Yesterday, we had a Paeds appointment for Isaac. Nothing major, just a touch base kind of thing.
However.
The kids woke up at 9.30am, 40 minutes before we needed to walk out of our door.
Okay, we can do this I thought, as I bustled around getting ready for a quick shower – only, when I turned on the water, nothing happened.
Our pipes – were frozen solid.
A fortnight or so ago, to prevent the pipes from freezing again, I’d asked Nathan to wrap insulation around the pipes to protect them. He grumbled, but he did it. Unfortunately, it had gotten so cold that everything had frozen despite it.
I wavered between going to the appointment, or cancelling at the last minute and decided that even without showers, we really needed to touch base. So a quick baby wipe bath later (ugh!) and a frantic dash to get the kids ready, we were on our way.
Only to run into every. single. set. of roadworks between here and the city.
By the time we were reaching the outskirts of Hobart, I was getting very ill and preparing to vomit into a book depository envelope. I opened the windows wide, let in the freezing air, took 2 pramin and hoped I wouldn’t have to throw up.
We parked, just as my nausea abated and I got the shakes. I know once I start to rattle (normally hard enough to make my bedding fall off me if I’m at home) that I’m not going to vomit. Power walking to the hospital, 20 minutes late, I’m not sure what Isaac thought was happening as I held him tightly and shook around everything.
Unfortunately, once I’ve gone through the nausea/feel better/shakes thing, the next step on the agenda is bone crippling exhaustion.
I was a mess.
We made it through the appointment, however, the drive home was less than fun as I huddled in a small ball in my seat, shaking with exhaustion and wishing I could just teleport home, instead of having to put up with 50 minutes worth of driving + stops for petrol and stuff.
Ugh.
There are huge gaps in my memory of the drive and that’s probably the best thing.
Once home, I collapsed into bed with my feet propped up on pillows (the nausea was likely a huge blood pressure dip) and fell asleep, despite Isaac tucked under my chin and trying to poke my eyes out. I was just that exhausted. It hit me like a ton of bricks.
2 hours later, I woke up, still exhausted and dragged myself out of bed. Nathan had cleaned the house and was in the middle of making dinner. Yay Nathan!
Today, I feel much better – it’s sunny outside which helps and I slept for 8 hours straight.
However, I know the exhaustion is lurking still. The Cymbalta, while working amazingly for anxiety, made me rather manic. Which means I used up all my energy for the next month, rushing around like a mad person, getting things done.
I’ve stopped the cymbalta now (god, I feel like a see saw, I write a post saying ‘It works! It’s brilliant!’ and then another going ‘Ugh, side effects, sort of giving me the shits’ and then another saying ‘I’ve stopped the drug, the side effects were making me sicker than the original thing we were treating’. My body – not fantastic at dealing with meds) and I think yesterday was part of the backlash of stopping.
At the very least, I’ve stopped being so nauseous all the time – instead it just comes in big waves like normal, my skin is clearing up – it just needs to heal a little faster, and my anxiety, well, I can deal with that on my own, better than I can cope without orgasms and food.
So yeah, the Cymbalta trial ended sort of badly. Heh.
Also, seeing as how my exhaustion is just sort of sitting under the surface ready to come back, I’m going to be doing some reposts of my older stuff that you might not have seen. I promise it will be funny stuff at least. Also, if anyone wants to put their hand up and guest post, I’ll accept guest posts too.
It’s like a Sleepless Nights holiday, only not really.
