Thursday, March 31, 2011

You know when you are a mood altering drug when:

6 small green pills stare up at me from my hand. One more pill might make the smile they eerily form appear sardonic. They know that when I lift them to my fat scalloped tongue and wash them down my swollen uvuless throat, there is no turning back. The next seven days of my life belong to them! Of course, they start out with enticements like, "You feel great," Anything is possible," and "Everybody loves you." You know they have taken over when voice suddenly at 1:47 P.M. feels like it has raced down a dusty track on a hoarse with no name.
The decadron ride at 5:00, usually blasting rock music while taking corners in the 'Beemer' at 50 miles/hour today is replaced with a Zuma 125 cc powered fuel injected scooter. This bad boy will get up to 50 going down hill hunched over. The negative ions feel great on my face as I split lanes and zip in front of those fat cars.
Of course then comes the 11:00 P.M. hiccups with insomnia provoking me to sit down and write about hiccups and insomnia. My remaining rational thoughts remind me that Friday Night Lights will be dim and Saturday we won't be singing Italian songs in the park.
Contrast Thursdays with impetuous emails promulgating reason to double my weekly work hours (quickly recanted) to Monday morning dressed to go to work, yet drooling on the couch composing a mental e-mail on why I should retire. Aah, fun with Decadron.

I always assume my mood is stable. If my perceived reality changes, it must be all of the other inhabitants of 'me world'. However, occasionally, flaws in the Matrix appear and I am confronted with the possibility that I may be the problem.
When your mood is changed by 6 green pills it appears to yourself that you are still quite normal, status quo, steady. Why then is every one else suddenly annoying?

You know when you are on a mood altering drug when:
  1. Every treats you like you have male PMS.
  2. Your to-do list screams at you so you shred it mercilessly.
  3. You always search for the nearest chair.
  4. You do all of the work and get none of the credit
  5. The bed feels exceptionally comfortable.
  6. You worry more than usual and on Monday felt a brief flash of guilt.
  7. On Sunday you can't find a shovel big enough to stuff food down your throat.
Finally, Wednesday morning returns, green sirens singing of 2.5 more up days. Just swallow me and me and me. The cycle continues. But it is all for a good cause, I think; wait is this Thursday night or Monday morning?
If you want a large loan, see me Wednesday night, I will be in the OR operating late because I offered to cover call for my partner on National Doctors Day. Wednesday is our all-nighter. Line em up!



leslie said...

I am going to print this and give it to all my patients i put through this every 3 week with there chemo. This is much better description than i have been giving. I noted the time of the blog 130 am

hardhats said...

exactly my same thoughts on decadron day (Wednesday) I am so cranky and can't get to sleep until 3:30 am. I usually take the decadron in the mornings and try to take naps if possible.

Lee lomoljo said...

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Lee Marie Lomoljo
On behalf of the Physician Nexus Team