Ninety three weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 238
Up a pound (*thunderous applause, victory lap*).
After eight days of Lexapro, I had a follow up appointment with the doctor and she doubled the dosage since it wasn’t causing migraines or nausea. This was always the plan apparently and it’s an excellent opportunity for me to remind any doctors who might be reading this to clue your patients in on what the fucking plan is. Some of the patients you prescribe mood-altering drugs to might be neurotic.
…
But anyway, at double dosage, still no headaches or vomit, so huzzah. Still no zen-like peace of mind either (I’m aware the pills don’t actually do that), but I guess it takes a few weeks for them to kick in. Waiting. Patiently.
SO PATIENTLY
Anyway, it’s kind of a slow week, but I’m still not writing this until Friday because I’ve now apparently gotten out of the habit of needing to write these on Wednesdays. I’d like to get that habit back. On the other hand, I’ve almost got my Fire/Fire Brute slotted with her T4 incarnate power, so that’s something. She’s actually turning out to be a better farmer than my fully slotted out Spines/Fire Brute, which…who would’ve thought?
I’m willing to bet dinner that literally no one reading this understands what I just wrote. Oh hey! Three things I’m grateful for:
- Sleep. When I can fucking get it. I’ve been up since 2am, which translates to about 4 hours sleep…little less maybe. Every blue moon I have searing foot pain that feels like someone putting out a cigarette on the top of my foot. It’s nerve damage from doing my level best to destroy my feet by burdening them with close to 500 pounds for several decades. It’s also permanent it seems. At least it’s every blue moon. Bleah.
- This year’s taxes. I was expecting to pay twice what I actually owe this year. I have NO fucking clue what happened, and I’m NOT fucking asking. Maybe there was a coupon?
- Sushi with my niece. As in dinner. As in tomorrow. Indoors. At a restaurant. I feel like I’m 12 years old and it’s the day before I’m going to Disneyland.
I’m pretty good this week. I had a less-than-stellar moment of road rage on a lunatic Karen the other day, but I was driving home from the dentist where they did their best to extract every secret I possess, so I was already in kind of a shit mood as it was. Still, not very zen-like or peaceful of me.
Here, have a graphic:
