![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
My brain is not functioning properly enough right now to think of a graceful way to begin this entry, so I will begin by saying I don't know how to begin. Whatever virus Bobby had last week, I caught. I managed to avoid having any affliction worse than my usual felagies (allergies to Felagund, myself) through the whole bloody cold winter. Yesterday, it heats up to the mid-60s and I get sick. How f***ed up is that?
I knew it was coming yesterday afternoon. I'd been having a bout with felagies since the day prior, but as I was sitting here, listlessly working on my story, I realized my throat was scratchy and my nose was congested in a way that it doesn't get during felagies (when it usually just relentlessly drips and drips until I want to plug up my nostrils with hot wax). I thought to myself, "Damn it, and on the night of my long-anticipated skating practice."
I was determined not to let a damned virus ruin my practice, and it didn't. The practice was so good that I am actually starting to believe that I might be improving instead of just having a few lucky instances of three-revolution spins and correct jump landings. I skated my solo the best that I have done since learning it. My nose ran a bit during all this, but I prepared by keeping a tissue neatly tucked away in my bra (alarming my friend when I pulled it out; I don't have pockets in my skating pants) and all was well. Then came the drive home, and the sickness really started, and it hasn't let up since.
Anyone who were to read this journal (ha ha) would probably know by now that I am prone to bouts of insomnia. I have had this tendency for as long as I can remember; I have tried eliminating stimulants before bed (like caffeine), but my damned head just won't shut up sometimes, and I lay awake half the night, thinking through a scene for some story or plotting some new kind of trouble to get myself into. Last night, after getting home around 10, I took a 24-hour decongestant, not realizing that it had pseudephedrine in it. I haven't had pseudephedrine since I was a little kid and my mom used to give me that red-orange liquid Sudafed. I am not big on medicines and generally avoid taking them unless my symptoms become so bad that they are doing my immune system more harm than good. (Science tangent: Most cold/flu symptoms are the immune system's way of fighting the virus, so medications that stop symptoms entirely can prolong the virus' stay.) Needless to say, last night, my symptoms had reached that point. Maybe they figured that they had held off long enough to give me a great hour-long practice, so they'd sock it to me good. Figuring that I would never get to sleep without it, I took the 24-hour pill.
I realized that something was wrong around midnight when I was still awake, my mind was racing, and I had tachycardia just from lying in bed. I got up and checked the medication box: sure enough, pseudephedrine, a stimulant. And I'd just taken a 24-hour dose of it. I also wanted to make sure that tachycardia wasn't a deadly side effect. I don't ingest stimulants besides a bit of caffeine and theophyline in tea (man, I hope I'm spelling these chemical names correctly; it's been a while since my drugs' class in college), so I'm not used to the response to them.
I was a psychology major, so I am aware of how easy it is to condition oneself into insomnia by lying in bed without sleeping. I should have gotten up and gone to the couch or the futon, but call me a romantic still in the honeymoon stage, I didn't want to leave Bobby all alone. So I stayed awake. Around four, I managed to meditate myself into the surface of sleep, only to have a weird dream involving an iron Victorian fence that woke me up. Upon waking up, I was hallucinating. Now don't call the men in white coats quite yet because this is common for me in the last three years or so: I will wake up out of a dream, only I will continue to see something from the dream in the world around me. I realize that it is not real, and now that I have grown more accustomed to it, I always try to strain to see past it, but it won't go away for a few seconds, after which it slowly dissipates. Last night, I had a wrought-iron Victorian fence on my ceiling; in the past, I have had spiderwebs covering my lamp and a neon sign on my wall. None of these things cause any emotional reaction other than mild fascination (and I detest spiderwebs). I don't know if this happens to other people or if it's normal. I have my own physiological rationalizations based off of what I know of biopsychology (and I did get a certificate in the subject, so I do know a bit), but I will save them for now. Suffice to say that I do know that I am entering the age range when most women develop schizophrenia, and naturally, it is a concern, but for the fact that there is no history in my family and visual hallucinations aside from those that are substance-induced are very rare in psychological disorders. Also, I have no other symptoms, except for the occasional eccentric bit of behavior to which I think many artists are prone. Anyway, the hallucination roused me from sleep, and I didn't find it again for the rest of the night.
All told, I think I slept about a half-hour last night, which is a new personal best for me. My previous insomnia record was two hours of sleep. I suppose the next step is a night with no sleep at all.
I even considered calling out of work today. I didn't for two reasons: 1) I despise calling out of work; the only work time I've missed in my whole life was two days, when I was still at Friendly's, for strep throat, and I was contagious and a public health hazard and 2) I would have slept all day and been stuck awake again tonight.
The insomnia did generate a good deal of mental productivity, as it usually does. As I have mentioned, I am trying to get a D&D campaign together for a group of friends and, until last night, hadn't the vaguest idea for a good background story. Alas, last night, one came to me. In the light of day, it seems pretty weird, but I don't think my friends expect much else out of me. Also, it is weird in a unique, not run-of-the-mill-evil-count-holding-a-beautiful-princess-captive kind of way. (Wow! That was a lot of hyphens! Think I overdid it a bit?) Anyway, I am quite excited about it, and when I am done here, I must write it down quickly before I forget it.
However, after a half-hour of sleep, driving to work was not a good thing. Now, I am not tired exactly, in the sleepy sense, but I can feel that the normal neural connections are a bit slower than usual. I did bring two cans of caffeinated Pepsi in case I need a little pharmacological boost to get me through the day. (How lame am I? Most people would be talking about cocaine or methamphetamine, and my "pharmacological boost" comes from two cans of regular Pepsi.) Anyway, as I was driving, I had to concentrate intensely and couldn't trust reflex reactions. You know: The light turns red, your foot touches the brake without thinking about it. You see the light and activate the brake without having to concentrate on the light, perceive its redness, make the decision to brake, and purposefully move your foot onto the correct pedal. I had made a decision to skip a few songs on my Don Henley CD so that I could hear "The End of the Innocence" and "New York Minute" before getting to work, and I was most of the way through "Boys of Summer" before I realized that I forgot to change tracks. If a slow-moving bumblebee were to fly directly at my forehead, I probably wouldn't register it quickly enough to duck.
Needless to say, I am hoping that today is a slow day. I wouldn't mind lounging back and letting whatever pours out of my sleep-starved brain come out. Prolonged sleep deprivation is the closest a healthy person can come to experiencing psychosis; after only a day, I can see why.
Medium Dawn Felagund of the Fountain
P.S.- I just did a spell check--no errors! How 'bout that? There's a first time for everything, it just happens to be a weird time.
Next journal entry
Return home to the Index page
I knew it was coming yesterday afternoon. I'd been having a bout with felagies since the day prior, but as I was sitting here, listlessly working on my story, I realized my throat was scratchy and my nose was congested in a way that it doesn't get during felagies (when it usually just relentlessly drips and drips until I want to plug up my nostrils with hot wax). I thought to myself, "Damn it, and on the night of my long-anticipated skating practice."
I was determined not to let a damned virus ruin my practice, and it didn't. The practice was so good that I am actually starting to believe that I might be improving instead of just having a few lucky instances of three-revolution spins and correct jump landings. I skated my solo the best that I have done since learning it. My nose ran a bit during all this, but I prepared by keeping a tissue neatly tucked away in my bra (alarming my friend when I pulled it out; I don't have pockets in my skating pants) and all was well. Then came the drive home, and the sickness really started, and it hasn't let up since.
Anyone who were to read this journal (ha ha) would probably know by now that I am prone to bouts of insomnia. I have had this tendency for as long as I can remember; I have tried eliminating stimulants before bed (like caffeine), but my damned head just won't shut up sometimes, and I lay awake half the night, thinking through a scene for some story or plotting some new kind of trouble to get myself into. Last night, after getting home around 10, I took a 24-hour decongestant, not realizing that it had pseudephedrine in it. I haven't had pseudephedrine since I was a little kid and my mom used to give me that red-orange liquid Sudafed. I am not big on medicines and generally avoid taking them unless my symptoms become so bad that they are doing my immune system more harm than good. (Science tangent: Most cold/flu symptoms are the immune system's way of fighting the virus, so medications that stop symptoms entirely can prolong the virus' stay.) Needless to say, last night, my symptoms had reached that point. Maybe they figured that they had held off long enough to give me a great hour-long practice, so they'd sock it to me good. Figuring that I would never get to sleep without it, I took the 24-hour pill.
I realized that something was wrong around midnight when I was still awake, my mind was racing, and I had tachycardia just from lying in bed. I got up and checked the medication box: sure enough, pseudephedrine, a stimulant. And I'd just taken a 24-hour dose of it. I also wanted to make sure that tachycardia wasn't a deadly side effect. I don't ingest stimulants besides a bit of caffeine and theophyline in tea (man, I hope I'm spelling these chemical names correctly; it's been a while since my drugs' class in college), so I'm not used to the response to them.
I was a psychology major, so I am aware of how easy it is to condition oneself into insomnia by lying in bed without sleeping. I should have gotten up and gone to the couch or the futon, but call me a romantic still in the honeymoon stage, I didn't want to leave Bobby all alone. So I stayed awake. Around four, I managed to meditate myself into the surface of sleep, only to have a weird dream involving an iron Victorian fence that woke me up. Upon waking up, I was hallucinating. Now don't call the men in white coats quite yet because this is common for me in the last three years or so: I will wake up out of a dream, only I will continue to see something from the dream in the world around me. I realize that it is not real, and now that I have grown more accustomed to it, I always try to strain to see past it, but it won't go away for a few seconds, after which it slowly dissipates. Last night, I had a wrought-iron Victorian fence on my ceiling; in the past, I have had spiderwebs covering my lamp and a neon sign on my wall. None of these things cause any emotional reaction other than mild fascination (and I detest spiderwebs). I don't know if this happens to other people or if it's normal. I have my own physiological rationalizations based off of what I know of biopsychology (and I did get a certificate in the subject, so I do know a bit), but I will save them for now. Suffice to say that I do know that I am entering the age range when most women develop schizophrenia, and naturally, it is a concern, but for the fact that there is no history in my family and visual hallucinations aside from those that are substance-induced are very rare in psychological disorders. Also, I have no other symptoms, except for the occasional eccentric bit of behavior to which I think many artists are prone. Anyway, the hallucination roused me from sleep, and I didn't find it again for the rest of the night.
All told, I think I slept about a half-hour last night, which is a new personal best for me. My previous insomnia record was two hours of sleep. I suppose the next step is a night with no sleep at all.
I even considered calling out of work today. I didn't for two reasons: 1) I despise calling out of work; the only work time I've missed in my whole life was two days, when I was still at Friendly's, for strep throat, and I was contagious and a public health hazard and 2) I would have slept all day and been stuck awake again tonight.
The insomnia did generate a good deal of mental productivity, as it usually does. As I have mentioned, I am trying to get a D&D campaign together for a group of friends and, until last night, hadn't the vaguest idea for a good background story. Alas, last night, one came to me. In the light of day, it seems pretty weird, but I don't think my friends expect much else out of me. Also, it is weird in a unique, not run-of-the-mill-evil-count-holding-a-beautiful-princess-captive kind of way. (Wow! That was a lot of hyphens! Think I overdid it a bit?) Anyway, I am quite excited about it, and when I am done here, I must write it down quickly before I forget it.
However, after a half-hour of sleep, driving to work was not a good thing. Now, I am not tired exactly, in the sleepy sense, but I can feel that the normal neural connections are a bit slower than usual. I did bring two cans of caffeinated Pepsi in case I need a little pharmacological boost to get me through the day. (How lame am I? Most people would be talking about cocaine or methamphetamine, and my "pharmacological boost" comes from two cans of regular Pepsi.) Anyway, as I was driving, I had to concentrate intensely and couldn't trust reflex reactions. You know: The light turns red, your foot touches the brake without thinking about it. You see the light and activate the brake without having to concentrate on the light, perceive its redness, make the decision to brake, and purposefully move your foot onto the correct pedal. I had made a decision to skip a few songs on my Don Henley CD so that I could hear "The End of the Innocence" and "New York Minute" before getting to work, and I was most of the way through "Boys of Summer" before I realized that I forgot to change tracks. If a slow-moving bumblebee were to fly directly at my forehead, I probably wouldn't register it quickly enough to duck.
Needless to say, I am hoping that today is a slow day. I wouldn't mind lounging back and letting whatever pours out of my sleep-starved brain come out. Prolonged sleep deprivation is the closest a healthy person can come to experiencing psychosis; after only a day, I can see why.
Medium Dawn Felagund of the Fountain
P.S.- I just did a spell check--no errors! How 'bout that? There's a first time for everything, it just happens to be a weird time.
Next journal entry
Return home to the Index page
