It’s Saturday night and I’m in my customary spot on the sofa with my poor outraged left ankle encased in a walking boot, and surrounded by little dogs who seem content to be close but not ON me. I have Live PD on the television, fresh ice water on the end table, a Butterfingers bar, and much less pain than I was in 24 hours ago. It had gotten so bad that I could hardly bear weight on it anyway, and then I somehow stepped down on it wrong yesterday morning and almost went to ground. After calling my NP, who told me he wasn’t going to prescribe pain medication because I’m on Klonopin (like I take it every night, haha), I decided I’d had enough waiting around for this to get better on its own and went to the local urgent care center. I didn’t get pain meds there either, but I wasn’t looking for them. What I wanted was a good strong brace, and that’s what I got.
I also bought the large economy size bottle of Aleve, which I’d forgotten works a lot better for me than Advil and Tylenol, and started that this morning. Now I can walk a little without holding back screams or wondering if this is the time when I roll the ankle again and fall hard. The boot is a two-piece affair held together with lots of Velcro straps in a sassy black shade, and I think it weighs at least half as much as I do. I’m not sure I know how to put it all back together again when I take a shower and have to remove it, but like everything else, I guess I’ll figure it out.
In the meantime, autumn has definitely arrived. It’s been wet and blustery with occasional sunny days that are absolutely spectacular. The trees are changing to beautiful hues of red and yellow and orange; the nights are cool and make it necessary for me to snuggle under the electric blanket; the dogs are growing out their winter coats. (They are very thick. Makes me wonder what kind of winter we’re in for.) And I’m struck by how early it’s getting dark now…my least favorite thing about fall.
It’s this last that makes me feel like I’m backsliding. I’m not depressed—yet—but I can see it from here. We didn’t really have much of a summer, and I feel cheated; as you know, I live for summer all year round and we just didn’t get enough of it this year. It was as apt to be in the 60s and raining as it was to be warm and sunny. So now that my favorite season is gone and my second-favorite has taken over, I look at the leaves and wish I didn’t dread the upcoming winter months. The only things that get me through November, December and January are football, pumpkin spice everything, my birthday and hanging out around the pellet stove. (February, on the other hand, has NO redeeming qualities.)
Now, I try not to let the doom and gloom get me down. There are plenty of things to like about the cooler months; I just can’t think of many. But it’s very hard to avoid seasonal depression when I hate half the year!
I check my weather reports from all the places where family and friends live. It’s 80 in Pensacola, where my oldest daughter and her family are; it’s 81 in Dallas where we plan to move one day. Places where it’s winter for about five minutes in the middle of January. I bet I wouldn’t get depressed down there, at least not because of the weather. Then again, it’s the loss of light early in the evenings that really throws me for a loop, and that happens everywhere.
I’m not sure what exactly can be done about that. I should be using my HappyLight, even though it’s not dark in the mornings yet (well, by the time I poke my nose out of my room there’s plenty of light), but that only helps minimally. That leaves medicine, and I’m already taking a lot of stuff. My son happened upon my medication list today and said “Holy CRAP, Mom, you’re on a lot of meds!” And that was just the psych meds—he should see the rest of it. Four blood pressure meds, an inhaler, vitamin D, and aspirin. Not to mention all the OTC pain remedies!
Anyway, that’s what I’m up to these days. I hope this fall and winter won’t be too hard on me, because it’s a loooooooong time till spring. I know that if I start sliding downhill I’ve got Dr. Goodenough to help me sort things out, plus family and friends who can see it’s happening sooner than I can. This month marks five years from the last severe depression I had which landed me in the hospital, and I’m happy to say that I’ve never been anywhere near that bad since then. Even now when I could easily slip into a low, I know that my brain is trying to lie to me, and I’m much quicker to recognize that than I used to be.
It’s all good.