Sick on sick on sick

An outside observer may be forgiven for thinking that I love spending time in hospital based on how often I do it.

You see, yesterday morning, after taking my bipolar medication and some Codral and Bisolvin for my killer cold I was suddenly doubled over with stomach pain. Soon after I started vomiting and couldn't stop. As I was lying on the bathroom floor feeling like I was going to die, it occurred to me that perhaps I was having a drug interaction so I called Nurse-on-Call. My nurse suggested I to straight to a GP. I went to a local clinic and saw a GP and she suggested I go straight to the Emergency Department at The Alfred Hospital as she wasn't sure what was wrong with me but couldn't rule out appendicitis. So, on to the ED at The Alfred where I was subjected to lots of prodding and poking and I answered lots of questions and was taken off for ultrasounds and as the day wore on I started to feel better but I was hooked up to an IV so I couldn't just leave and besides, I was hoping that somebody could tell me conclusively what had happened to me. Alas, 'twas not to be. I was discharged nearly 12 hours after arriving with a big, fat question mark over my diagnosis.

Somebody suggested that the reflux I get from taking lithium, combined with the amount of mucous I was swallowing and the codeine in the Codral had just created a bad reaction in my stomach and made me very sick. In case this is the case I'm steering clear of codeine, so if anyone wants some Codral, there's some going free at my house.

So, that's it, that's the mystery vomiting ailment that eclipsed my killer cold that eclipsed my bipolar disorder.

I'm really praying (to whom? Not sure) for a sickness free stretch of time now. I'll see out the end of this cold, but that's it, then I want no more. If the universe could be so good as to comply I would be greatly appreciative.

Sick on sick

This post should have been about how excited I am to return to work next week and how fortunate I am to really like my job. Or perhaps about how my psychiatrist and I are both optimistic, and can't see any reason not to be, that the ECT has really worked and I'll be well for a sustained period of time. Or even about how I bought new mascara and new underwear from Target then took myself to a movie the other day, and how it takes precious little for me to feel like I'm really treating myself. Or even Mother's Day, I'd post about Mother's Day.
But this post will not be about any of those things.
Because I have a cold.

These are the rules (well, my rules) when I have a cold; nothing else matters or exists except for the cold and all the shitty symptoms that come from it. So right now I really don't care about all the mothers who had breakfast in bed - I'm drowning in my own mucous. I cannot spare a thought for what going back to work will be like - my sinuses have expanded into my eye sockets. I'm not even really aware that I'm bipolar anymore - I just coughed up something that looks a lot like a pancreas.

Today I shouldn't have even bothered blogging, I should have used my computer for the sole useful purpose it has today; allowing me to watch Doctor Who in bed. Yep. That's what I'm going to be doing until further notice. I'll see you on the other side of this cold. (If I make it.)