One slightly used puppy dog...

Last week, I tried to up my dose of theophylline again, wondering if it was 1) the 12-hour formula that was a problem and/or 2) if enough time had passed since the increase of thyroid medication. Fainting all the time is not safe.

I was doing well until yesterday.  What I cannot figure out is if starting the first supplement, curcumin, is what made me start to feel as if I am a plucked guitar string.  None of the other theophylline toxicity symptoms had started, but I could feel the agitation begin and my heart was hammering all night long.  It was fast, but not overly fast, but it kept me up.

I am so exhausted.
And frustrated.
And feeling alone.

I miss my GP.  She worked with me about my medications.  The new one specifically told me she did not want to be responsible for managing or consulting on medications she did not prescribe, which includes the theophylline. I really need someone willing to be the one to look at the whole Myrtle.

I emailed the cardiologist and skipped this afternoon's dose.  However, since I am supposed to be trying the supplement thing, I took the first dose of curcumin.

It is turmeric.
Apple keeps auto-correcting "curcumin" to "churchmen."

I feel wretched, and I almost posted Amos on Freecycle this morning.  He is decompensating and has started marking both the corner of my bed AND the corner of the GREEN chair.  He knows what he is doing is wrong and shows remorse (for a puppy dog), but when he is agitated, he marks again.

Last week, I did a couple of loads of laundry.  Then yesterday, I decided to do the bedding and toweling and sweaty clothing from painting, even though I prefer to only do laundry once a month or so.  All those stairs.  Well, I got the bedding changed and then discovered that I had to clean the bedskirt.  Do you know just how hard it is for me to lift up my full mattress to remove (and then later replace) the bedskirt??  SIGH.

That was another load, to which I added the duvet cover (that I had planned on leaving until another laundry session) and my pajamas, since I got too hot in them pruning at 3:00 in the morning when I was so nauseous I just had to get outside of my misery.

That was a third load of laundry.
Six in the past week.

I grilled the last of the corn and made another salad and was just about to sit down to eat when I spotted a fresh lake-of-Amos-anxiety next to the GREEN chair.  Freecycle came to mind immediately:

One slightly used, anxiety-ridden, fluffy puppy dog for pick-up; has an iron stomach and prefers to pre-clean all dishes, even ones with chipotle chili peppers in them.

I cleaned up the lake, refused to allow any pre-cleaning of my lunch, and have been languishing in the GREEN chair with a deeply remorseful puppy-dog who is doing his darnedest to make up with me ever since.  That might be because I dug out the belly band I bought the first time he started marking something—the door frame to my bedroom— and slapped it back around the Fluffernutter.  Amos does not like restricted access to his maleness.  I don't care what he likes, at the moment.

I am still tremulous.
I HATE this feeling.

Today, the mail brought me my first cemetery plot sales pitch with my name on it.  Tell me, how is that supposed to make me feel???

Have I mentioned that the family that moved into the house with the constantly barking, ginormous dog (which I was so glad moved away) owns a pit bull?  SIGH.

It is time for Amos' dinner and I am feeling a bit peckish myself.  That means I have to get up from the GREEN chair.  Stand and not faint.  Take Amos outside.  Remove the belly band.  Cajole him to step on the grass and tend to business. Replace the belly band.  Feed him.  Get something for me.  And make my way back to the chair.

Doesn't that sound exhausting to you????