Do you ever feel like you’re in a haze? Almost like you’re disconnected from life? I’ve felt that way lately, and I’m starting to wonder if it has anything to do with my lack of Narcolepsy (N) medicine...
I’ll pause to say that today I’m taking a break from the usual crafty post to talk N. On occasion, I write these “The Narc Side” posts, which are meant to discuss different aspects of having N. If you aren’t sure what this disease is about, you can read more about it in my first Narc Side post, here.
Okay, back to my hazy happenings.
To take medicine or not to take medicine? This is today’s question. N causes you to fall asleep and suffer from severe daytime sleepiness. There are drugs to counter this. Strong drugs. Speed, in essence. They work, but not without a price. I took these drugs for five years and just recently called it quits. I quit when I found out I was pregnant, because you can’t be on them while pregnant, and even though I have since lost the baby, I have yet to get back on them. It’s been almost seven months since being off the meds. At first I was shocked at how easy it was. I’ve heard that on rare occasions pregnancy will counter the N symptoms. Perhaps that is what was happening. But I can now feel it catching up to me. Enter the haze.
I’m torn. Do I take the meds or don’t I? At work we’re fans of Pros & Cons lists. It helps us come to decisions we can feel good about. Maybe that’s what I need here.
- It keeps me awake.
- I have more energy to get things done.
- I have a much easier time getting the words from my brain to my mouth.
- I’m more upbeat and have more pep.
- It gives me some control over my life. (Since I’ve stopped taking it, I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight and my house is a worse mess than usual, all because I have very little energy, especially after a day of work.)
- It’s super expensive ($400 out of pocket each month).
- It gives me daily headaches.
- I can’t help but wonder if it had something to do with my miscarriage. (I took it for six weeks before I knew I was pregnant.) If I want to get pregnant again in the future, and I do, I don’t want that anywhere near my system.
- It’s a HUGE pain in the neck to get--lots of approvals and hoops to jump through since it’s a controlled substance.
- Did I mention it was hella expensive?
Bleck. Both lists make good points. There isn’t a real runaway winner here.
Why am I writing all of this in a blog? I honestly don’t know.
Maybe I’m seeking the perfect answer, though I know that’s next to impossible to give. Of course, advice is always nice, with or without that perfect answer.
Perhaps misery loves company and I’m hoping someone will come along and say, “Hey, I know how you feel. I have dilemma X and it sucks.” (Though I don’t wish dilemma X on anyone.)
This post could just be my way of processing some of the crap that’s in my head right now. Some of the stuff I have to think about but SO don’t want to. Maybe I’ll just drop the meds and pretend to be normal and everything will be okay. Yeah, that’s not really working out for me.
I hope it’s not because I’m seeking a pity party, because I absolutely know that there are so many things worse than N. At least I have the option to take medicine. At least I have a disease that I can live with and function with (for the most part).
I can’t explain why I’m sharing this. I just know that I was driving home from work today, blasting a little Def Leopard, and I started to cry. LAME! Who cries to Def Leopard? “Pour Some Sugar on Me” isn’t exactly a song that tugs at the heartstrings. When I explored that and the reasons behind my tears, my absolute and complete exhaustion came to mind. People cry when they’re tired, and I’m beyond tired. Does this mean it’s time to start taking the meds again? Will that help clear the haze? Heck if I know...