Last night I had a horrible night’s sleep. At 4 in the morning, I woke up and when I entered the bathroom it was as if everything was made out of patterned paper. All the white walls looked like they were made of crushed eggshells.
I felt a little loopy but chalked that up to waking up at 4 am. When I got back into bed, that’s when the real fun began. I started hearing voices. Bunches of voices. Some were whispers. Some were just noises, like clanking and knocking. So many things to hear; and they were all making noises at once.
I tried to calm down and make them go away. Or push them aside, as Kent would say. Yeah. Didn’t work. Then, I turned on the fan next to the bed thinking that maybe the real problem was that it was just “too” quiet. Nope.
Now, I was completely freaking out. I went down the hall and woke up Tom, who had been sleeping on the futon since my surgery to give me room (we have a double bed. hello?). All I had to say was, “Tom, I need you,” and he was up an on his feet. (Thank you, US ARMY) Then I started weeping, telling him about the voices, and he put his arm around me and got me back to bed.
I told him I was afraid that I was having trouble weaning off the Percocet, and that this was a symptom. I also told him I was in pain, though. When he found out that the last pill I took was at 10, he assured me it would be okay to take it again. Then, he laid next to me, put his arm around me, and we both went to sleep.
I woke up 8 minutes later with some new voices. I was able to push them away, though, and held on tight to Tom.
This morning, I wake myself up by screaming. Isn’t that the way everyone wants to start their day? I have no idea what was happening, but I do remember screaming in my dream.
I came downstairs to take my morning medicine, and still didn’t feel quite right. After I looked at my weekly pill dispenser, I realized that my evening Cymbalta was still there from yesterday. Crap.
I don’t know what to think about this. Pollyanna would look at this and say, “Well, at least you know that the drug you are taking makes a difference.” But, the other side of me asks, “Do I want to be on something this powerful that my whole life goes nuts when I miss one dose?” Or, is it just acting this way because of the Percocet? When I looked up side effects of Cymbalta, they never cover the side effects of missing a dose. Just regular side effects and the effects an overdose might have. My symptoms (which also included a heavy chest, fast heart rate, and sweating) are ones that people see who are trying to wean off Cymbalta. That scares me just a tad. Ok, more than a tad.
Tonight as I go to bed, for what I hope will be a non-eventful evening, I will also be praying for wisdom. I don’t plan to make any changes in anything right away. My body’s got a lot going on. I have been pretty good at listening to it. And right now, it is saying, “Girl, don’t you even think about messin’ with me again!” This is one voice I’m hearing loud and clear.