Because You Asked...

Now I think it's time that I give y'all an update on my health, since (you know) that's the purpose of this blog, lol :P. And a lot has changed since my long hiatus began.

So, before we moved in August (or, indeed, even knew we would be moving so soon), I went to a new doctor on the outskirts of Chicago. I picked her, for the most part, because she is female and I have a long history of older, male doctors who I've had pretty serious communication issues with. That stipulation didn't give me a lot of neurologists within two hours to choose from, and she was the only one who seemed to have Narcolepsy on her resume. Indeed, she did seem to listen to me and understood my need to get off of Xyrem. She was a little skeptical that I would be alright without trying stimulants, but agreed I should get off of Xyrem first and see how it went. So she told me I could just stop taking it, and that it would wear off pretty fast, which seemed a little contradictory to what I've heard. We agreed I should stay on Remeron because of my family and personal history of depression and the fact that it should aid my sleep as well.

So I left the appointment pretty happy with what I'd learned, but not terribly attached to this particular neurologist. Which is probably good, now that I live a day's drive from there anyway.

I got off of Xyrem several days after the appointment, and I was really glad that I did. Even now that I'm not really sleeping I don't regret it. My stomach was instantly doing a happy victory dance. I could immediately eat breakfast again, not having to wait until the nausea wore off late in the morning before putting anything in there. I could eat anything (gluten-free/soy-free) that I wanted, whenever I wanted. I could feel hunger again before getting really fuzzy headed or dizzy. In short it is awesome. I can eat again!!!!!!

In two months I went from ten pounds underweight (with my hip bones prominent and ribs visible) to having a little bit of a tummy and the proper curves. I went from a size 2 to a size 6. It's not the numbers that I care about so much though- it's the fact that I feel healthy again. My body feels like it actually has some substance to it. I feel like I'm the right weight now, and it's been years since I felt this good physically. I have to be careful, now, though- I don't want to keep on climbing until it's unhealthy, and that takes some work on my part because increased appetite is a side effect of Remeron that I definitely feel. I'm careful to control how much I eat at once and I limit how much snacking I'm allowed to do between meals. I actually usually just eat one large meal a day because with our healthy, vegetable-rich diet, more than that is too much. I eat a small breakfast, a large lunch, and a snack for dinner. I'm finding that this works really well for me and my girlfriend, too.

So, that's the good news. The bad news is that I'm not sleeping- as you might expect. I used to write down my dreams, but now I have too many to bother. The other day I jerked awake, full of terror at 2 AM, because I heard an excruciatingly loud and frightened scream right next to my ear. I haven't had much in the way of sleep paralysis, which is good if mysterious. Mostly it's just been the dreams. I've had tornado dreams, dog training dreams, beautiful scenery dreams, Harry Potter meets Stargate Atlantis dreams, car crash dreams, even a dream in which I was bicycling along a partially submerged wall through a field of swimming pools. It goes on and on and I wake up to find that it's still 3 something. I go back under, and then it's maybe 4 something. Eventually at like 7 I give up, which has me ready for bed the next night at about 8. I've mostly been sleeping in long naps on the couch in the mid-afternoon with my cat asleep on my stomach, and I'm pretty sure that's the only reason I'm (more or less) conscious the rest of the time.

When we had just moved I was walking the dogs at least once during the day while my fiancee is teaching, and sometimes twice, but as I've been steadily going down in energy level I might be able to do it once if I'm lucky. I'm also pretty frustrated at the fact that I have so much art I want to do but it happens slowly and in short stretches if at all. This is even more maddening because we're so low on money and there isn't anything I can do to contribute directly. The real world is just too demanding for me to keep up. We're doing fine because we have two sets of parents helping us in various ways. It should be better next year when my girlfriend is working full time at the school rather than the current part time (we have reason to hope), but for now we run out of our own funds before the month is out and have no way of saving up for the future. It's hard for me to watch that knowing that I can't earn any extra; I can barely take care of the chores that I enjoy doing and keep the place reasonably clean. I know that my most important job is taking care of the family (two cats, two dogs and the girl) and that even on my worst days I'm a huge help in that regard. I try to remember that and to know that I'm contributing a lot just by existing (our especially needy cat thinks so, too).

But I have to say my symptoms aren't as bad as they used to be in high school before I was diagnosed. I think the Remeron is definitely part of it, but also it's the lack of stress in my life now- the lack of unreasonable expectations. I do what I physically can and for once, it's enough. In fact, it's appreciated greatly by everybody. And to be honest I'm not in any hurry to try adding other meds. My stomach has in some way rejected everything else I've tried, including other antidepressants, Nuvigil, Provigil, and Ritalin. And I like my new-found ability to eat food, thank you very much. :D

A Poetry Phase? You've Got To Be Kidding Me

Apparently I'm going through a poetry writing phase. Of all things to happen to me, this is really, really weird. I'm pretty much used to my brain throwing weird stuff at me at this point, but a poetry phase tops it all. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

I have a very staunch history of hating poetry, starting in the eighth grade when I was completely traumatized during an entire poetry unit. My English teacher made us analyze and write poetry until I was totally sick of it, and I was terrible at it which didn't help. It was horrible- I wrote so many obviously sucky poems, with no idea how to come up with anything better, and the worst (and now, most amusing) part was our final project. We had to write several poems and write five paragraph essays analyzing them. I have very amusing memories of going over to my best friend's house right before it was due and trying very hard to come up with something that you could concievably write five paragraphs about. What I ended up with was (something like) the following:

I hate homework,
It's not any fun,
I hate homework,
I can't get it done.

And then I proceeded to write five paragraphs (very short ones, mind you), throwing in as many devices from my list as I could possibly pretend were there in an attempt to not fail the unit. And I got a pretty crappy grade, but it was kind of impressive it wasn't any worse and believe me, it wasn't from lack of trying.

Ever since I've had a sort of automatic "UGH!" reaction any time anyone says the word "poetry". I didn't go near it again until my senior year of high school, when I finally had a good English teacher. I was still beyond me, however- I failed multiple essays because I completely missed the point of whatever we were supposed to analyze. So to me, poetry has always been something to avoid at all costs. Not something for me to be writing out of the blue- all the time.

It may have been about a month ago when it started trying to seep out of me. I was writing a note to my girlfriend and thought it would be funny to make up a poem from our notoriously emo black cat's point of view. So I wrote a ridiculous-on-purpose angsty cat poem. The next day I thought it would be funny for our other cat to write something, and ended up writing something from our big dog about our little dog, too. It seemed like a pretty funny joke. But I'd started creating a monster without realizing it yet.

My girlfriend, being the biggest English nerd on the planet, has a bunch of books about writing and how to get started with it. We started reading one and doing the activities as something amusing to do in the evenings to relax. So one night the activity was to write for ten minutes about anything and not be bound by any rules other than the time limit. You were just supposed to follow your stream of thought and see where it would go. My girlfriend ended up with a pretty long and complete short story that, once started in that ten minutes, consumed the rest of her spring break because it was so desperate to get on paper. I ended up with poetry. The first couple sucked a lot- even I could tell that. But then, once I got going, it got pretty cool. It shouldn't surprise anyone that it ended up mostly about narcolepsy and occasionally about horrible creepy things. Go figure.

And I haven't been able to stop since then. At least a couple come out every day, mostly about whatever is going on at the time- our animals, food, or things I have trouble with because I have narcolepsy. I'm still pretty weirded out by the whole poetry thing, but who knows... I might as well go with it.

Here are the ones I have so far that I actually like. Feel free to criticize- I have no idea what's actually good and what actually kind of sucks, though I'm finding I can usually tell when something really sucks. I'll spare y'all those. Oh, and they don't have titles, and they're all one stanza (apparently), so the spaces separate different ones- don't read it as one thing. And lastly, I officially apologize to anyone who hates poetry as much as I (usually) do, lol.

About narcolepsy:

I'm sleepy
Thoughts drifting
On an open-window-breeze
Flowing gently back and forth
A breath of a storm
Something dark lurks, waiting
As my consciousness drifts, helpless
Airy, feathered
The hidden monster
Deep teeth
Ready to spring and consume
To drown
In fear
In dreams
Tail lashing
Forked tongue lashing
Striking without warning
From floating comes sinking
Sucking
Down into depths
Feeling like oceans
Cold clinging
No escape

Words
Come flowing
Tripping, dripping
Dipping into my memory
Searching
For meaning
Hidden
Under rocks
Behind bushes
Inside streams
Among fish
Fishing for words
Encased in ice
In little huts on a lonely lake
In winter
Not my season for words

Cracks
In my head
Thoughts slip through
Unbidden, fall away
Dissolve
Become nothing
Are lost.
Searching,
I cannot recall them.
They are gone.
But perhaps
There will be new thoughts
And that is enough.

Life:

Waiting, impatiently
Aroma wafting my way
I fidget, lick lips
Hungry for trying the latest
Concoction
Sitting, bored, writing
To pass the time
Until it is cool
And tongue is not burned
Mysterious orange sauce

Sleeping cats
Rise and fall
Of fuzzy chest
Fluffy tail
Dark ear
Together a yin yang
A balance
Light and Dark
Male and Female
Entwined in peace
Asleep
In their forms
You can see Love

Other stuff:

Shard of wood burning
Intense blue
So yellow it's white
Edges
Glowing within
Like those eyes

Thunder screaming
Shouting its words
Raining its tears
Choking the sky
The ground, the earth
Nourishing, hunting
Crying
Booming
Crashes against ears
Of all shapes and sizes
Paralyzing
Drowning
Loving
Holding
Rain

So there you have it. Weird poetry from me! And there will probably be more. Be afraid! Be very afraid...