I always seem to have the most exceptional side-effects when it comes to painkillers, perhaps because I so rarely take them. When I had my wisdom teeth taken out I totally zoned out of reality on a single dose meloxicam, which is a commonly prescribed painkiller. I had night terrors and sweats and was trapped in a semi-conscious sleep-ish phase... ugh, it was terrible. I rode out the rest of the pain with a little arnica and IBs instead. Also last year, I got a really bad flu, the kind where the mere grazing of clothing send flames of icy pain up and down the body. Also sleepless, I took some Niquil, which made me have to most horrendous dreams I've ever had before. They were suicidal, and so morbid that I can't quite believe they came out of my head. In one of them there were dead bodies hanging out of cars right and left on a dusty and lifeless highway; one of the bodies happened to be my photography teacher. After a bit of research I discovered that apparently nightmares aren't that uncommon with this popular flu medicine, but for me, being trapped in such horrible visions isn't worth the sleep.
The past two days I have been numbed down with a quantity of ibuprofin that I'm not used to consuming. I capped myself after 1,2 grams each day, even though I know I could technically take more. I always try to wait until the pain becomes unbearable to even take it, and make sure I reserve a slot for a dose before bedtime so that I can at least sleep. Well, considering the macabre route my fantasy takes when under the influence of NSAIDs (other than aspirin,) it wasn't the most peaceful of sleeps. Last night I dreamt....
I dreamt that I didn't have a pericardium (the protective lining of the heart). Instead, I had some sort of makeshift metal encasing, actually a melted tea-light holder, which apparently I'd forgotten that I'd put there. In my dream I noticed that it wasn't fitting quite right, so I pulled it off my heart and then I really didn't have a pericardium. I was in the middle of doing something in the dream, so I told myself to remind myself "later" that I had to "fix that," otherwise I'd die. I think I did some jumping jacks and with every breath I felt this strange smoky, icy wind circulating around my heart. It freaked me out, because I thought I was going to die, and then I woke up.... coughing a dry cough, because I also have some sort of flu right now, and completely paralyzed. My whole body was stiff and searing in pain. I don't think I've ever been so stiff before. My first thought was, "I have lockjaw, I just got a metal thing implanted into my uterus and I don't have an up-to-date tetanus shot. FUCK!" After laying there for what seemed like an hour, pondering what do, I managed to mobilize myself, still drunk with sleep and stiff as a wheelbarrow that's been leaned against a shed since september, now covered in days of snow... Somehow I switched into total pharmacy mode and found my little box of everything.
Homeopathic flu drops, phytolaca decandra, arnica, cough drops, thyme tea, and back to sleep. Ugh.
Today I felt my flu more than my uterus—which was such a relief, because flus go away—but I still felt like shit. Like SHIT! I could hardly move for the first two hours of the afternoon (my first time sleeping in past 10 since like forever!) My head felt like it was stuffed with a unique mixture of cotton and gravel, my neck felt like I'd spent the evening head-banging or riding a mechanical bull, like hours of whiplash, and my throat was raw. After some coffee, my head cleared up a bit. I forced some oatmeal into my system and at least had the energy to get up. I started violently shaking and freezing and the contracting of my muscles to shiver, set off that goddamn uterus. Sigh....It's really annoying to be sick in the winter and have this IUD thing to deal with, mostly because I'm not allowed to take a bath for like a month or something! A hot bath is all I would have wanted this morning!
Anyway, I simply refuse to give in to sickness. That's just not my style. I think it's a million times more beneficial to go for a walk and get some fresh air than to lay around in one's sickness. I hate that smell of toxic-sick-sweat mixed with warm blankets and snotty tissues. Ugh, no, the smell of -7°C and violently falling snow is so much better. I just can't rest when I'm sick. Once I've awoken from however much sleep I needed, I have to get up and move, however slowly or inhibited that might be. It took me about four hours to get out of the house, and the minute I did I felt better. I walked slowly down to the train, snow furiously attacking my face, and made my way to the gym. I know, right?! I'm the worst rester ever. But I swear by it, that endorphins are one of the best medicines that exist. I really, really needed that boost of natural morphine because my stomach, my dreaming subconscious and my conscience can't handle much more ibuprofin. Reduced from 1,2g to 200 mg today and painfully stiff, I managed 55 minutes of low-steam cardio. I must say I rocked my three stripes like a boss, considering that I was doubled over and whimpering yesterday morning, drooling in pain the night before, and nearly monoplegic this morning.
My highschool math teacher once told a story of a man who went for a run every day, even when he was sick with pneumonia and when the air took on sub-zero temperatures. I remember that story well, and it's definitely been a bit of an inspiration. (Mr. Star, if you're out there reading this, you might have to assume a bit of responsibility if I ever die on a run one of these days ;) ...)
I always have the most heightened senses when I have the flu, and am especially sensitive to smells. While on the elliptical, I fought to keep my stomach down when all of a sudden cheesy wafts started to emanate from a newcomer; an orange man in white shorts that were way too small for his butt. He looked like he'd waltzed out of Aqua's "Barbie Girl" music video with his unmistakably fake tan. With every grunt and lift of his barbell, the air was diffused with a smell resembling Emmentaler, that swiss cheese with lots of holes. I tried my best to focus on the beat of my music and the incredible cooperation of my body. Wow, sicker than I've been in a long time and I'm actually working my muscles. Incredible instruments we have!
Though it's definitely dropped to a lower niveau, I'm not going to deny the pain. It was hanging out at Le Bar Uteri, having a flamboyant cocktail with my cervix and making its presence quite known. But I nursed it with the thought that at some point the endorphins would be released, and that regardless of this initial pain, my body is going to have to get used to this weird device, so I might as well strengthen it as much as I can. With every stride I took, I willed my grimace to remain off my face and tucked away in my uterus. I refuse to let this pain take over my life. I will fight it like a graceful hun! And so after I'd endured 30-minutes next to Mr. Parmesan I switched to the treadmill and proceeded to run for a while. It was actually more of a jog; not the same as a real run, but better than nothing. Sometime during my after-run stretch, the endorphins tiptoed in, carefully and slowly but surely. I wandered to a store, painfree, but sort of out-of-it, and bought my groceries. I downed half a liter of carrot juice and went home, so glad that I'd dragged myself out of bed that afternoon. I will fight sickness and pain with tooth and nail if I have to. Nothing can stop me!
Hopefully tonight I can ride these endorphins into dreamland, and have my "normal" vividly weird visions.
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