On A Short Leash

Sheesh. Somebody PLEASE shoot me if I ever forget my meds again…….no wonder I was such a hot mess yesterday. I didn’t realize it until late last night when Will asked me, seemingly out of the blue, if I’d taken my pills that morning. Of course, my immediate reaction was “Why? Am I acting weird or something?” And of course, he knew perfectly well I hadn’t taken them because he monitors me at random times, and they were still sitting in the pill box in the downstairs bathroom at 10 PM.

Well, shit.

It doesn’t happen very often, although I have forgotten the morning meds on weekends several times in the past few weeks…..apparently my usual self-discipline leaves something to be desired on Saturdays and Sundays. I’m not sure why that is, but I’m going to have to figure it out because it is completely unacceptable to miss a dose at 7 AM and feel like all hell is breaking loose by lunchtime.

I suspect I’m forgetting because I’ve had to sleep in the recliner upstairs for three weeks due to the lingering effects of my bout with bronchitis, and the daytime pills live downstairs. It’s not a problem during the week because I HAVE to go down there each morning to pick out fresh clothes and do my little foo-foo things, but if I’m not going anywhere I tend to let myself go and not bother with the social graces of changing clothes or doing more than running a brush through my hair. Sometimes Will brings the pill box up to me and all is well, but it’s NOT his responsibility to remember them for me and if I forget, things are very likely to turn nasty on me.

It pisstifies me that this is so. (Pisstify = pissed + mystified.) It simply does not make sense to me that missing ONE tiny bit of antidepressant and ONE dose of mood stabilizer can play hell with my brain chemistry. Yet this morning I took them as usual and I’m fine. I don’t know why this illness keeps me on such a short leash, but it’s clear that it does and the only way to avoid the consequences of missing meds is to be 100% perfect in taking them.

That’s hard to do, even when one is as motivated to stay healthy (and is as well supervised) as I am. The best I’ve ever done was a three-month period where I never missed a single pill; not coincidentally, I was stable for much of that time. Obviously, as a medical professional, I know that the meds don’t work as well if they’re not taken regularly; as a patient, I don’t have ANY wiggle room and that befuddles me.

So now Will says he’s going back to reminding me every day and night, which is a setback for both of us because he didn’t have to for quite a while. But with spring coming on and all the unsettledness in my life, it’s a dangerous time for me to be erratic about medication. I’ve already had a few hiccups in recent weeks, so I REALLY need to get my shit together.

Thank you, Constant Reader, for coming along on this long strange trip of mine. That’s really what this blog is, a chronicle of my life with bipolar disorder, and I appreciate it that you listen when I’m actually preaching to myself, and offer your support at those times when I’m feeling lost. I may be on a short leash, but at least I have companionship on the journey. 🙂