Saturday, October 17, 2009

Dazed and confused

posted Tue, 12 Oct 2004

When I was in grad school, I wrote a column for the B-school paper called "Ask Miss Management." (As I had to explain to more than one person, it wasn't "Ms" Management because the pun didn't work that way.) Anyhow, this guy I dated for a while -- big mistake but that's another story -- was one of the editors of the paper and told me in a mistaken moment of sharing that he and the other editor would laugh at my self-indulgence in the column.

Isn't that one of the main reasons to write? To gaze at one's navel? Or is it naval? Bellybutton. To gaze at one's bellybutton?

Friends -- friends! -- have suggested I work in corporate communications or in journalism. As if I actually wanted to write about factual things. Or put spin on the latest round of layoffs. "Despite the fact that the CEO got a $374,000 raise and an $878,000 bonus and despite the new corporate jet and despite the 23% raises for the other four most-highly paid execs of the corporation, we are sadly forced to delay all raises for the rest of you for three months and then limit them to 1.7%. And we will be laying off those folks who make $17,000 a year. You know, the ones who actually talk to the customers and keep the business running. So sorry. :)"

Please. I want to write about what I think. I want to whine, to moan, to complain, to kvetch, to rant, and to rave. That is the beauty of the blog. I have freedom of write, you have freedom of read.

That said, I am going to write about how I feel today.

I feel yucky.

I usually don't take pharmaceutical advice from the swimmer in the next lane at the JCC pool at 6:09 a.m., but I heard this guy -- let's call him Theodore -- was a pharmacist. His name may be Theodore, it may not. I have no idea. I have been swimming at the JCC for almost five years. In that time, I have exchanged maybe ten words with Theodore. He may give me a nod of greeting every now and then. A few years ago, I saw him at Annunciation Orthodox's Greek Festival and he smiled at me when we recognized each other out of context and in clothes.

Two years ago, when the swim team from Hutchison girls' school invaded the JCC pool and took half the lanes for the first time, after I hunted down the pool director and got the awful news that these horrible girls would be at the pool every Friday for three months, I tapped Theodore on the shoulder as he was turning at the end of the lane -- we were forced to share a lane, even though Theodore is very much a not-share-a-lane person -- and yelled the news to him quickly. After barking to me, "Don't interrupt me while I'm swimming," he swam five strokes, stopped, stood, looked back, and said in horror, "three months?" then continued swimming.

Those are the only words we have ever exchanged. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, as we each sat on the edge of the pool, adjusting our goggles, I asked if it was true that he was a pharmacist. Yes, maybe-Theodore said, he was.

What is the next option if topamax does not work? I asked.

He asked what dosage I was taking. I told him -- 25 mg -- and he suggested I increase to 50 mg. "Call your doctor and ask him," he said.

So I did. And doc said OK. So I did.

The only side effect I noticed with the 25 mg dose was that I was sleepy and that I felt full.

With the 50 mg, I was really sleepy.

But NOT full! I woke up HUNGRY in the middle of the night! This is not good. Not good at all. The whole plan is to take about 20 pounds of this drug and then enjoy gaining five of it back.

Another weird effect of it is that I can feel the blood moving around in my veins. Whooshing. Yep. I feel it swirling through my toes. I don't hear it in my head. Yet. But I feel it in my feet. It is very odd.

I also think it is making me a bit stupid. I have not quite been myself at work today.

I will give it a few days. If I have nothing but weird side effects and still get headaches, I will have to take action.

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