I’ll be going to see my primary care doc in the morning to get my blood lithium levels checked for the first time. I have an entire list of questions and concerns for him. It’s a good thing I’ve got the best doctor this side of the state. When the man walks in the exam room, he’ll look me in the eye and shake my hand. Then, unlike most doctors who’ll thumb through a chart and communicate in grunts and whistles, he sits down in a chair across from me and just listens. Every. Fucking. Time. Even if I’ve just got a head cold. Bad ass! Not the typical rushed feeling I would so often get with every other doctor on earth.
As far as my lithium dose goes, I’m only taking half of what the psychiatrist prescribed me right now. For a couple reasons. One: He told me to my face he was doubling my dose, but when I was discharged I realized he’d actually quadrupled it. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a mistake, but there’s still that nagging suspicion.
When it comes to lithium, the therapeutic and lethal dose are so close they may as well be fucking. Probably are. Which constitutes reason number two: plain old paranoia. If my blood work comes back and everything looks good, I’ll take the 600 milligrams per day that Mr. Psychiatrist put me on.
Considering all that, I thought it a decent idea that, for the first time today, I go ahead and take all 600 mg. Three hundred in the morning, same in the evening. That way we’ll know tomorrow where my blood level sits in relation to the dose the psychiatrist wanted me on.
So I took the second dose around seven. Felt that shit kick in. Now I’m more wide awake than I was when fresh out of bed this morning. Medication sure as hell isn’t going to knock me out tonight. Not yet anyway.
The thought of sleeping feels about as unnatural as the thought of laughing did to me only a week ago. I’ll be talking to the doctor about that too, although I don’t know what good it will do. Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve had trouble sleeping for a few years and have tried damn near everything already to remedy the problem.
Just did a quick read back over that last paragraph and right at the end, I started feeling a little sleepy. Haha. I suppose I did take my bedtime nighty-night sweet-dream medications about half an hour ago.
Not to say that feeling sleepy means I’ll be able to fall asleep.
Time to start taking bets! Where’s my money going? No fucking clue! Are you crazy?! It’s much too late to be worrying about money. After all, I’m the bookie.
— A Dreamer