I took my Sunday shot of Interferon on 11/28/11 and had some problems adjusting to its aftermath on Monday, the following day.
My day started in a mundane way. I woke up early and shaved but felt a little tired and so returned to bed. I overslept until 10:00AM and had to rush to take a shower before my therapy session at 11:00AM. My wife drove me to therapy as usual. My psychiatrist has advised me to avoid riding public transport because of the exposure to various colds and other illnesses that my weakened immune system make make me susceptible to. I arrived in time to get a latte from Peet's before my session began.
I was very groggy and unable to delve into anything particularly deep during therapy. The medium latte from Peet's across the street wasn't enough to wake me up, alas. So therapy was a jumble of disconnected small discussions which were nevertheless satisfying because I unloaded about several small things. As always, I was a trifle annoyed and not having been able to use my therapy in a "more productive" fashion.
My wife picked me up at 11:55 after therapy and we went directly to CPMC to get my blood drawn. We had tried to do this the previous day, Sunday, but the laboratory was closed. We selected Sunday (as did my heptalogist) because my treatment week (including my shot of Interferon) begins on Sunday. But because of the lab hours I guess we'll be getting the blood draw on Mondays, instead.
I cam home after the blood draw where I slept for an hour or so. We hung up Christmas decorations around the house. I didn't do very much. I was tired and beginning to feel the effects of the Interferon the night before. I was a little depressed. I think I should plan on this situation arising on Mondays.
My wife and her mother went out to do some Christmas shopping. I went to gym at 4:00PM where I had a good and strenuous workout. I did my full routine which was rewarding since I am still expecting to suffer the physical consequences of the Interferon. But although I made it through my workout at full power I was so tired immediately afterward that I almost passed out. I was in a daze as I slowly made myself home, taking fifteen minutes to do so for what is usually a ten minute walk.
My wife was still out when I arrived home which is probably just as well because she didn't have to see me in such a worn physical condition. I was seeing spots before my eyes. I made myself a glass of cold water and sat down in the quiet dark to collect my thoughts and strength. She arrived when I was still in the throes of physical exhaustion but by then I was more or less OK. She knew something was a amiss but I simply said that my workout, which I had completed, had left me a little out of it.
I put on some music in the lights my wife lit in the living room. She continued decorating the house while I sat on the sofa. It was during this time that the full emotional effect of the Interferon hit me. The music was a mix of songs I had made some weeks ago and contained several that had a particularly strong effect on me. I broke down in tears and rolled over on the sofa. My wife thoughtfully came over with tissues and held me. I cried, "It's starting again," meaning that I was beginning to relive the consequences of the Hepatitis treatment. She consoled me until I got myself under control.
But it was short lived. Another song close to my heart began to play and I once again broke down in tears. My wife considerately gave me a tissue when I cried out for one and thoughtfully left me to cry alone. She wasn't sure if she should console me or leave me to cry alone and avoid the embarrassment of being held. The latter was probably the case. I have a built-in reluctance to cry from years of conditioning. Boys don't cry. I regained control of myself once again, still shaking from the experience.
My wife went into the kitchen to prepare our dinner for the evening. While away I broke down in tears for a third time. She didn't see or hear this so I avoided (unnecessarily) the embarrassment of her seeing this. Trembling, I yet again got control of myself. We ate dinner quietly on the sofa in the living room amid the clutter of Christmas decorations yet to find a home.
Sometime after dinner I got a call from the pharmacy that supplies my Hepatitis medications. They had screwed up the billing for them and wanted to know why I had not made my co-payments. I almost flew into a rage with the woman on the phone. In anger I told her that they never sent me a bill or otherwise I would have paid them. I finally arranged for them to automatically debit my account so as to avoid this hassle in the future. I ended the conversation rather abruptly after that.
The rage that had welled up in me from that phone call continued to gain power. I kept it to myself. But it was in contrast to the weakness I had felt before and equally powerful. I don't know why I didn't take a Klonopin to calm me down. I stewed alone in the living room while my wife searched for show to watch on television. I became so incensed that I turned off the music and sat in the darkness seething with anger.
Irritably I came into the bedroom to watch television with my wife. Although the show was a mental distraction and calmed me down I began to feel physical side effects of the Interferon. I was very restless and felt like my skin was crawling. My wife noticed this and asked me if something was wrong. I told her that I thought the Interferon was making me uncomfortable. There was little she could do so we watched the show in silence. I finally got up and took a Klonopin and drew out another full 10mg of Ambien to add to my nightly dose of 5mg. I figured that if I couldn't slow down I would at least sleep it off. The Klonopin had little effect. I finally took my big muscle dose of sleep medication and was able to quickly fall asleep.
I feel better this Tuesday morning and completely free of the side effects of the Interferon.
I need to plan on leaving Monday nights free and alone for me so that I can privately lose my composure and suffer physical discomfort from the Interferon. My wife agrees with this and so this will become our normal routine hereafter.
My day started in a mundane way. I woke up early and shaved but felt a little tired and so returned to bed. I overslept until 10:00AM and had to rush to take a shower before my therapy session at 11:00AM. My wife drove me to therapy as usual. My psychiatrist has advised me to avoid riding public transport because of the exposure to various colds and other illnesses that my weakened immune system make make me susceptible to. I arrived in time to get a latte from Peet's before my session began.
I was very groggy and unable to delve into anything particularly deep during therapy. The medium latte from Peet's across the street wasn't enough to wake me up, alas. So therapy was a jumble of disconnected small discussions which were nevertheless satisfying because I unloaded about several small things. As always, I was a trifle annoyed and not having been able to use my therapy in a "more productive" fashion.
My wife picked me up at 11:55 after therapy and we went directly to CPMC to get my blood drawn. We had tried to do this the previous day, Sunday, but the laboratory was closed. We selected Sunday (as did my heptalogist) because my treatment week (including my shot of Interferon) begins on Sunday. But because of the lab hours I guess we'll be getting the blood draw on Mondays, instead.
I cam home after the blood draw where I slept for an hour or so. We hung up Christmas decorations around the house. I didn't do very much. I was tired and beginning to feel the effects of the Interferon the night before. I was a little depressed. I think I should plan on this situation arising on Mondays.
My wife and her mother went out to do some Christmas shopping. I went to gym at 4:00PM where I had a good and strenuous workout. I did my full routine which was rewarding since I am still expecting to suffer the physical consequences of the Interferon. But although I made it through my workout at full power I was so tired immediately afterward that I almost passed out. I was in a daze as I slowly made myself home, taking fifteen minutes to do so for what is usually a ten minute walk.
My wife was still out when I arrived home which is probably just as well because she didn't have to see me in such a worn physical condition. I was seeing spots before my eyes. I made myself a glass of cold water and sat down in the quiet dark to collect my thoughts and strength. She arrived when I was still in the throes of physical exhaustion but by then I was more or less OK. She knew something was a amiss but I simply said that my workout, which I had completed, had left me a little out of it.
I put on some music in the lights my wife lit in the living room. She continued decorating the house while I sat on the sofa. It was during this time that the full emotional effect of the Interferon hit me. The music was a mix of songs I had made some weeks ago and contained several that had a particularly strong effect on me. I broke down in tears and rolled over on the sofa. My wife thoughtfully came over with tissues and held me. I cried, "It's starting again," meaning that I was beginning to relive the consequences of the Hepatitis treatment. She consoled me until I got myself under control.
But it was short lived. Another song close to my heart began to play and I once again broke down in tears. My wife considerately gave me a tissue when I cried out for one and thoughtfully left me to cry alone. She wasn't sure if she should console me or leave me to cry alone and avoid the embarrassment of being held. The latter was probably the case. I have a built-in reluctance to cry from years of conditioning. Boys don't cry. I regained control of myself once again, still shaking from the experience.
My wife went into the kitchen to prepare our dinner for the evening. While away I broke down in tears for a third time. She didn't see or hear this so I avoided (unnecessarily) the embarrassment of her seeing this. Trembling, I yet again got control of myself. We ate dinner quietly on the sofa in the living room amid the clutter of Christmas decorations yet to find a home.
Sometime after dinner I got a call from the pharmacy that supplies my Hepatitis medications. They had screwed up the billing for them and wanted to know why I had not made my co-payments. I almost flew into a rage with the woman on the phone. In anger I told her that they never sent me a bill or otherwise I would have paid them. I finally arranged for them to automatically debit my account so as to avoid this hassle in the future. I ended the conversation rather abruptly after that.
The rage that had welled up in me from that phone call continued to gain power. I kept it to myself. But it was in contrast to the weakness I had felt before and equally powerful. I don't know why I didn't take a Klonopin to calm me down. I stewed alone in the living room while my wife searched for show to watch on television. I became so incensed that I turned off the music and sat in the darkness seething with anger.
Irritably I came into the bedroom to watch television with my wife. Although the show was a mental distraction and calmed me down I began to feel physical side effects of the Interferon. I was very restless and felt like my skin was crawling. My wife noticed this and asked me if something was wrong. I told her that I thought the Interferon was making me uncomfortable. There was little she could do so we watched the show in silence. I finally got up and took a Klonopin and drew out another full 10mg of Ambien to add to my nightly dose of 5mg. I figured that if I couldn't slow down I would at least sleep it off. The Klonopin had little effect. I finally took my big muscle dose of sleep medication and was able to quickly fall asleep.
I feel better this Tuesday morning and completely free of the side effects of the Interferon.
I need to plan on leaving Monday nights free and alone for me so that I can privately lose my composure and suffer physical discomfort from the Interferon. My wife agrees with this and so this will become our normal routine hereafter.
Comments
Post a Comment