Progress and Outness
I have been remiss in reporting progress on Cymbalta, but things have certainly been happening. I'll try and record as much of that as possible, and maybe write about my trip to the Big Bad City today. (Apologies for the lack of linear coherence in this post - I'm not feeling quite *that* well yet.)
The first few days were the expected writeoff in terms of a cluster of mostly minor side effects: wooziness mostly, nausea (blerg), sleepiness (curses), horrible taste, some digestive discomforts of various kinds, sore ears, some extra clumsiness, and growing depression.
The depression was hard to track because I was feeling pretty damned awful when I started this new drug; in a roundabout way it's *why* I started this new drug. In its absolute favour it is making a big difference in controlling the pain, which was the prime intent. At first it seemed to be just a distraction - I still felt the pain but it didn't bother me as much. That's not a great deal of help in regaining mobility. It's nice, but not ideal. But now I think the pain relief feels a bit more real.
Yay! But I get ahead of myself.
A couple of days ago (Tuesday) was the low point, and to celebrate I spent most of it asleep in bed. Unusually for me I felt specifically and thoroughly unmotivated, and I wasn't up to the task of fighting it. I gave up. That really doesn't happen often at all. The cats rejoiced. That happens a lot. That day I was tempted to drop the trial but instead decided to revert back to the starting dose the next day and give it another chance.
Dosage has been a bit approximate: I was advised to open a 60mg capsule and start at 10% (6mg) and increase slowly (if I could) up to 50% (30mg) daily. I finished my first capsule after 6 days, at an average of 10mg per day so I reckon I wasn't too far off.
So Wednesday I took the dose down a smidgen of something in the region of 10mg. On Tuesday I'd tried really *really* hard to do work and failed miserably, so after taking the smaller dose I hit the work stuff hard straight away to see if I could sneak some in under the radar before the drug hit. And it worked! I was able to do 1 1/2 hours in the course of the morning before things went awry. But I was much heartened.
But wait! There was more! One of my goals before the trip to Adelaide/Melbourne next month was to replace my boots. Something flat, comfortable, and for preference not black. So yesterday I went to the local expensive-but-high-quality shoe shop I go to for new shoes every few years. That's right: every few years. I don't like shopping for shoes, but I like looking at their catalogue.
Things had changed somewhat since I was last there: there were no longer any prices on display. Ah. I had hoped to find something around $250, which is a lot, but worth it for the time they last. No such luck - the only pairs remotely suitable from the remaining stock were $350. *wince* (but red!...) I passed, but I did have some fun looking at all the exotic gourmet food shops at the centre, and picked up some truffle salt, which was on sale even.
So yay, Wednesday was a triumph. I wore pants. Last night I allowed myself some sleeping meds to catch up, so Thursday morning was a bit slower, and the brain was swimming again. The big goal was a Wildilocks appointment in town in the mid afternoon. Husband was able to give me a lift to the train station so I caught an eerily empty 6 car train into town, in contrast to the achingly full 4 car train on the way home during peak hour. I went stickless, so couldnt get a seat but survived reasonably well.
Did a spot of window shopping before and after the hair appointment (I am repurpled and trimmed now). I looked at camera gear and hunted down the oldest person in the shop to talk to. I looked for boots. I looked at much remnant stock and cursed all the heels and the seasonable bullshit that makes August a bad time to buy boots. Found a mother lode of cheap flat boots at a discount shoe shop, but they were *too* cheap and looked wildly uncomfortable. Was tempted and went so far as to try on some ankle high sandshoes covered in GOLD GLITTER(!!!) but common sense prevailed and I left them there. Another high point was asking the shop staff what time it was, then followed up with asking what year it was. I didn't quite manage to finish with "Woohoo! It worked!" but it still felt good, and they seemed amused rather than concerned.
Common sense of the don't-buy-those-shoes variety must be very tiring for I ran out of spoons quite abruptly. Made it to the station and squeezed onto a train. *Stupidly* did grocery shopping on the way home. But now I feel a bit recovered even from that, so it's very promising.
So, if this new level keeps up I'll be able to do more exercise without the punishing pain, which will help with the depression and everything else. Sleep is still an issue. Cymbalta seems to be known for side effects at first, but they don't last so maybe I've pushed past that phase and can now enjoy the benefits. I hope so.
The first few days were the expected writeoff in terms of a cluster of mostly minor side effects: wooziness mostly, nausea (blerg), sleepiness (curses), horrible taste, some digestive discomforts of various kinds, sore ears, some extra clumsiness, and growing depression.
The depression was hard to track because I was feeling pretty damned awful when I started this new drug; in a roundabout way it's *why* I started this new drug. In its absolute favour it is making a big difference in controlling the pain, which was the prime intent. At first it seemed to be just a distraction - I still felt the pain but it didn't bother me as much. That's not a great deal of help in regaining mobility. It's nice, but not ideal. But now I think the pain relief feels a bit more real.
Yay! But I get ahead of myself.
A couple of days ago (Tuesday) was the low point, and to celebrate I spent most of it asleep in bed. Unusually for me I felt specifically and thoroughly unmotivated, and I wasn't up to the task of fighting it. I gave up. That really doesn't happen often at all. The cats rejoiced. That happens a lot. That day I was tempted to drop the trial but instead decided to revert back to the starting dose the next day and give it another chance.
Dosage has been a bit approximate: I was advised to open a 60mg capsule and start at 10% (6mg) and increase slowly (if I could) up to 50% (30mg) daily. I finished my first capsule after 6 days, at an average of 10mg per day so I reckon I wasn't too far off.
So Wednesday I took the dose down a smidgen of something in the region of 10mg. On Tuesday I'd tried really *really* hard to do work and failed miserably, so after taking the smaller dose I hit the work stuff hard straight away to see if I could sneak some in under the radar before the drug hit. And it worked! I was able to do 1 1/2 hours in the course of the morning before things went awry. But I was much heartened.
But wait! There was more! One of my goals before the trip to Adelaide/Melbourne next month was to replace my boots. Something flat, comfortable, and for preference not black. So yesterday I went to the local expensive-but-high-quality shoe shop I go to for new shoes every few years. That's right: every few years. I don't like shopping for shoes, but I like looking at their catalogue.
Things had changed somewhat since I was last there: there were no longer any prices on display. Ah. I had hoped to find something around $250, which is a lot, but worth it for the time they last. No such luck - the only pairs remotely suitable from the remaining stock were $350. *wince* (but red!...) I passed, but I did have some fun looking at all the exotic gourmet food shops at the centre, and picked up some truffle salt, which was on sale even.
So yay, Wednesday was a triumph. I wore pants. Last night I allowed myself some sleeping meds to catch up, so Thursday morning was a bit slower, and the brain was swimming again. The big goal was a Wildilocks appointment in town in the mid afternoon. Husband was able to give me a lift to the train station so I caught an eerily empty 6 car train into town, in contrast to the achingly full 4 car train on the way home during peak hour. I went stickless, so couldnt get a seat but survived reasonably well.
Did a spot of window shopping before and after the hair appointment (I am repurpled and trimmed now). I looked at camera gear and hunted down the oldest person in the shop to talk to. I looked for boots. I looked at much remnant stock and cursed all the heels and the seasonable bullshit that makes August a bad time to buy boots. Found a mother lode of cheap flat boots at a discount shoe shop, but they were *too* cheap and looked wildly uncomfortable. Was tempted and went so far as to try on some ankle high sandshoes covered in GOLD GLITTER(!!!) but common sense prevailed and I left them there. Another high point was asking the shop staff what time it was, then followed up with asking what year it was. I didn't quite manage to finish with "Woohoo! It worked!" but it still felt good, and they seemed amused rather than concerned.
Common sense of the don't-buy-those-shoes variety must be very tiring for I ran out of spoons quite abruptly. Made it to the station and squeezed onto a train. *Stupidly* did grocery shopping on the way home. But now I feel a bit recovered even from that, so it's very promising.
So, if this new level keeps up I'll be able to do more exercise without the punishing pain, which will help with the depression and everything else. Sleep is still an issue. Cymbalta seems to be known for side effects at first, but they don't last so maybe I've pushed past that phase and can now enjoy the benefits. I hope so.