Had another setback ...

My doctor warned me there could be "setbacks" for another week to ten days (sure hope he wasn't short sheeting the time line).

To recap the past couple of days, I was quite pleased with myself on Wednesday, having made my first foray into the big city on my own, with little fanfare I might add.

But, as it turns out, I obviously was not ready for prime time yet.

My physio session went very well; I actually fell into a deep enough sleep to get to drooling (yes folks, I'm a drooler!), but my snoring woke me.  Before I left there, my physiotherapist applied athlete's tape to my right hip and down my leg (along the femur).  The tape will stay there for up to a week provided I can tolerate the adhesive (which, thus far, has not been a problem).  So I'm strapped up just like a ball player might be to allow him to go out and play in spite of his injuries!  It's proving to be an interesting method of pain control and one that will be added to my arsenal of techniques (we'll apply to both hips at my next session).  Score another one for my physiotherapist.

The original plan for that day had been that I would pick up my little chickadee at work and we'd hang out until it was time to go get my beautiful boy.  Yeh, well, that kind of changed because it was abundantly clear to me that I should not do that as I just knew that I didn't have the energy so I called her and told her I would just go straight to her place to crash and wait there for everyone to get home. 

Which is exactly what I did.  I didn't quite sleep, but I rested and I really needed it.

At the appointed hour we went to my hairdresser's home and she made me beautiful again, and we laughed and carried on the way we always do, and then my little chickadee and I went back to her place to get my beautiful boy and Pauple and off we went to get some grub at the local burger joint (the locale had been determined on the phone two nights earlier when my beautiful boy had called me).

Then it was back to my little chickadee's place and back to the recliner for me, where I stayed.

The next morning, Thursday, my beautiful boy and I had our breakfast date (we've been doing that since before he could actually eat real food from the menu) and then I delivered him to day care before I went to see my doctor.

My blood pressure has been of concern to me lately so he hooked me up to his new $1,000.00 machine that he has acquired and left me alone.  It takes five blood pressure readings, at two minute intervals, but takes the doctor out of the equation, eliminating "white coat syndrome."  When he returned, it was quite clear that my blood pressure is elevated and I have reason to be concerned, especially given my family history of hypertension.  Years ago, when he was convinced that I was on the edge of high BP, he had put me on a diuretic which only served to increase my leg cramps so I took me off it.  That's when I bought a blood pressure monitor and I've monitored my pressure ever since; it's always been well within safe numbers.  Until now, or at least until this nightmare experience with Cesamet anyway.  He gave me some sample pills and instructed me to take only half a tablet each day, and see him again in a month, but continue monitoring my own pressure at home.  His words were, "Given your ability to find side effects, I don't want to take any chances with you." 

I had no difficulty convincing him that I would not take the antidepressant that he had sent the week before (he actually agreed with my reasoning); nor would I take another narcotic for my pain (he agreed with my reasoning there too).   Then he asked what I was going to do about my pain and I simply told him that I would continue using the TENs machine, I showed him the athletic taping that had been applied the day before, and I told him that I would take a Codeine Contin as needed since I knew from past experience that I was able to tolerate using it that way.  He just shook his head in amazement because that is not how it is intended to be used, and that is not how it should be used.  But, if it works, it works.

I then headed home, in a pounding rain storm.  I stopped for groceries, and made a pit stop to drop off my unused Cesamet at my pharmacist's.  While there, I asked him what he thought of the blood pressure med that had just been given to me.  His words, "Couldn't have made a better choice for you.  That's the safest one to use, and I see he's halved the dose, because with your ability to find side effects ..."  I just had to smile at the similarity of thought.  He laughed and said that he should tell drug manufacturers: "If you want to find a side effect, just give it to Bonnie."

When I got home, I was pooped, both emotionally and physically.

And then it happened.

Total and complete meltdown.

The sweats and the chills and the crying and the nausea ... the whole nine yards.

I drew a bath and let the jets pound away at my body, hoping it would relieve the stress, which it did but it also provided an "aha" moment.  I realized that while I managed to make the drive to the big city on my own without suffering any particular stress, it took a physical toll on me that in turn impacted on my psyche.  Hence the meltdown.

But I had things to do that day.  Some very special friends were coming for dinner the next day and the house needed to be cleaned, and I had promised to make my famous creme caramel for dessert and ... and ..

And the following day my sister-in-law was coming with her husband, and my step-son and his wife were coming too, for a no-fuss baked bean dinner.  And how on earth was I going to clean up from one dinner and get things ready for another when I was oh soooooooooo tired.

There just wasn't enough time.

I came out of the bathroom blubbering to John that we just had to cancel Saturday because it was too much for me.  I was overwhelmed with everything that had to be done.

So John calmly made the phone calls to cancel Saturday's commitments because I simply would not be up to it.  No further explanation required.

And John made the dessert, under my careful tutelage.

And I rested.  And the dessert came out of the oven looking simply fabulous!

I took a Gravol and went to bed.

And on Friday morning, the diarrhea hit, which indicated that I was recovering from this setback, as long as I rested properly, (these meltdowns cannot be complete without a bout of diarrhea).

So I rested again, while John vacuumed the house and swept the entrance and set up the table and did all the preparations for the dinner well ahead of guests arriving.

And I continued to rest throughout the day and get stronger.

The only contribution I made to the dinner was the stuffing for the bird (it is my specialty) but John did the chopping and the physical stuffing and placing of the bird in the oven and ...

John cooked the entire turkey dinner with all the trimmings.

The guests arrived and we had a wonderfully quiet, peaceful visit and the meal was well received and the guests left well-fed and happy.

And the evening wasn't too stressful for me.

But I was certainly ready for bed, let me tell you.  (As was John!)

I slept in my usual two-hour spurts, just as I always do.  But in my last session, I had an absolutely horrific bad dream.  I'm told that vivid dreams are not unusual when you're in a state of withdrawal but I have had vivid dreams all my life so I'm not convinced that the drugs can be blamed for the phenomenon in my case.

I have an unnatural fear of bridges, and I've always maintained that I will die by water.  I know not from where that fear comes or why I think I will die by that method.  The fear and "knowledge" have just always been with me.  And this time, my vivid dream combined both those elements in a prophetic manner that woke me in such a state of panic that it took me almost fifteen minutes to calm down.  My heart was pounding with fear!

And John was sleeping like a baby, without a care in the world.  When I tell him about these horrid dreams I have, he tells me that I make too much of them.  But the realism is just too eerie for me; and I have them too often.  Never before have my dreams included him; they've involved my grandparents, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins -- my direct family members.

But this one involved just John and me.

In my car.

Crossing a bridge.

Going over water.

And it scared the be-jesus out of me.

I don't know if I'll ever again be able to relax with him at the wheel of my car when we are going over a bridge!

Anyway, today, I'll be resting again.

I have no choice.

My body won't let me do anything else.

I am getting stronger, but since the doctor has warned me to expect these ups and downs for up to another week, I guess I'll have to slow down my pace somewhat, regardless to what I think I can handle.  Because I really don't want any more meltdowns.  They're not fun.