|Ah... here's some deep nostalgia. I'm the one in the blue dress.|
I'm no longer all excited about it.
I thought that by 20 treatments, there would be improvement. It turns out that I'm only expected to start feeling real improvement at 40 treatments.
Not so much fun when you go to the doctor and he asks you how you're feeling and you respond "lousy" and he says "oh, good."
I had a dizzy spell in the chamber one day, but I suspect it may have just been exhaustion. My blood pressure wasn't low, and I certainly don't have low blood sugar. The doctor -one I hadn't met before - a young guy with tattoos- looked me over and said to let him know if it happens again.
My pain levels have been through the roof this week. Up until I started the treatment, I was using tramadex 200 OD (means it lasts 24 hours at a time) and that was pretty much handling the pain. Now I'm taking an extra 50 every night - night is the worst time pain-wise - and adding ibuprofen (600) or 1000mg optalgin (if you're in the US, it's banned there because some people respond badly to it, but it's another NSAID) at least once a day, and frequently twice. I spoke to my psychiatrist (who doesn't have one of those?) and she prescribed ritalin to help me stay awake - it's not ideal, but it's better than falling asleep on the road, right?
My memory has been spitting out random nonsense, which is kind of fun. I was told that I may recover lost traumatic memories. So far, I've recovered memories, but nothing traumatic. Actually, the opposite. Some have been happy memories. I'm wondering if part of my "trauma" was saying goodbye to good memories. Realizing that I will never have a particular moment again sometimes hurts so much it makes me cry.
I felt that way when I left our last apartment. We moved a few blocks away into a bigger apartment in a better location with a garden. It should have been a 100% positive move, and yet, saying goodbye to the apartment that I brought my first two babies home to, the apartment where those babies learned to crawl and walk, the apartment that my husband and I came home to the very first night we were husband and wife - it was hard to leave, even if it's to bigger and better things. Saying goodbye has always been very hard for me, even to things.
In other news, my baby (#3) had a fever today, so my husband, baby, and I had a romantic date at Terem (urgent care), where they tortured her with a catheter. It was pretty awful, and I'm glad I wasn't in the room, because her crying made me sweat and cry from a good distance away. When the doctor tried to explain something to me later, the blood drained from my face. I doubt I would have passed out - I've never passed out, but I was about as close as I get to that.
At least the preliminary results seem to be ok. She has a rare kidney condition which may make her more susceptible to kidney and other urinary tract infections, so if she has a fever, we have to check that right away. My recommendation - don't have kidney conditions. (yes, that's supposed to be sort of funny).
And again, it's late (nearly 3am) and I'm at the computer instead of in my bed, so I'll sign off.