Grab Bag and Apologies
It’s been a WTF kind of week.
First my meds get caught up in an administrative screwup – I ordered both at the same time, one got filled the other didn’t. By the time #2 had gone through the administrative mill, I was down to less than a week’s supply with nearly 2 weeks before I could get to a doctor for a new prescription. Rather than go cold (this particular med has nasty withdrawals), I dropped to half-dose.
Trust me, this is not a good thing. An inadequately medicated Kate is rather like an unstable explosive. You know it’s going to go off, and it’s going to be bad when it does. You just don’t know exactly when it’s going to go off.
There are things I like more than the combination of feeling like my head has been wrapped in fuzz and the fuzz has little spikes. Almost everything comes to mind. Of course, a rather crappy picture of me residing in better dictionaries, right alongside my fellow Mad Geniuses and Worst Peoples In The World (Hi, Sarah, hi Amanda, hi Cedar, hi Dave) when you open the entry for “stubborn”, I didn’t actually tell anyone I was operating on half power.
So yeah. Last week’s post? I fucked up. I totally missed the sarcasm because I was somewhere between halfway and completely out of it. Mea culpa. My bad. Sorry Tam. I try not to go off half-cocked, but the result is that instead I end up with the whole cock and make it worse.
Oh, well. Dad used to tell me that if I had to make a mistake I was better off making a big one because that would get noticed – and could be corrected.
So, yeah. I now have medications again and my system is gradually recovering. I think I’ve got another week or so before the regular level of my meds is back to what it should be. It has to build back up after me running it so low going on half-dose.
Plus I get to have a followup sleep study which means a night and a day wired up to everything imaginable (okay, maybe not quite that much, but there are a LOT of wires) while my brainwaves get monitored as I sleep. Whether they’ll pick up the narcoleptic signs is another question, since the meds typically mask them.
I will say one thing about it – there’s nothing realistic about those movies where people just rip off assorted medical sensors. They glue the things on with weird shit. Unless the glue’s improved, I’ll be spending days picking gunk out of my hair. They sure as hell don’t just pull away with less effort than a band-aid.
So, short version: stop ragging on my last post. I screwed it up, and even when I said so in the comments the whole thing kept on grumbling. Folks, it’s not a sign of weakness to say “My bad, sorry.” Embarrassing, hell yes. Weakness? No (and yes, do this to your characters, too).
Further rantage deferred until I chase down my brain, murder my muse, and wake up a little bit.