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Diaryland is da bomb I just *have* to tell you how much this all sucks. Who're these other people he's writing about? Who's the freak writing this, anyway? What's gone before. What's going on right now? Where do *you* visit on the web? What're you building right now?


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Another smart-assed remark from Mike
Doctors shouldn't wear Mickey Mouse watches
22:00:00 on 2000-01-07

Remeron ® Day 1 Remeron ®

Feeling:

Awake. No discernable effect from the medication yet, other than I slept really well for a change last night.

Latest harassing email:

Current Winamp skins (click image to download):

I'm going between Gillian...

...and whoever this redhead named "Isla" is...


...and one skin that I would post, but would violate the terms of service with my ISP to serve the image or archive file from their web servers. [grin]

Listening to:

The theme from "Terminator 2: Judgement Day"
The county mental health authority has put me on Remeron. It's a fairly new antidepressant having just been just approved in 1996, and is quickly effective with few side effects, from what I can discern from research on the web.

Supposedly, the worst I should expect is dry mouth, a little dizziness getting out of bed and maybe headaches (like I don't have those already) or nausea or constipation, which I can do something about.

Cool. [smile]

Well, there is one more potential weird side-effect; odd and vivid dreams. Mine are usually odd and vivid, anyway, but some of the info I found using Dejanews from Usenet says that some people's get very strange and terribly realistic. I guess I'll let you know.

Crafty jokingly referred to it as a "wonder drug" last night. Supposedly it will help with my depression, concentration and focus (I consider these interlinked, but separate; concentration would be my ability to think deeply in the moment, and focus would be my "stick-to-it"iveness over a longer term), lack of sleep (it's pretty sedative; it knocked me out last night in about a half hour), antisocial behavior (I haven't really interacted well with most people since I was in high school) and irritability (I've been biting peoples' heads off lately, and have off and on for years). Let's hope it does something for symptoms that I tend to keep to myself, too.


The staff were really quite efficient at the mental health authority, apart from the initial wait. This was totally unexpected.

I got there at about 2:58 PM for my 3:00 PM appointment (I'm not very good at showing up early for anything), signed in and sat down. Of course, as my mind does frequently, it started to wander. I listened to what the receptionist had on her radio (something that others where I'd worked the graveyard shift in '96 listened to, and it'd grown on me ("I like the way you work it/No diggity/I got to bag it up")), flipped through a catalog of government booklets and listening to some woman in her mid-fifties who was also waiting telling an older woman that yes, in fact, she did eat lunch that day (apparently her mother).

Around 3:30 my name was called. It turned out to be my doctor, himself. He's about my height and lanky, balding and around 40. He also apparently has a whimsical sense of humor, he's got a gold watch, but on the watch face there was an image of Mickey Mouse. Call me insecure, but I had to wonder.

Apparently, they don't have permanent doctors on the medical staff. The office he was in was very spare, with no ornamentation. That would explain why my doctor only comes in on Thursdays.

We sat down, and he asked me my symptoms. As usual I tended not to be able to relate them well on-the-spot (I had been through this once when I was trying to get this appointment, so I figured that he wouldn't ask, thus I didn't "rehearse" in my mind). He looked over my file (apparently my description wasn't complete enough) and told me that he was going to prescribe Remeron, shipped me out of the office, and I waited for about five minutes to get my blood pressure taken.

After that, I talked to a nurse who went over my file, gave me the time on Monday morning to be in Alvin for blood work and set another appointment in a month and sent me to a services coordinator. After waiting a couple minutes I got to see her, too, we chatted a bit, and she hustled me out the door and away I went.

I felt like I'd just been through a whirlwind.


Now, though, I feel like a combination of being stoned and having a hangover. (Well, I've had the latter, I can only imagine the first.) I am here, but somewhat disconnected from my body. I'm not really tired, but for the life of me I just want to crawl into the bed and sleep for about four days. I have a headache bigger than Jupiter and while my mood is okay, I have all these side effects that are making me grumpy.

Maybe I'm getting the flu, like everybody else on the planet, or perhaps it's the fact that I felt a little groggy and dizzy when I got up (hey, just like everything I read said I would be) so I covered up, snuggled back in my chair in the living room and gorged down on jellybeans and mini-Twix bars while watching "The Thirteenth Floor". (I didn't really care for it; it could have been more compelling, but it wasn't as thoughtful or have nearly as much action as "The Matrix", even though the premises aren't entirely dissimilar. I guess now I need to see "ExistenZ" and compare it to the other two.)

Now Moogie is doing her regular "I have no fucking idea what I want to eat for dinner" routine. I told her nothing sounds good, so I don't really care what I want to eat. That's not one-hundred percent true, though, because there are textures I don't want. Taste won't matter, though.

But she's pissing me off. She won't back off and leave me alone.

She can't stick with anything. Even when we do decide (I finally told her let's just have corn dogs and tater tots in the freezer and get this over with, she comes down here and asks me if I would rather have what we had already decided or did I want this other thing.

I'm nearly to the point of telling her that they're going to be feeding at least one of us intravenously, because if she doesn't leave me alone one of us is going to be hurt soon.

I'm not functioning too well. I just read a news headline as "Russian Jets Bomb Southern California" rather than "Russian Jets Bomb Southern Chechnya". Small difference.

If these pills are going to do this to me, I'd rather be off them. Mental distress is so much easier to hide than the physical sort.

restlessmind


Ancient history:
2013-03-01"You'll be stone dead in a moment!"
2007-08-07I covet fuck you money
2007-07-16My own long, dark tea-time of the soul
2007-07-11My internet experience is lacking
2007-07-10Coincidence



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