I was asleep earlier tonight, but my brain rebooted and I've been up for three hours. I'm now waiting for the Ativan to kick in.
Today (Tuesday) was the shrink visit I referred to in last week's post. I adore my psychiatrist--he is beyond supportive. We decided on option B: discontinuing anti-depressants for a while, and having a look at my life with a clear head... without the Celexa cancelling out the noise. I think I need to hear the noise.
And yes, I was truthful about my Skylab-falling-on-head fantasies.
So I'm tapering off the dosage and should be SSRI-free by the end of March.
I was in the hospital again on Monday, with a swollen left hand and a low-grade fever. My grouchy cat had taken a swipe at me a few days earlier and apparently infected my hand. It had become extremely sore, and I couldn't close my hand, make a fist, or type. Goddamned cat. I'm on amoxicillin + clavulanic acid for two weeks. Five pills later and the swelling is almost gone.
A note to my brother: yes, Nuge's song "Cat Scratch Fever" is about pussy and the clap. But there really is such a thing as cat scratch fever. I don't have it, since my scratch site didn't have "pustules" (gross). But in the opening lyrics to the song, Nuge sings about getting it when he was 10 years old.
Oh, wait. He might have been talking about snatch at that point, too.