How You Remind Me

2001. For many people, 2001 was a crap year because of September 11th. For me, it was a crap year starting in January.

Since my mom had quit her job at the nuclear pharmacy there was no one to shield me from the evil boss lady anymore. Evil boss lady knew this and resumed being evil. Early in the year, my sweetie and I had another blowout - I don't even remember what we were fighting about anymore, but at the time it was major enough to make me boot him out of the house...again. All I remember now is that it most certainly involved alcohol. He moved in with his aunt who lived across town.

I was missing a lot of work because of chronic recurring migraines and depression, and evil boss lady jumped on it like a football player jumping on a loose ball. Before I knew it I was back in her office again being raked over the coals. I did have it coming - I had been missing an unacceptable amount of work and my job was being jeopardized because of it. As she was harping on me about my absenteeism she suggested that maybe I should go see a doctor about my migraines. I thought she had a good point. I was having a lot of migraines - seriously debilitating ones that had me seeing auras and vomiting until it faded enough for me to fall asleep - and over the counter meds were completely ineffective. She also repeated her opinion that dudes like my sweetie never change, ever - and that I'd be much better off without him. I really felt like hell, so I took her advice and made an appointment to see a doctor.

At the doctors office I asked about something stronger than over the counter drugs to deal with my migraines. The doctor wrote a prescription for something called Migquin and warned me that it might make me groggy - best not to drive while taking it. Shit. Seriously doc? Did you miss the part where I told you I drive for a living? I must have looked upset or worried or something, because the doctor began asking me a lot of questions about my job and home life. I don't remember what set me off exactly, but I burst into tears right there in his office. The next thing I knew, I was taking a test - some quiz intended to assess my level of depression. I was unsurprised to learn I was depressed. The doctor wrote another prescription, this one was for Wellbutrin. Not only would it help my depression, but the doctor said it would also help me quit smoking.

I left and got my prescriptions filled, hoping that this might finally get the evil boss lady off my back. Back at home, I took the first of my Wellbutrin and when I went to work that night I told evil boss lady that it had been prescribed and I was taking it.

The first few days, I didn't really notice any effect on my mood. What I did notice was that the world was feeling somehow surreal. It was weird. I was still depressed and I still felt anxious, but strangely disconnected from everything. I was smoking less, but not because I didn't want a smoke - I was smoking less because they suddenly tasted nasty. Nasty wasn't enough to make me quit though - my body still wanted the nicotine and the crave was enough to override the nasty taste. I was also beginning to feel nausea and initially I thought it might have to do with the taste of the smokes.

By the end of the week, I was feeling worse than I did before I started taking the pills. I was returning to the lab from my route and all of a sudden the whole world spun on me. I was scared and for a moment I wondered if I'd just been in an accident or rolled the car. Fortunately it was neither. I regained control of myself enough to pull the car over and get the window down - then I spent 10 minutes or so vomiting on the side of the road. Not good, not good at all. The world resumed spinning again and I sat in my car with the hazard lights on, wondering how I was ever going to get back to the lab. I couldn't even see straight enough to dial the cell phone, so I just sat there and waited it out. It took about 20 minutes for it to stop. Great. I was now going to be late getting back and to compound it, I was going to have to stop at the car wash and spray off the side of the car. Ick. Somehow I got through it and was relieved to discover the evil boss lady had already left for the day so she didn't know I was late coming back. I clocked out and went home for the weekend.

Things didn't get better over the weekend, just the opposite in fact. I was feeling even sicker, and more disconnected. It felt like I was watching my own life on tv while sitting on a merry-go-round that was spinning out of control. I also began experiencing unusually vivid technicolor dreams that I could remember after I woke up. Man, I dream some weird shit. Between the nausea by day and the weird dreams at night, I was exhausted. I was still in touch with my sweetie (I kicked him out, I didn't break up with him) and one night I had a Wellbutrin induced nightmare that left me thoroughly rattled. It was really horrible. I called him on the phone because I was scared and I needed to hear his voice. I was too scared to go back to sleep so he told me to come over and I did. I curled up next to him in bed and eventually I was able to fall back asleep. When I woke up, he was sitting by the bed watching me sleep. My protector. I hung out for a little bit and then went back home.

The following Monday I felt too sick to go in to work. Uh oh, evil boss lady wouldn't like that. I could barely move around my own apartment though and I was certain that if I drove, I'd get into an accident. I called in and said I couldn't make it. Tuesday was the same as Monday, and Wednesday was the same as Tuesday. I hadn't eaten anything in days - food was even less appetizing to me than smokes were. I tried to go to work on Thursday and wound up going home after about an hour. I called in again on Friday, and that afternoon I called the doctors office. I told the doctor that I had been sick as a dog for the past week and a half, and that I wasn't so sure Wellbutrin was the drug for me. He insisted that this was normal and that the side effects would go away - just keep taking it. Ok....

By this time my sweetie was concerned. He hadn't heard from me all week and called me on the phone. I told him I was sick and filled him in on my week. The next thing I knew, he was at the door. He had gone to the store and bought jello, soup and crackers for me and walked across town in miserable weather to bring it to me. He spent the next week staying at my house taking care of me. When Monday rolled around and I was still sick, I called in again. I apologized to evil boss lady and told her what the doctor had said. In a moment of non-evilness, she said it was ok and told me to take the week off. I was relieved. My sweetie stuck around to help me out. The Wellbutrin was making me dizzy, I could hardly walk, and he made sure I was able to make it to the bathroom and back without falling down. He made me soup and the jello, and helped me back into the bathroom when it came back up on me. I was feeling seriously miserable and started to doubt the doctor - this shit wasn't getting any better and if I didn't get back to work soon, I'd lose my job. I called his office again to try and get him to prescribe something else, and the nurse there said he didn't work at that clinic anymore. What? He transferred to a different clinic, I'd have to see a different doctor. The doctor they referred me to said I should stick with it a while longer - I hadn't been on it long enough for the drug to build up in my system and the side effects wouldn't go away until then. I explained that I had missed too much work and said I was just going to stop taking them. He said if I did, I'd make myself sicker because you can't 'just quit' taking them cold turkey - I'd have to ween myself off them slowly and 'was I sure I didn't just have the flu or something?' Meanwhile, evil boss lady was out of patience. I had no time for weening - I was just going to quit cold turkey and let the chips fall where they may.

It would seem that the doctor was full of crap because I didn't get any sicker. I felt lousy on Monday, but I toughed it out. Each day I didn't take it, I felt a little better and the world slowly came back into focus for me. The dreams faded and my appetite came back. Much better. I figured that if the doctor could be wrong about the prescription, evil boss lady could be wrong about my sweetie too.

My sweetie's aunt got evicted from the house she was renting and I let him move back into my place. For a while things were going ok, he seemed to be trying to keep his drinking in check and we were getting along. A few months down the line however, I got another migraine. Migquin to the rescue! Unfortunately I had to call in to work because I was told not to drive under the influence of this drug. The supervisor on duty said 'ok' and I took the pill and went back to bed. When I woke up, I saw I had missed a call from work. I returned the call and evil boss lady answered and told me I was fired. Feeling numb I just said 'ok' and hung up. Later that day, I brought back my uniform shirts and jacket and demanded my final check. The equally evil receptionist said they'd mail it to me. I said 'Nothin' doing - I was fired this morning and you have 24 hours to give me my final check.' Equally evil receptionist went to see if that was true and promptly cut me a check. I took it, left and never looked back.

My mother-in-law was working at the unemployment office at the time and told me I should apply for benefits. I did and the nuclear lab denied the application. She said to appeal and I did. I wrote in my appeal letter that the evil boss lady had told me to go to the doctor for the migraines and I did just that. I wrote that the doctor had said it was dangerous to drive while taking this medication and that the evil boss lady was informed of this - I even had a note from the doctor confirming it for her. I said I figured I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't. If I went in with a migraine, I'd be yelled at for being in a bad mood or feeling ill and if I didn't go in I was in trouble for missing work. I explained that the prescribed meds had side effects and that evil boss lady, being a pharmacist, should be aware of those side effects. I felt I couldn't win either way. I won the appeal and was on unemployment for the rest of the year.

A few weeks later, it was September 11th and the whole world went nuts. I woke up that morning just in time to see the second plane hit the towers. "What the hell is happening?" I asked. My sweetie said "The world as we know it is over" and I joined him on the couch, staring at the tv in shocked silence. Truly horrible. People made a mad rush to fill their gas tanks because they thought there would be a shortage and the American flag was suddenly everywhere. I hadn't seen so much red, white and blue since 1976.

For a week or two I didn't bother looking for a new job. I called it a 'vacation' and tried to relax a bit. There weren't many jobs available at the time anyway. Toward the end of the year, my unemployment benefits were extended because there were so few jobs. I was beginning to panic. I had applied practically everywhere but there was a lot of other people applying too. People with more experience. By New Year's I was still unemployed and completely freaked out about it. I had never had this problem before - I always found a new job quickly. Worse yet, my sweetie was falling back into his old habits. Things were looking grim.

*edit*
Looking through some old photos my mother-in-law gave me, I found one of the two of us smiling happily at the camera. We have our arms pressed together showing off our tattoos. For his birthday that year, one of the gifts his mother gave him was a gift certificate for a tattoo from an artist she saw at the Irish Heritage Festival. The tattoo he got was a knot work band around his upper arm that resembled the one I had on my forearm. The artist asked me if I was sure I wanted someone to have the same tattoo as me. I said as long as it wasn't completely identical I was ok with it. The tat she gave him was beautiful. Not identical, but similar enough in design and color that they complimented each other beautifully. We were both very pleased with it.

I remember at the time, I thought his mom was very cool and I enjoyed going to her house. She had nice things, knick knacks, lots of plants. She seemed smart, funny and confident and she got what she wanted out of life. For example, she lives in a townhouse that's managed by a property association. When she wanted to plant a small lilac bush in her yard and was told she couldn't - she ran for president of the association and won. She then changed the rule, planted her bush and resigned the post shortly after. I guess she did it a second time at some point when she wanted a new window added to her place too. I was impressed.