I guess it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I am positively allergic to stress. Of any kind. Even the “good” kind of stress (which I haven’t had much of lately) can send me into orbit and kick off a mood episode. I’m sitting here typing and the “Pina Colada” song is on, and that brings back memories of when being stressed out consisted of not having enough money to go out cruising and clubbing. How I wish I had that kind of stress now!
Something’s up, I can’t quite put a finger on it but I think my current situation is really starting to get to me. I’ve forgotten my morning meds once this week, and almost did it a second time today but remembered in the early afternoon and took them. I also can’t figure out for the life of me what day of the week it is, and I was shocked when I got a call from Dr. Awesomesauce’s office reminding me of my appointment on Monday. I’d plumb forgotten all about it, thinking it was for the following Monday.
Good thing they called, or I’d have been charged for the missed appointment and Dr. A would be worried. I’ve never missed a session in all the time I’ve been seeing him, and I don’t aim to start now. But it concerns me that I forgot it at all, because those appointments are my lifeline to sanity and there’s some stuff on my mind that I need to talk to him about. Even when he doesn’t have all the answers, it helps to be able to unload without judgment.
As I expected, I didn’t get the job I interviewed for a couple of weeks ago. It’s just as well. I’d more than likely have come apart at the seams if I had gotten it and then crashed and burned again. I’m not sure how many more of those I’ve got left in me, at least where work is concerned. But the stress of NOT working (and making money) is also bad, and while it’s not the end of the world as I know it, I can see it from here and it’s not a pretty picture.
Will’s ongoing issues with getting his Coumadin numbers up to a therapeutic level also worry me. He’s almost there, but I’ve got to give him shots for another four days along with high doses of his pills, and I’m half afraid the numbers will end up going too high, putting him at risk for all sorts of bleeding problems. I keep reminding him to watch for signs of internal bleeding and monitoring his skin for new areas of bruising. It’s just another thing I can manage to an extent, but don’t have any real control over. I’ve taken care of patients whose numbers were so high I was afraid even to breathe on them, lest I cause them to bleed.
Naturally, I don’t want that to happen to Will, but the specter of the blood clots in his lungs also looms large. Ten years ago when I was working in the hospital, a patient in such a condition would be put on bed rest and set up with a heparin IV drip; nowadays, they let people walk around and have their nurse-wives give them injections that make their bellies sore and give rise to bruises of amazing colors and sizes.
Meh….now I’ve got that silly “Pina Colada” song stuck in my head. Maybe I should make myself a (virgin) Pina Colada and pretend I’m at the beach, chilling out with some Jimmy Buffett on the stereo and searching for my last shaker of salt. Except salt doesn’t go with Pina Coladas. What the hell, maybe I’ll top it off with an Ativan chaser. Now THERE’S some stress relief!