The writing impulse has been stilled lately. There's no profound reason for this, sadly. I wish I could say I've been settling into silence purposely in order to reboot, so to speak, since, as I wrote last week, I am made for such rebooting from the daily noise of life to the quiet that comes only with Him. And within. No, there's a simple prosaic reason for my silence. Or I should say a simple medicinal one.
Last week I saw my neurologist. The people who work in that office have come to know me so well, they pull out my chart as I walk through the door, asked me about my new puppy, my summer guests, Grampie...well, it's almost like we're friends, but for the small, insignificant fact that they're sitting behind a counter complete with glass window which they close the moment our conversation is finished, and are there to take my money, make sure my insurance is up-to-date, and rarely divulge more than a snippet about their own lives.
Nevertheless, we have developed a relationship of sorts in the decade I've been coming to that neurology office.
A decade. Ten years. Yikes, that sounds like a long time. A long time and a whole lot of treatment--if only you knew the various things that have been tried to stem the ongoing and (dare I say) increasing nerve pain in my left leg? And before you begin suggesting alternative treatments to me, they've most likely already been suggested and discarded when they also failed to be successful. So here I am. Living my life, and being grateful for this office and the doctor who continues to to help me find some level of comfort.
Last Tuesday when I saw him, I had to tell him that a new symptom has developed: the inexplicable unreliability of the leg in holding me when I stand. Not every time--no, that would be too easy. But capriciously. Without warning. This moment when I try to stand, I lose my balance, fall back into the chair or couch. It's annoying. Really annoying.
So a new medication was added to the cache I swallow each morning (yes, all at once, like a pile of cod liver oil in mixed sizes and shapes).
And here's the rub of this new medication: it makes me so drowsy that before the clock strikes noon, my eyes are sinking into the horizon and I'm staring blankly into whatever space is left. Me...a person who can hardly sleep at night, so sleepy during the day you'd think I was pregnant (since that was the only other time in my life I was like this).
The good news is that the medication actually seems to be working--I haven't tripped yet this morning. Thank God! The bad news is two-fold. First, the doctor said this might happen until I get used to it, and, as usual, he was dead on--dang it! The compounding bad news is that I double my dose tomorrow (two hours isn't quite long enough to assume I've hit the right dose yet). So...will I be doubly sleepy tomorrow? Hmmm.
All this to say, I'm in no shape to write unless I write here and now for a moment or two. You'll have to excuse my silence for a while. I'll try to find the small window of inspiration and coherency to put it on screen. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go back to staring blankly into space.