I'd rather have the swans a-swimming, of course... when I came down with a new chest-cold this weekend, Caroline asked me when was the last time I wasn't sick on Christmas; I didn't know, so had to look through the archives here to find out: it was in 2005. I've been sick on Christmas seven years in a row, and eight altogether in the eleven years I've had a blog. That's kind of amazing... no wonder I've got where I hate Christmas, it has become the Season of Suffering.
I should be used to it by now: I've been sick more often than not for the last thirteen months. And I knew before I started on Christmas stuff this year that I wasn't going to be up to much, so we were able to keep it simple: a smaller than usual tree, one gift only, dinner in a restaurant. It was actually really nice and almost hassle-free.
However, my depression has made even this much Christmas a trial. Not only am I always sick on Christmas, I'm very often depressed as well. This year, I not only lacked Christmas Spirit, I lacked any kind of joy at all. "Mildly pleased" was the best I've been able to manage this month. I've also missed four days of work so far just this month, on mornings that I just could not make myself get out of bed, or couldn't stop crying, or both.
The depression is pretty much my whole life right now, and I'm ever so tired of it. I have an appointment with my psychiatrist in a few months, but we're tweaking my meds in the meantime (increase the Wellbutrin, decrease the Zoloft); also, I was able to see my new GP this week (my former GP, whom you may remember as Dr. McHottie, retired this summer due to personal issues), and he gave me some things to do to improve my health.
Exercise was of course the first part, as everyone always tells me. Even if I'm so depressed I can barely breathe, if I can only make myself do one thing on any given day, that one thing should be to walk briskly for fifteen minutes. It will improve me mood, as I well know (but knowing and doing are such different things), and might help some of the ache in my joints. But he also prescribed a steroid nasal spray (Flonase is the brand name, I forget the generic name) which should get these interminable head-colds in order.
The main problem with my nose is allergies, and Flonase is an allergy medication (I think), but the good doctor felt that if I could get my allergies under control, I will be less liable to catching colds nasally. I got the impression that the steroids "strengthen" the nasal passages as well as keeping them clear. Or something to that effect. It will also help with the sleep apnea, which will hopefully give me better bedrest, The stuff is awful, though; it smells like acetone and turpentine, with a bottom note of model-airplane glue; but now I can walk around saying that I'm on steroids.
Well, that's really all I have to report on. I'll probably pop in to do a birthday/new-year's thing, or I might not. Either way, I will have a new picture near the top of the screen.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
I'm still not in the mood to write here, so here are some piccies to hold you over... random stuff found around the web, and some of it is really random. And if you're still craving some words from me, please visit Lord Foxbridge Butts In to bask in my brilliance.
Posted by Robert Manners at 1:47 PM