Night two of the return-to-melatonin experiment was slightly better than the first, for anyone keeping track at home. I wasn’t awake for hours at a time, staring into the darkness while imagining myself in a remake of Laura Branigan’s “Self Control” video, dancing unrhythmically while lip-syncing “I, I live among the creatures of the night.”* But I woke up a lot, which is annoying.
Despite that, today was decent — for the first time in weeks I felt human enough to spend some free time painting my nails, baking brownies for Crankenstein and engaging in complicated facial moisturization rituals that mystified Muriel. That means the Botox is helping with my neck and arm, but in my body’s typically shambolic style a new problem took its place: my lower back won’t loosen up. I spent the day hunched over and seized by the occasional spasm.
Maybe I slept in a strange position, still uncomfortable as the Botox settled, and paid the price for it today. Then again, my SI joints have complained in recent months as I attempted — with my doctor’s permission — to lower my dose of methotrexate. At first I chalked it up to extreme winter temperatures, since fluctuations in barometric pressure can improve or worsen arthritis. But my joints didn’t improve with the weather, so it might be due to the medication.
No matter what decisions are made with my health, I feel trapped in a treasured and characteristically defeatist Smiths lyric: “Oh, Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head.” Overwhelmed by the demands of levodopa, I searched for ways to eliminate other pills or shots from my schedule.** There were none I could ditch entirely but I was offered the option to tweak an injection, and this might be a sign that experiment has failed.
All these domino-effect things that I can’t quite control are irritating. At the same time, it could be worse. And, hey, even this has a silver lining: I’ll take a muscle relaxant before bed tonight, which might stop me from waking up every 20 minutes with Branigan’s dramatic delivery of “I know the night is not as it would seem” stuck in my head.
* It would be a shot-for-shot remake of the William Friedkin-directed music video. But instead of the masked man, I’d become entranced by and eventually sleep with the Hamburglar. It would be funnier that way.
** You have to remember — or at least I find it helpful to occasionally remind myself — the quantity of medication doesn’t mean I’m ultra-sick. It’s partly a function of my intestines not working as well as they should. And I’ll feel less burdened by the levodopa once my sleep is better, which will hopefully happen soon.