Well, I've been taking the steps to get myself out of this bone marrow transplanted, DNA switched funk. I've gone to see my GP, been going faithfully to my waterfit class, am seeing a Cancer Agency counsellor and have been trying to be a wee bit more social and have been prescribed more DRUGS. What can I say? I'm a bit of a keener when I think something needs to be tackled. I'm also so freak'n sick of drugs, it's not funny. Now I have little yellow bundles of fan-fucking fantastic delight to add to my arsenal of medicinal bliss.
Just as recently as a few years ago I was a bit of a closeted purist when it came to putting weird things in my body. I never tried smoking and I never touched drugs. Some in highschool may have called me square. It sucks to be them...
but then again I guess now it sucks to be me.
After diagnosis it seems the floodgates have been burst open and the pink elephants have arrived in full fanfare. I was the girl sitting in her hospital bed questioning every pill that came my way. What is this? What is it for? What does it do? What side effects will it have? Do I have to take it? Are you sure I have to take it....really? I was a royal pain in the ass. I did this for quite some time before I realized that they were doing what they had to do for me and I couldn't question every drug they gave to me because it would eventually drive someone mad (probably them).
Next I was the girl with the button for a morphine drip that I refused to press. I had lousy side effects and begged to be put on something else. Then after the something else was worse, (hello big satanic green gorilla with red eyes outside my hospital bed window and flaming green chandeliers on the wall), I begged to be put back on the morphine (hello not knowing which was dream or reality and seeing people who weren't there).
Later I was the woman writhing in pain and begging for the intravenous morphine. At those special points the nurses would actually run to get it. Now I'm the woman who does what she is told and takes the godamned meds. This new one, though, is not agreeing with me. Hell, it's kicking my ass all over the place. The intent of the amitriptyline is to help me to get back into a normal sleeping cycle and to improve the quality of my life.
So far I feel much worse. I guess I'll be giving my GP a call in the morning.