Chocohol

So because I’m lazy and stubborn and don’t like to admit that I need medication to be a functioning human person, I let my medications run out.  I’m not talking about the anxiety medications that I’m not sure are exactly doing shit.  I’m talking about the heavy medication that stops me from, for example, thinking there’s a three-piece string quartet living in my walls playing the same four bars of Amazing Grace over and over again in order to torment me. 

Luckily there weren’t any consequences for my perilous game except that my mood slipped a bit.  Well I guess the main consequence was that when I got them filled and had my first dose I slept until 7pm. 

Last time I was on the heaviest of my current medications, I remember it being especially hard to get out of bed, but I don’t remember pulling 19 hours. 

I also remember gaining weight but I don’t remember having the mother of all sweet teeth (tooths?).  

Oh, but it’s not just a sweet tooth.  

I need chocolate.  I need chocolate now.

I realize that this blog is pretty much an open book into my private goings-on but even I have enough pride not to divulge the number of times I made the walk of shame over to my building’s vending machine and walked away $1.25 poorer.  Alright alright, sometimes $2.50 poorer. 

The shame.

I’m hoping I’m just adapting to it and that this problem with subside with time.  Otherwise, I may gain back all the weight I lost.

It’s not looking good.  No energy and a sweet tooth do not a healthy BMI make.

On the plus side, Dr. G spoke with the powers-at-be over at Chocohol (which is henceforth the name of the heavy medication) headquarters, and I don’t have to have weekly blood tests usually required when starting up this medication.  I was only awarded this courtesy because I’ve been on it before and because Dr. G is a hellcat from Brooklyn.

Pdoc love.