Wii time machine travel aside, I've just not been in the mood to come home and browse the internet lately. That means I haven't visited my favorite bloggers, either. Sorry guys.
There will be no awards for conversation clarity on my mantle. The post below encompasses something I tried to communicate to Mr. Zoom when I - out of the blue - said:
"I feel like I'm ready for elastic mom pants and a sweatshirt with a picture of a kitten embroidered on it."
Remember how I was allergic or becoming allergic to just about every food substance known to be not only edible, but fun? That problem, for the moment, seems to be solved.
Why am I not super excited about this? Why am I not rolling around in Trader Joes chocolate covered peanut butter pretzles?
Because it means taking another drug daily - for the rest of my life - to fix it.
Back when I was not taking any kind of medication, my life was a mess. Anxiety attacks had me housebound and hopeless. For over 10 years now, I've been taking something that prevents that. Makes me "normal" and productive - if not a lot weird and higly distractable. Although that isn't all due to the medication. Most of that was there long before meds. The point is, it took me a long time to get to a place where I'd take the medicine and not feel like a complete loser because I needed it to function.
I said "Ok, getting there sucked, but now I've got a chance for one damn near normal life. I should totally wear it." And I did.
After recently visiting the Dr. who fixed my anxiety problem for me, and discussing the various and multiple allergies I was beginning to collect, he lept out of his chair and started going through some charts in a book. He wrote me a prescription for - Hydroxyzine. Told me to take that, I should be able to eat anything I was previously having reactions to. I scoffed at him. Not only did I just not believe it possible, but I was afraid of it working.
I kept the prescription filled and unused for two whole months. I was afraid that taking it would interfere with the balance I've been able to keep for the past 10+ years. I was afraid that this new factor would throw something off and before I knew it, I'd be back to anxiety attacks I could not control.
Over New Year weekend, I sucked it up and took one of the pills. We didn't have any major plans and if my body mutinied on me, I would have time to recover. That night I had some shredded wheat. That ALWAYS makes me flare up within 4 hours and I'm usually miserable for a week over it. And I was FINE! Not one itch. Not one smidgen of discomfort!
The rest of that week I kept taking the pills and I ate everything I could think of that used to make me break out with the kind of itching where I would literally scratch some of the skin off in an attempt to get some relief. AND I DIDN'T HAVE ANY REACTIONS!
Here's what DID happen. Remember when you were a kid and you were being lectured by your parents? Remember how sometimes you thought it was over and you tried to walk away - just to hear "COME BACK HERE, I'm not finished with you yet."? You know that feeling you got when that happened? I feel like authority just called me back into the room after I made the mistake of thinking things were already taken care of. Only my body, my medication are my authority now. And how many more of these surprises will I face, and will they all be fixable?
I feel a little bit like I'm living on cheater time. Like my body was created in a way that I was never biologically meant to live a "normal" life - and how dare I try to defy it. Like I am now the monster created by the mad scientist - playing with biology and existence. All those things I used to consider medicine did for people when they got much older than I am now, as an attempt to squeeze out a few more good years for them before they ended up a crumpled blob - the cautionary moral of the story - in the corner of their room at the rest home.
But I'm not that old, and I guess I'm a little afraid I'm using up my medical advances a little too early. And I've watched far too many episodes of the Twilight Zone, where getting something you want artificially always seemed to make things worse than when they started.
I know it's futile to worry about what might happen. Really, I do. And I don't want to be all drama queen and claim that my "losing it" is any more devastating than any one else's on this planet. Because it's not. After all, any of us at any time could wake up and face a life changing situation concering our health. But it's difficult to enjoy the peanut butter now when you realize that at any moment you could be called right back into the room..."I'm not finsihed with you yet, put on this kitten sweatshirt."