Untitled #11

I felt numb.  I had so many words but no way to get them upon a page.  The husband thought I was tired, that was why I was staring in to space.  But really I felt numb.  I hoped that it would get better, and I was lucky.  It did.  I wonder if it was more psychological than any effect of the changing medications but I doubt I’ll have any way of knowing for sure.

I’ve not slept well for weeks.  I’d gotten used to waking in the night for bathroom trips.  I’d sleepily stumble out of bed and make my way there and back, falling into bed again with a thud and heading straight back to sleep.  But then I started waking for no reason.  A few times a night I’d wake, listen to the husband snore for a while and then fall back to sleep again.  It tired me, but I could deal.  It certainly couldn’t be any worse than the sleep deprivation that will come in a few months time.

But then I slept for a few hours, and woke, every 15 to 20 minutes for most of the night.  And I was exhausted, and numb.  But I carried on anyway.  The husband said it was one of the side effects and I argued that it couldn’t be.  I’d only taken two tablets so far. 

And the next night it happened again; I slept for a few hours then woke every hour, almost on the hour until a few hours before the alarm went off.    And the next night.  And the next. 

I started going to bed earlier.  9:30, 9:00, 8:00.  We’d sit down for dinner, the boy would go to bed and I’d be free to fall into my own.  Anything for a few hours.  Anything to feel human again. 

Two nights ago I had a good night; the gaps between waking were longer.  I felt better during the day.  I stayed up later going to bed just after 9:30.  But it didn’t work.  Today I feel just as bad as before.

Then there’s the heat.  The office is cold at best but I’m burning up like I’m standing beside a furnace.  I’m so hot and sweaty that I feel sick.  The tube is no better.  It’s been bad since summer, but this past week it’s seemed so much worse.  People sit there in their winter coats but I strip off the layers.  I’ve stopped carrying a cardigan back and forth to the office, it sits in my locker just in case.  Instead I travel in a lightweight jacket which comes off as soon as I descend into the dirty tunnels.  Still I roast, unable to gain even the slightest control over my internal thermostat.  I disembark from the train feeling physically sick, dizzy, weak.  All I can think of is making it up those escalators and out in to the cool autumn air.  I’ve had to ask the husband to pick me up from other stations, just so I can travel on overground lines in the hope of a little moving cool air. 

I don’t know which problems are symptomatic of which issues.  Is it pregnancy, tiredness, or the new medication?  I’m so exhausted that by each afternoon I have headaches, dizziness.  Both I know are a problem for me when I’m overly tired, but they’re also listed symptoms of the medication. 

The house has fallen by the wayside.  It’s not important when compared with the search for sleep.  The laundry remains unwashed, days’ worth of washing up piled in the sink.  I tried to attack both but I gave in preferring to sleep.  This morning I had to tumble dry underwear in the hope that it would dry in time to be worn before we had to leave.  There was none left in two out of three drawers.

I wonder what will fall next.  My work is shoddy, maybe it’ll be that.  Perhaps time with the boy spent doing his homework.  Maybe eating in the evening will be the next to go.  Surely I can only eat two meals a day if it means another hour’s sleep.

I have an appointment with the doctor on Monday.  Already I’m not hopeful.  There’s too many things to consider, all too closely linked with this new medication.  It’s not the GP who’s prescribed it to me but the psychiatrist.  How willing will she be to interfere with a treatment plan another doctor has devised?

What I do know is that I can’t go on.