The wellness editor at the NYT wrote a thought-provoker linking to an article about the results of a study comparing gender roles and spouses’ feelings about housework between heterosexual and homosexual couples. I thought it was interesting and it’s something I’m going to think about, even though the BH and I are better than many couples I know about splitting the household work.
An assortment of things in my head right now…
I am enjoying the new/old chair with the fancy upholstered seat my friend L. re-cycled to me after getting a new dining set. It’s just the right height and depth for sitting at the table with my legs up on the chair across from me, while I blog and write away.
Tulips are the lollipops of the flower world. Either that, or gerbera daisies. But tulips in Boston are blooming, and the yards are full of lollipops.
Water, Emergen-C, Yogi Tea’s peach detox tea, sports drink. Pee, rinse, repeat.
Downloaded the new NIN album, free online at their site. It’s awesome– I lurve Trent Reznor.
The lady at the grocery store with the screaming, ear-infected infant who took time out of her busy day to castigate me for my made-in-China chinese mary janes, decorated with cute neon buttons by little old moi, didn’t like it when I asked her back, “do you understand the carbon impact of bringing another human into the world?” I like kids, really, but when you’re toting yours in a $1000 stroller? Holier-than-thou 0– sarcasm 1.
Had a wonderful massage last night with lots of lymph drainage work. I am a snotty mess this morning, but I feel worlds better on the withdrawal end of things. Almost like myself, just with a toxin-release-induced cold. I’ll take it. Why isn’t massage prescribed for every bipolar in drug toxicity withdrawal? It should be a standard of care. I will ask my doctor Friday.
I swear, I post about all the side effects mostly so that it pops up in layperson’s terms when someone’s having weird side effects to particular medications. Which is my way of justifying that I am also whining a little. OK, a lot, but I think I am justified, since I am turning into the Mrs. FDA Black Box Warnings.
Today’s side effect was that my pinky fingers had basically glued together with my ring fingers, though it didn’t feel spasmy or tired from the effort. Just… stuck. Which my dermatologist noticed (not that they’re not real doctors, but fer chrissakes, it was so bad my dermatologist spotted it on walking in the room), right after noticing that the muscles of my neck and jaw were tense and clenched. She consulted my chart, saw that I’d just started the Abilify less than a week ago, and suggested I take a Benadryl, now. I did, since I have the handy-dandy faster-acting under toungue strips in my purse. In the meantime, she waltzed every med student in the place into the waiting room while I started to come down from yet another allergic reaction to my f*ing psychotropic medication. I heard her in the hallway, bringing another resident down to see me, say “it’s a very interesting and clear-cut hypertonic allergic response to medication, visible in neck cording and jaw tension. Plus digital fixation or closed spasm.” Or something like that. Just call me Grande Dame Guinea Pig.
But the benadryl? It worked. And I spoke with my shrink, who told me to cut the dose in half and continue with the benadryl. Because I’m not spazzy enough at my baseline, I need to add logy reactions to benadryl to the mix. My chances of ever attaining the middle name of Grace are shot forever.
Thank god I bought a quart of vanilla and a family-sized pack of twinkies. Sheesh.
It wasn’t my thyroid. It was interstitial nephritis, an allergic kidney inflammation. Lucky, ducky, cold-turkey off my lithium me. But, it pays to pay attention to your body, too– goodness knows I’m not interested in spending a few days in the hospital on dialysis. And I get to try abilify to tide me through the wean-off, which in my mind I know has more uses than the antipsychotic use for which it’s often marketed. My pride is wounded at having to take an antispsychotic, though– me, who has never had a frank manic or psychotic/delusional episode. Waaaah, I know. But still, there it is.
I think I need some more Twinkie Ice Cream.
