Has the ennui of lockdown eroded your spirit to the point you can’t tell one week from the other, let alone the days? If so, you may be thinking anything to spice up the old day-to-day would be an improvement. I sympathize, but I cannot recommend the lengths I accidentally went to this week which certainly created a time I will be able to pick out with absolutely no trouble.
I have spent every day since this weekend increasingly baffled about how uncomfortable I’ve been. Headaches, stomachaches, muscle aches: all the aches. Hot flashes and cold clammy spells. A weird, free floating weakness that made me rethink taking the trash out. And plenty of mental excitement as well with confusion, irritability, and anxiety flitting through my responses like an emotion strobe light.
None of these troubles lasted long and very rarely occurred simultaneously. Everybody would just line up, patiently waiting their turn. Naturally, Ii assumed I had the covid virus, cause why not, but the ongoing mental fog made sure I never had the brain power to be very concerned.
And then Thursday night, the muddle thinned out long enough for me to think “I wonder if this has anything to do with stopping my anti-depressant cold turkey?” And the Duh Award for 2020 goes to mrpreenee. Again.
I have been taking Lexapro for about 15 years for my depression. I called in my refill last week (when I still had a few functioning wits) to my mail order pharmacy and went back to wondering about whatever happened to various porn actors from 30 years ago.
Tragically, Mike Betts, my favorite person of porn ever, is no longer with us.
Eventually, I ran out of Lexapro, cause that’s what happens when you take a medicine every day. I knew you are never supposed to just stop it without tapering, but I had ordered a refill and assumed it was on its way and the shortfall wouldn’t be for long. Lah Lah Lah lalala la. What a beautiful fool I was.
Turns out my stolen credit card which I cancelled in mid-April and which has been causing me grief ever since, is still up to its old hijinx. The pharmacy had the number I cancelled and when they attempted to charge the refill to it, it was declined. And so they deleted the order, a bold move I only discovered when I called yesterday to ask “Whatever happened to that drug I’m supposed to never stop taking?”
Eventually I hammered out actually refilling the prescription. It’s supposed to be here on Wednesday. The only problem is that since I ran out almost a week ago, I have been slowly sliding into withdrawal, which is where all those pesky symptoms originated.
Calling in to their customer service was exactly as much fun as it ever is, but livening up the exchange was my lack of metal clarity. Trying to explain the situation was about as effective as writing graffiti on the wall and hoping for the best. Thank god the chick on the other end of the phone was patient; unfortunately, she was also sort of dim. I was hampered by the fact I couldn’t remember the name of the drug and also by the fact I didn’t realize the credit card number fiasco until way late in the conversation, when I had to then try to explain it to Miss Not The Sharpest Knife In The Drawer.
Actually practice with that exasperating little song and dance came in handy when I had to go through all of it again with my doctor’s office and Walgreens since I had to beg for enough pills to get me through the rest of this week until the mail order ones get here. If I hadn’t already been crazed and beaten before those chats (multiple chats because the insurance wouldn’t let them give me the medicine I needed to not be a crazy, sick old queen) I certainly was by the end of them.
Anyway, all of that is finally behind me, I have my drugs and I expect to be shipshape any day now. Which would be a relief since I have had absolutely no control over my emotions for days now. I teared up watching the video of the CNN reporter being arrested on live TV for covering the protests in Minneapolis, even as I wondered “There are black people in Minneapolis?”
Understanding what’s going on in my disrupted little brain also makes me feel better about my run in with the smug, eminently quarantined pig lady at the grocery (here) I realize now I was chemically out of control and maybe understandably on the verge of attacking her with whatever was the most lethal product in my basket. Social distance? Bitch, I am off my meds and the distance you should be concerning yourself with is however much you can nail down by running in the opposite direction. But you know, you live, you learn.
Perhaps naked men will make me feel better.
I feel better already
That goony look on his face? That’s how I have felt all week
Did you know Tolstoy was a hot army guy?
And that he was reincarnated as porn bitch Jake Orion?
Sometimes I pick dick shots not just for the dickiness. Like this one. More than its photoshopped pud (stupid photoshop,) I was struck by his delightfully precise tanline. Which part(s) of that are real?
For mikey. Cause he’s all about dat daddy stuff.