Withdrawal

I woke up Monday to a dreadful nightmare. The kind that you don't just wake up from, very real and I realized that I was no longer dreaming as I brushed my teeth. I can't explain the horror, except that I saw a murder. This was no easy dream to wake up from, for the rest of the day I was in sorrow. The images still fresh and as I type this now, I remember an arm and the blood, and of course the bathtub. This is where the basketcase part suits me. These dreams were frequent as a kid, and now not so much. I tried to talk about it but the words just wouldn't come out, I don't know that I can be completely honest with people when this happens. I knew the murderer and the murdered, very close to home and very disturbing. Can't say more, but the details are vivid.
I wrote my sandcastle poem to cope, that is what I do. I have many poems like that, people may deal in many ways, this is how I deal.
Back to Monday, I did get headaches and I did have anxiety issues. By lunchtime I remembered that I hadn't taken my Paxil, not since Friday or Saturday, I still don't know. I am not embarrassed to say I take this medication, I have been on them for about a year and have been doing great, handling anxiety and controlling panic attacks, I haven't had one in months. My Xanax should be taken 3 times a day, but I take it when I start to feel nervous and anxious, which is often, but rarely 3 times a day.
Usually the weekends come and go with the household drama and I forget to take anything. I check my purse and figure I left them at home. I call the doctor's office (yes, the hearing aid one) because I know I am well over due and discover that I haven't seen him since December and now he doesn't take my new insurance, they try to schedule me as a self pay, it's not an option for me. Nor is it a big deal to switch him, I showed up to his office, told him stories, he would squint trying to make out my words, then review his file and give me a script, the relationship was good, his understanding of me, not so much. I hang up and decide to wait till I get home.
They are not anywhere I can see in the house. I check under the beds for fear that mike d got a hold of them, completely pissed at myself for not remembering where I put them. They are usually on top of the microwave, way out of his reach. But I could have left them somewhere else, as difficult as the bottle is to open, I am sure that he used it as a rattle and probably hid them or threw them out in the trash. (My husbands wedding ring, has not been seen since last March, we think he may be behind this mystery too)
I shake, and tremble throughout the day Tuesday, not sure if I should just quit taking them, if you have ever had withdrawals you know what I am going through, pure hell. Headaches, sweating, the zaps in my head, slight vertigo, not too much.
Today I called the pharmacy, unable to take any more, I had nausea all morning, I had another nightmare, this one not so bad, I couldn't eat lunch (major problem) , there is no refill on file. SHIT! I called the PCP during lunch to find that the office is closed till 3pm for a meeting. (splendid idea doctor, fucking dandy)
I call the insurance company and explain my dilemma, I had to call the EAP (employee assistance program) line, they are really nice, they deal with crazies all the time, I am not always one, but right now borderline, I am sure they have been trained to handle situations like me. They ask me for a summary, I explain the lost medication, the lack of a doctor and the withdrawal symptoms, they ask "Do you feel like you may be harmful to yourself?" I think, the urge is always there, "No." "Do you feel like you be a harm to those around you?" They don't know my coworkers, "No." "Are you being abused or physically harmed?" I think of my family and the mental agony they put me through, not the pain they are referring to, "No."
If this is your career, and you do this everyday, shouldn't your little department brainstorm different ways to ask what they want to ask, for example, here I am withdrawing, ready to jump out of my skin, unable to calm down and finding myself breathing deeply throughout the day to catch the anxiety and avoid another embarrassing moment at work (one of the last attacks happened in a meeting, thank you Nikke for bringing me back to reality that day) wouldn't it be better to ask, "With how you're feeling, when you are at your worst, if your mother tells you that you don't know how to wash dishes, how would you react?" or "With how you are feeling, if someone cuts you off, do you think you may run them over?" or "With your anxiety in full gear now, we need to know if you have children, and how do they behave?", asking me these types of questions, catching me off guard and noticing the silence at the end of the line, knowing I am wondering how to respond, they would probably get me seen right away. They really need to screen the calls better, who answers yes to those questions, it's embarrassing. She asks for my address and emails me a list of doctors. Not the chatty Cathy that is getting anywhere with me.
The doctors were a disaster, one only takes children, one only works with the elderly in skilled nursing facilities, two didn't take new clients, six of them weren't able to see me until August or early September, and I left messages for about ten.
The you-must-be-fucking-joking mode is on now. I go about my business and at a quarter to five, get a call back, an appointment for July 7, winner, winner, chicken dinner.
I get home and pop a Xany, they are really good to me, I google the withdrawal symptoms, insomina no, vivid dreams check, confusion during waking hours check, feeling of existing out of reality check, memory and concentration issues check, panic attacks not yet, mood swings no, dizziness and vertigo check, feelings of shock (the zaps) check check check, gosh, I think I am batting a thousand.
I go to a wake and have to leave early, this is too much for me to handle now.
Home is home, mike d hasn't napped and is screaming from being so tired, but he won't fall asleep, I walk away and ignore him, I lie down, my menstral disease is also here, I am ready to just pass out and not wake up till mike d is in school, but the chances are slim.
There is no solution to this problem, I could've avoided this by many things, keeping my meds in one place, keeping my appointments, not sure what else.
I scramble the house searching, and remember my beloved husband's ambien orgy with the food, he took his pill, it was on the fridge. I get a chair, lift my self up, praying I don't fall and end up driving myself to the ER with a broken bone, the chair is like a bar stool, and I am pretty heavy. I look at all the paperwork, a mess that I refuse to deal with now, and I found my Paxil. God the past couple of days has been pretty tough, and now I just need to hold myself together for 10 hours to have the dosage back in my system and me back to being somewhat normal.
I now just wait for mike d to get picked up, to bathe Diego, get his lunch ready, fold laundry and I can sleep, and wake up tommorrow (although sometimes I wish I wouldn't) for another day of being me. Good night everyone, please take care of yourselves. Love me.
And to all of those that I have ignored or snapped at, or if you have found me unquestionably annoying and paranoid in my fear and hopelessness, you know who you are, I hope you now understand and forgive me.