The perfect storm.

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I was able to sleep my eight hours. I picked up another two hours, after waking at eight hours of sleep, with a little effort. Why push for extra sleep? As I have said, like dehydration, deficits can be compensated but only over time, a bit at a time. Or, that is how I have found things to work for me. The rest was good, the extra rest was rough but needed as I see things. A little bit of grump time to deal with pains and discomfort this morning and I am, again, in decent shape. We will see if the waves of suffering begin today again. I suspect they will, if perhaps they may be lessening too.

I am taking the full compliment of recommended medications and figuring out how to stay 'wet enough' as well. Two or three 8 ounce glasses of Gatorade, a similar serving or two of milk, a soda or two (of which I can only drink perhaps half, as it is too filling). Further, I have bits of food. Brots, carrots, apples, and peanut butter, for now, see me to several very small meals which I can both tolerate and even almost enjoy. Other than cooking the brots, the rest is easy food. In smaller amounts I do well with food.

I just started the hyzaar (losartan plus hydrochlorothiazide) and standard hydrochlorothiazide. Those I will be taking in the late afternoon (early enough to void a time or two before sleep), with one of my glasses of Gatorade. The rest I take in the morning. The added effects of hydrochlorothiazide really helped to get rid of the extra water that was going into my abdomen, but I think if I took it in the morning with the rest, the effects might be washed out before I try to sleep, leaving me with too much fluid to sleep again.

Why do I call it the perfect storm then? Because, right at this time, I have food, I have the fluids I need, and I have a decent supply of medication. All of these things are difficult for me to both obtain and keep on tap. Like it or not, and in truth, my life is difficult to maintain without needing to keep dozens of things available. I fear falling in any of those areas. Shopping is still a struggle, maintaining focus to both realize I am low on a particular need and then seeing through to a timely purchase or reordering is difficult. And, I have finally realized I am crippled, it isn't choice so much as loss of function (which no medicine other than Ritalin has helped overcome to date). So, yes, I am afraid. Part of my unwillingness to go on medicines hinges on this fear, knowledge, understanding.

I will continue this as well and as long as I can. So far my blood pressure and pulse have not budged, other than diastolic going up to as high as 140 every third reading or so. Still, I have a few weeks before I go to cardiology. If I can maintain some focus, begin to get on some things, I might begin looking at the things D.C. and Jean have suggested in the way of more natural bp curatives. I will have to be very careful, however, regarding interactions, with as many medicines as I am taking.

But, there it is. I am riding the medicine bike, for now. I can't say how long, beside keeping the gravy trains moving, I can stay on the stuff. Often it takes a couple weeks to a month before my disability kicks in, enhanced by medicine, and goes into blackout conditions on this type of stuff. If they are wise, they will look carefully at what is happening and probably leave it alone for a bit. Any changes or additions must be done very slowly, very cautiously. I feel like my hands are bound, my neck in a noose, and I am forced to balance on a four-legged chair with one of the legs gone. Could be worse, it could have been a three-legged stool with only two legs left, I suppose. Laugh, damn you.

I take Sam in this afternoon. I may ask if my friend wants to go shooting today, and pick him up on the way to bringing Sam home. A shower, shave, and getting dressed are in order. I have enough clean clothes, but sorely need to wash some socks. I don't know what of that will be done by the time I go, but there is the game plan. At least, so far, today is better. If nothing else, my ribs don't hurt and my breathing seems a little smoother, so far. And so far, no waves of nausea, fever, or general feeling of being sick have swept through... so far.

As bad as that sounds, I should remind you, that is all good news, spoken by the tongue of a pessimist. Now for the bad news. Laugh, damn you!

Have a great day.