Status Report

It all began Wednesday week. Which is to say, a week ago this past Wednesday, April 19. It was an up day. There was an issue of training that seemed would be helpful to the office, so I spent about an hour and a half creating a step-by-step guide, with screenshots. I confirmed with a few co-workers that the instructions were clear & understandable, and each one said it helped and thanked me for the effort. I then e-mailed the instructions to the entire office, most of whom are working remotely.

That felt pretty good.

The rest of the day was similar. I was hitting all cylinders, as I like to say. Then – an unpleasant experience at a local business, which need not be detailed here.

That contretemps had the potential of spoiling a very pleasant and energizing day. I thought I might break the spell by going to a potent temptation zone: a bookstore. The closest was Half Priced Books.

So, in I go, wandering the aisles — as is my wont. A gentleman was next to me in the fiction aisle. I looked professional (still dressed from work), so maybe that’s why he asked me: “Can you help? I’m looking for War of the Worlds.”

“Try science fiction.”

“Oh! Good idea! I didn’t think of that!”

A few minutes pass. I’m in a different aisle, a few yards north of the cash register. There’s a young lady - possibly a college freshman - and the gentleman hands her the book, and she thanks him. He notices me, points me out and says that I deserved the credit. She smiled; I nodded & smiled in return.

Purely by chance, I ended up in line behind her. She had three books — War of the Worlds, Of Mice and Men, and Huck Finn. I asked her why she was buying these (I had assumed they were school related). She said she was re-reading things she had enjoyed when she was younger, as well as some classics she’d been curious about.

I don’t know what came over me: “Well, if you like Huck Finn, you might also like Pudd’nhead Wilson. It’s like Prince and the Pauper, except the children are slave and free.”

She thanked me, and we each went our way. Oh, by the way, I bought two books from the discount section.

Now, back to that notorious anniversary: my church, St Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral, is about a block away from the original Federal Building. Our church experienced severe damage - the sanctuary was declared unsafe for use, and the congregation held services in the parish hall for about two years.

Two of our members were wounded; one worked in the Journal Record building, the other in the Veterans’ Administration, in the Federal Building. They shared their individual stories that evening, as well as their faith journey from that day to the present. This was also energizing, and uplifting.

So: I was wound up when I got home, a little after 8, and had a restless night. But Thursday went well, though I was punchy. Left work at noon, because a computer glitch prevented me from doing my job. Once I got to Norman, I changed into my lawn-work gear, and mowed Debra’s yard.

By the way, I had brought an impressive stack of books with me (mostly Neruda-related), which ended up piled on a chair in Debra’s living room.

I had a lot of energy through the weekend. I’d balance yard work with creative work with reading. But I was beginning to feel exhausted. I was not sleeping well. I haven’t had my average ~7 hours of sleep since that Wednesday. I felt like I’m running on adrenaline.

March was a challenge for me. As my Primary Care Physician (PCP) has put it, multiple stressors created a “perfect storm.” There’s the on-going stress of my job, the stress of loving someone also stressed (by a relative’s dementia), and the sixth anniversary of Brother Dave’s death. I reported all this in early March to my PCP, and indicated I thought I needed temporary pharmaceutical assistance. He agreed, and prescribed a generic formulation of Cymbalta ®.

At that same appointment, I wondered aloud whether I might be manic-depressive. He did a brief assessment - maybe five questions - and felt that my symptoms did not meet the criteria. And, since I have been going to work every day, and have not had any socially-unacceptable behaviors, I accepted that diagnosis.

By that Friday, I began to wonder if the heightened energy and mood was elevated as a side-effect of the medication. Happily, I had an appointment to see my PCP this past Tuesday. I reminded him of our previous discussion about the possibility of bipolar disorder. Given this more chronic expression of “mania”, he said it was possible I have cyclothemia (AKA, Bipolar Disorder III), and that Cymbalta increases the severity of the symptoms. He gave me permission to decrease how often I take my medication; I’ve been taking it every day, in the morning. For now, I’m skipping a dose every other day.

Yesterday was less manic. But I woke up with a sour stomach, and wonder if it’s adrenaline.

The story continues.