Forgive the infrequent posting.
Crap technology continues alongside busy weeks, jumbled thoughts and a lack of faith that these words mean anything anyway.
I ran out of Seroquel last Friday. There was a box I thought was full, it turned out to only be half full so my supply ran out and I didn't have a prescription. No matter, I had an appointment on Tuesday with my psychiatrist, it would just be a few missed doses. 3 in fact. 3. I took one Friday night so it was just getting through Saturday to Monday.
Predictably it was a bit harder to get off to sleep but I managed alright. I have an audiobook of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland read by a narrator named Peter Yearsley and there's a soporific quality to his voice which when combined with the dreamlike words of Lewis Carroll acts in a manner I find far more effective than Temazepam. So I got through. Although there was this big party on Saturday night so I didn't get a great night of sleep then. But no matter, I was fine and Tuesday came and I got my prescription and my drugs and all was to be righted in the world.
Tuesday night I took my normal dose of Seroquel and went off to bed. I was staying with my parents (another story) and my Mum came in to wake me around half past 9. Dragging myself out of bed felt like dragging myself out of my own skin it was so painful. I spent the morning in a stupor, my body weighed down with the weight of the most overwhelming fatigue. After lunch I couldn't take it anymore and went to lie down for a quick nap. I was woken six hours later.
Wednesday night I dutifully took my Seroquel again, shrugging off the day and thinking to myself that it must have just been a temporary readjustment to my brain chemistry but that Thursday would be better. Thursday I wrenched myself from bed around 10 and came home from my parents house and rather than doing laundry or going to the gym or attending German class I dozed in my bed, occasionally getting up to wander dumbly around the house wondering at what it was I was supposed to be doing.
Friday morning I was due in at work at 8.45am. I knew there was no chance I could risk being in a Seroquel haze so I didn't take it Thursday night. I woke up before my alarm on Friday and made it through the day clear headed. That was until the work Christmas party when my head did get a little cloudy and yes it was a bit of a later night than I had anticipated and when I got home and held the Seroquel tablet in my hand and thought about how I had to be in at work again today it just seemed like too great a risk so I tossed it into my pill box.
This morning, despite the still cloudy head and the late-ish night, I was awake by 8am. I wasn't due in at work until the afternoon so I spent the morning catching up on laundry and puzzling over why I was feeling so fractious and hungry and overwhelmed. Fatigue. Of course. Without the Seroquel and with a social life I don't sleep enough so I am fatigued. With the Seroquel I have the chemically induced paralysing fatigue.
I know eventually my body adjusts to the Seroquel and then even though I still sleep too much and spend my mornings staring into space I somehow accommodate it and muddle through. But right now I'm just so tired. And I'm so aware of how tired I am and I'm also so acutely aware of how rapidly my mental state starts to unravel just because I get tired.
I should have gone to bed already tonight.
So it's 1am now. I have things to do tomorrow so I can't risk another day of dozing or afford a six hour nap. No Seroquel it is.
