About Me

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Ten years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Retired, and mostly enjoying it. Still knitting. [Zen]tangling.again after a brief hiatus.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

I'll take Lexapro for about $7, Alex

My incredibly sore, icky toe is not athlete's foot, but a bacterial infection, and I have an antibiotic, plus industrial strength myconazole just in case, and I'm starting a low dose combined anti-anxiety, antidepressant medicine. When I went for my quarterly bloodwork in May, my doctor's associate said that a lot of the symptoms I have could also be signs of depression, and did I think it was a possibility?

At the time, I did not, but lately I've been thinking maybe, yeah? Not the deep, debilitating crashes of my PTSD days. More like an amoebic, noncommittal meh. And a growing tendency to snark. I have felt increasingly crabby with SemperFi, who has a newly engaged daughter and is just the teensiest bit harried.

I do remember those days.

Today, after my doctor examined my poor foot, she asked how I felt. And I told her, I feel sad. I am sick. I am tired. And I am more than a little sick and tired. She said that in the past when she's asked, I've talked about my projects, and that maybe I have been distracting myself.

Well, there is that. And the fact that I've regained 30 of the 40 pounds I lost two years ago when I was first diagnosed with diabetes.

Middlest looked at my ankles last weekend, held a hand over them, and said, "I think a lot of this is buried feelings, and I think a lot of it is your kids." I have wondered since then, if I have been stuffing my frustrations as far away from my heart as I can get them, without their actually leaving my body? Because my blood pressure is stellar, even if my attitude is not exactly.

I'm mostly packed for my trip. I fly to my sister's tomorrow, and I'm excited about that. Fourthborn is staying here with Middlest, and the two of them will (I hope) present me with a wonderfully reorganized studio upon my return. And a vanquished Mt. Shredmore.

As for me, there will be knitting, and the family reunion in Oregon with my brother-in-law and niece and all those nice cousins that my sister and I met last year.

I need to figure out my travel knitting. I have not a clue. I have sharp poky projects that will not make it through security. The idea of not-knitting makes me want to weep. Weeping would probably be good for me. Homicide, not so much.

I suspect the load of laundry for which I am responsible is ready to go into the wash. Maybe then I can sleep. I am wound tighter than a tick. Mostly from sweet excitement. I love to fly. I love my sister. (I love my kids, and I'm looking forward to missing them.)

Life is still good. A little more weird than usual, but good. Later, gators.

1 comment:

ruthsplace said...

For future reference, I've never had any problems flying with knitting needles in the USA and that included size zero metal dpns on a sock.

I hope the medication helps the emotions to balance out for you.