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Still slamming my way through April, which started with a fairly sleepless nearly two-week hypomanic episode. If I were getting the recommended 8 hours of sleep a night this month, I'd have racked up 184 hours by now. If I were at least pulling off a good 6 hours a night all month, I'd have 138 under my belt. But I've been averaging less than 5 hours a day/night total since April 1st, which only gets me up between 92-115, leaving me dangling for 3 1/2 weeks now at only half the sleep I should be getting. I have a 6 month follow up with my psychiatrist next week, and the first words out of his mouth are going to be- Have you been sleeping? You know, like, if he doesn't notice first that I've gone night walker on him.
I'm the kind of person who skips hives and goes straight to swelling mouth and airway out of the blue, and I'm getting so used to it that I just start chunking down whatever backup I've got on me, which is a mini pharmacy because I'm trying to avoid epipen like the plague, while I drop everything and drive to the nearest clinic. I usually get dexa-medrol and benadryl shots plus a phenergan push on top of a handful of pills they hand me, then I have to sit there for a couple of hours making sure the reaction is stopping (many times up to 5-6 hours), then start a week of prednisone from the pharmacy and round the clock super dosing on a variety of histamine blockers. Last time I did this I wound up doing two rescues and 17 days of pred, so you know this time I didn't hesitate to toss all that stuff and some leftover prednisone in my mouth before I ever got to clinic and was on it so fast that I got to skip the shots this time, yay!
But all it took yesterday was one pain pill to release another flood of histamines from my mast cells, and hey, let's rock another big load of everything because there goes my tongue and lip puffing up again, yes, even though I'm already going full med blast trying to control histamine breakout. You know why people wind up getting punctures for airway? Because once your throat closes up they can't get airway in and have to punch a hole just so you can breathe. Yeah, kinda wanna avoid that level of freaking out.
On the other hand, I've managed to get another 8000 words tacked down kind of the way I want them yesterday. Super OCD mode. Plus you know me, cleaning bathrooms and stripping the bed and cooking ahead and freezing back because I'm bouncing around like a cat that got trapped in an espresso machine. Oh, look, it's way before 2 a.m.
There is some really cool evil eye stuff out there.
You can imagine the fun I'm having in my head. It's like the old days all over again. Without the narcotics. Or the muscle relaxers. Or the antidepressants. All with which, including benzos, I slept only 2 hours a night off and on for years.
And such is my Pinky superpower.
