And another say seamlessly and quietly melds into the day gone before, just as this one will likely meld into the day to follow. I\m losing track, spending long, wasted stretches of time idly in front of my TV, watching pointless shows on Netflix which have nothing to do with my reality, or pretty much anyone's reality who's not in the Mob or some cartel or other. I am wasting time, an odd thing to do when I have so little of it remaining.
My social life has gone all to hell. I still have people coming over, just not as often as they used to. There are those who I can count on to drop by, given a couple days advance notice. There are those who I know will drop by; I just don't know when. Some weeks are busy, mostly around dinner. Perhaps that's a good thing given that this time of days is when I seem to have my best energy, my most abundant strength.
Speaking of strength, Friday night was brutal. Not only were my arms attacked with this incredible weakness, they were also being ravaged by this severe muscle pain in the remaining muscles of my upper arms. I went to bed, hoping I could sleep it out. Only the pain got worse as night wore on. Finally, at about 2:00 am, I could find no restful position against the pervading pain. I thought to myself, "Tylenol. No; Percocet!" Then I realised I couldn't open the drawer on my night table wherein the drugs lay, let along reach it at all. Then I looked again and saw my Zopiclone right there within almost easy reach as long as I used a grabbys stick. I worked at it for a while, finally gaining success. It was now 3:00 am.
Zopiclone is risky. It has an operating window of about 8 to 10 hours on me, assuming I take one 7.5 mg pill. So taking one at 3:00 am gives me a target awakening time anywhere from 11:00 am to 1:00 pm, perhaps even 2:00 pm given my level of exhaustion. It would be tough getting up if homecare came at 10:30 am, impossible if they came 9:00 am. I was in pain. I needed to sleep. I took the pill. I remember taking the pill. I remember starting to count back from 100. I don't remember 80.
The darkness took me. It took me so strongly that I missed the call from my new HCA, Gurinder, telling me that he would be there before 11:00 am. Then I missed his call from the front door to be let in. Then I missed the call from CBI wondering if I was home and alive. As usual, this was the end of things on their end. Had I been dead it might have been a day or two before anyone noticed, not that it would have bothered me. No, I was alive and woke up shortly before noon, or rather partly woke up.
I called the CBI. After much pleading and explaining, they said they would send Gurinder back at about 1:00 pm. He came, did my morning routine, then put me in my wheelchair. He left. I rolled into the kitchen, at some watermelon, then promptly fell back to sleep. Next thing I knew it was almost 3:00 pm, and the damned Zopiclone was still hitting me. I was seeing double. I was seeing things which weren't there! I could barely hold my head up.
In response, somewhere in my addled brain I thought I might do better if I was in the living room. I rolled over there, a little to the left of my normal seating. This was to become important in a moment. I parked, and promptly fell asleep. This was, of course, before I had a chance to take my wheelchair out of gear or shut it off. I awoke a few minutes later with a start as my toes were squeezed into my patio window. I had been driving while sleeping. I backed up, turned the chair off, and was gone until 5:00 pm when Kabira came for my afternoon check.
Kabira may, or may not, have made some dinner for me. I can't remember. What I do remember is her coming back at 9:00 pm, early, to put me to bed. All in all I had been awake perhaps 2 out of 24 hours, perhaps less. Even this morning I had a bit of a Zopiclone hangover. On the plus side, my arms don't hurt.
No comments:
Post a Comment