, and therefore, a steady paycheck with benefits.

Espresso. ‘Nuff said.

Tigger, who wakes me up at 5:30 am to pee by smacking my face, without whom I would not be here.

Pye and Harry, who have the awesome power to simply be and that is enough to make me smile.

Life is hard. Wear comfortable shoes.

—–

On this day: Thanksgiving morning 2005

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Definitely addicted

November 11, 2007 · Filed under Life in Peekskill, bipolar, meds, work

I’m either going to have to get myself one of these or make a daily pilgrimage to The Peekskill Coffee House for a 20 oz. mocha. Crazy money plus tax versus $4.00 a day. That’s basically one year’s worth of mochas (every working day for a year). But then there’s the “buy ten, get one free” card stowed neatly in my wallet. I think that’s more math than I want to do right now. All I know is the difference in my day today was astonishing. It was either the caffeine, or the increased dose of Lamictal, or both, or rays from Mars, because I felt awake today. Like I haven’t felt in a REALLY LONG TIME. We were totally slammed all day long, like there was money falling from the sky outside the mall the way people were spending. And I didn’t falter. Sure, it wore a little thin around 4:30-5:00, but that’s only to be expected. Espresso can’t last all day, can it?

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“My first act as Queen/King of the World will be…”

October 21, 2007 · Filed under Sunday Scribblings, bipolar, meds

Universal health care for everyone. EVERYONE ON THE PLANET. And by that I mean good, effective, reasonable health care where the doctors and nurses don’t treat you as if you are a blight upon the Earth. Or crazier than they’ve ever seen before. Or stupid and ignorant. Even if you are. I don’t intend for doctors and hospitals and drug companies to go broke or die trying, no, not at all, but to be simply reasonable about the whole thing. For those of us who require more, erm, attention in the health care department than others, I think that it shouldn’t break your bank to try to be well. I think that Big Pharma ought to change the wording for their “indigent patient programs.” Here’s what the dictionary had to say about the word indigent:

1. lacking food, clothing, and other necessities of life because of poverty; needy; poor; impoverished.
2. Archaic.

a. deficient in what is requisite.
b. destitute

Deficient in what is requisite. Oh, man, is that a stigma. As if we needy folks aren’t needy enough, you have to add stigma to the top? And I, working retail, make too much money to be considered. Do you know what retailers are paying these days? Oh yeah, there’s a pretty passable discount, but do you actually know what my paycheck reads for standing on my feet with crazy clown smile on my face pushing one more extravagantly priced knife, one more hurricane lamp, forty hours a week? After taxes and insurance (for both of us, because as a one-man operation, my husband doesn’t qualify as a small group for insurance), it isn’t much. I took a pay cut to work where I do now (but the insurance is actually better and cheaper than at my last job, so it kind of evens out), and my employers are pretty high up on the pay scale retail-wise, trust me, I’m not cranking on my job, just the whole benefits thing. Ha! They have the nerve to refer to the whole scam as benefits. And I’m at the mercy of the insurance company, they get to decide if I’m worth the cost of my medication. One company, years ago, decided that they weren’t going to pay for brand-name Wellbutrin any more, just for bupropion, the generic. My thoughtful pharmacist (can you taste the sarcasm?) informed me that it was a “Class A generic,” meaning that they are bioequivalent (containing the same active ingredients as the original formulation). However, as Wikipedia points out, “Bioequivalence, however, does not mean that generic drugs are exactly the same as their innovator product counterparts, as chemical differences do exist. Some doctors and patients emphatically believe that certain generic drugs are not as effective as the products they are meant to replace…” She then adds, flippantly, “I mean, it can’t hurt to try it, right?” Lady, it will hurt you, me, and anyone who gets in the way if this shit doesn’t work. Luckily, for everyone, it did work, up until recently.

Or maybe I’m just cranky.

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$111.84

October 15, 2007 · Filed under Life in Peekskill, bipolar, meds, work

Is how much 60 80mg capsules of Geodon costs with my new insurance plan. Way better than $441.58, which is what it cost under my old plan. Still not as good as free, but I knew that my pdoc wouldn’t be able to keep handing it out to me forever. Wonder how it’s going to react to the simply lovely Gewurtztraminer I’ve been nursing for the past two hours? I’m a bit dizzy…Best drug news? Generic Ativan costs EIGHT DOLLARS.

Had to be at work at nine this morning (ugh) and was, of course, exhausted. But surprise, surprise, I gobbled down a Triple Chocolate Chaos Balance Bar (no high fructose corn syrup!) and felt instantly revived. I mean, within minutes of eating the last bite. I woke up, felt better, total yay. I’m going to make sure I have plenty of these bad boys in my locker for the future.

Reheated the second half of last night’s turkey, bacon, and cider pie for dinner tonight, and the flavors just melded and blended into what I lovingly refer to as “crack.” I crisped it just a little too much in the toaster oven (I keep forgetting that it runs hotter than it says) and had to scrape off some of the charred bits, but it was pretty damn tasty. We ate while watching Heroes, totally forgetting about the aforementioned Gewurtztraminer until after we’d licked our plates. Damn!

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A little more verve

October 14, 2007 · Filed under bipolar, meds, work

To say that I haven’t felt “myself” in a really long time is an understatement. Replacing the Abilify with Geodon and dumping Wellbutrin altogether has definitely made a huge difference, and shifting my hours has made a possibly even bigger difference. But apparently not enough, to one person at my job. Someone who has a big mouth and has managed to get the ear of my boss. Someone who doesn’t have my best interests at heart, to say the least. Someone who thinks I don’t “move fast enough.” This one person, I have been warned, has it in for me. That she’s aiming for the top of the ladder and for some reason, feels threatened by me and is trying to knock me out of her way. She, of course, has not said anything of the sort to my face, but has persisted with snide, harassing comments with a supercilious tone of voice. I worked my ass off yesterday (won the sales contest, thank you very much!), hustled and bustled, and was told by another coworker that my effort was noticed, that I was doing a good job. Not fifteen minutes later, the loser comes at me like a bad parent, seemingly determined to teach me a lesson. I’m going to document every comment she makes, and if there is another conversation with my boss about my supposed poor performance, I’m going to read it like a laundry list. And advise her to speak to the coworkers with no axe to grind, who are without prejudice. Meanwhile, I’m going to just try the fuck harder, to put even more effort into everything I do there already. And hope that my pdoc will prescribe an effective antidepressant when the blasted Wellbutrin is finally out of my system.

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Asthmacat

October 4, 2007 · Filed under cats, meds

When Pyewacket found us two years, one month, and three days ago, she weighed six pounds, fourteen ounces, and was covered in scabs. We subsequently found out that she has asthma, and stress, airborne allergens, and cold weather bring it out in her. Fast forward two years, one month, and one day and here again is the cold weather and we’re in a new house with all sorts of airborne allergens. One of our friends gave us the name of a very reputable vet WHO MAKES HOUSE CALLS. We called her, left a concerned message saying that our little (now eight and a half pound) cat was having regular (every other day) coughing spells and that we had her on prednisone but her scabs were worse than we’d ever seen them and would she please come take a look?

Dr. Andrea Jacobson called us the next morning at nine (ugh) set up an appointment for that morning at ten (Tuesday), and arrived not much later. She examined the very amenable Pye, pronounced her “beautiful” and questioned us extensively on our habits; do we do any smoking? (No.) Of any kind? (Again, no.) Do we burn candles/use air freshener? (No.) What do we feed them? (Harmony Farms, Wellness, Pet Guard, Pet Promise, a host of natural and organic foods. None of that Friskies shit.) What kind of litter do we use? (Arm & Hammer and oops, Fresh Step. Fresh Step is a no-no because of all the fragrance. I’ll be returning the two new containers tomorrow). Where does she sleep and on what? (Any available or not-so-available box, and at night, the bed, with us.) Is the coverlet cotton? (Nope, am ordering the Mercer duvet cover from the Crate and Barrel Outlet tomorrow) And seventy-three other questions that I can’t remember. So we now have a plan of attack. The vet called in a prescription for prednisolone (THAT was an interesting phone call; you try explaining that the name of the patient really is Pyewacket. They still got the spelling wrong.) and there’s a whole regimen of so many for so many days, then less, then less still. I’ve ordered Wysong Nurture Feline Kitten Diet although idiot girl forgot that Amazon might, just might have it and ordered it from somewhere else. Stoopid girl. Oh well, they’ll go through it fast enough, all three beasties are going to be on it from now on. To prevent “storage mites,” I’m freezing a containerful of the dry food overnight (even though the bulk of the food is in an airtight container, they can still get in. Ew.) to feed to them in the morning. And now they are getting twice as much wet food as before, a three-ounce can split between two plates twice a day. I even saw Pye eating the wet food yesterday, wonder of wonders! Cereal Girl, eating wet food? The boys had had their fill and left some on the plate, a normally unusual event. Don’t get on me about the teeny amount of wet food they’re allotted; they’ll leave any more than that to get stale, I’ve tried every good food out there. Along with the regimen of prednisolone, Pye will begetting a once-daily dose of omega-3 fatty acids called DermCaps (for petite and miniature breeds).

The vet applauded our habits and practices, and let us know with the changes to be implemented, we should see a turnaround in our little girl. Who is sleeping soundly on a bamboo placemat on the dining room table.

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