Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Irony



I am sure you noticed there was no post yesterday, just as I am sure you were very concerned for my wellbeing and my posting inability. 




The story is (and believe me I feel like I’m 100 years old, discussing the deterioration of my body as I age) I have restless leg syndrome. Yep, leave it to me to get a diagnosis that most comedians regularly make fun of.  


Dennis Leary: Nausea, anal leakage, dysplasia, and temporary blindness are not just great name choices for late 80's heavy metal bands -- they are but a few of the little prices Americans are willing to pay each time they swallow a magic pill designed to help them lose weight, gain confidence, stop shaking or become the proud owners of medically-induced erections.



Dennis Leary:  This is the land where Restless Leg Syndrome is cured by a drug that can cause an uncontrollable urge to gamble. 



(That really is one of the side effects on the description sheet that comes from the pharmacy.)



Stress exacerbates it as does fatigue so I get in this cycle where I’m stressed (can’t imagine why) which makes my legs ache which makes for no sleep which increases the stress and fatigue.  A nice little feedback loop of doom. So for two days, zero hours of sleep while I pace around the house all night. (The puppies are initially concerned and follow but after an hour or so, they say, “Um mom, evidently we are going walking but we aren’t actually going to leave the house. Given those parameters, and the fact that there is nothing new to smell, you are on your own.” Then the traitors stretch out and are asleep in five minutes.)   


In addition, my lower back loves to remind me that I’m old, fat and consuming Diet Coke like a crazy person. So as I pace, my back protests. (See I’m on the quick track to 80.)


Anyway, yesterday afternoon I took my anti-restless leg, old person, meds thinking I would head things off before they got worse.  I guess after two days, my body said, “Sleep now!” and that was the end of it.




Side note (trust me it isn’t as tangential as you think.) My mom has terrible allergies that create some pretty spectacular rashes.  Her ex-husband is a Dermatologist.  My ex-husband is a back surgeon.  Oh the irony!


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