I thought Mr. Sweater Vest was above using such #$%!&^ language. Guess not. He is, after all, the "Fire In The Belly" of the Conservative/Tea Party these days. Gotta show some "real" anger to assuage the irked, pissed-off portion of the US of Nay to them there folks in places like Iran where the saber-rattling to go to war against them is floating around in the gaseous winds of the unhinged.
Go To War With Iran? Are these people out of their.... Oh, never mind.
So what else is new? Obviously I haven't a clue what to Flog about today. But here I am, Flogging Whip in hand, waiting for the "right" topic to send to the woodshed.
How about nothing related to the Big Newz of the day? That's it! I'll tell you about the perils of Ambien, the #1 Sleeping Aid in America at the moment. And it can be a peril to many who use the drug. Ambien isn't something you want to mess around with unless you can actually fall asleep shortly after taking it. Otherwise, you end up driving to local grocery stores in an Ambien Blackout Stupor only to awake moments later when pulled over by a cop for "strange driving patterns." (As happened to one hapless fellow a few years back.)
Well, I end up making dinner (that I only realize happened the next morning when I walk into the kitchen to see the evidence). Or, I feel omnipotent and free of any responsibility and call a grocery delivery service to stock up on items I don't need, wasting money I should be paying my doctors. Or, better yet, how about what I did a few days ago?
While I continue to progress from a hip fracture last year caused by a strange fall in the house, a Physical Therapist continues to come to my residence to fine-tune hip alignment and strengthen weak muscles for stable walking. Things are going well. At least they were. I'll find out tomorrow when the PT comes by again to take me for walks up and down stairs and hills, followed with several balancing moves we do inside.
Well, what a shock it was for my newest PT to find me in a bit of an odd "condition" when I opened the door for her Monday late afternoon. Unknown to me at the time, I had ingested an Ambien in error (it looks almost identical to another medication I take and was out of its bottle in my Rx drawer). Not only did the medication take me to an odd state of altered consciousness, but I stumbled on a stray bottle of cognac and decided that it would be a fun idea to have a shot or three in the middle of the afternoon. Say what?
Hah! First, alcohol doesn't spend much time in my home. When it's here it's for guests and for celebrations and special dinners. Why there was an open bottle of cognac sitting around the abode was/is unusual. Maybe it was brought by a guest from a recent gathering here. The fact that I loathe hard liquor, can't handle it, usually become ill, didn't matter with half of my brain shut-off from rational thinking from the Ambien. I didn't question what I was doing. And my PT appointment was less than a half hour away. It's always a great idea to get sheet-faced before doing balancing exercises, isn't it?
So, when the PT first saw me smiling she was glad, and I waltzed-walked around the main room to show my progress. She was impressed. I was no longer quasi-limping. Then I recall babbling about having had a bit of cognac and wasn't "myself." But, I wasn't slurring and could talk, so at that moment she thought I was merely a tad buzzed.
Next thing I recall: A fuzzy memory has me walking up and down a neighbor's outdoor steps (with a cane). I passed, but it must have been after that successful exercise when the PT realized what a mess she had on her hands because my next memory is walking down a private road with her clutching my arm to keep me from wandering in front of cars, I gather, and then another faint memory of returning to the house, doing a few more leg and other balancing maneuvers wherein she told me I was still doing well and more coordinated even when under the influence than most of her patients. Nevertheless, for my safety and her professional responsibility, she suggested that I sit down and take a few breaths.
I don't remember much after doing an arm and leg lift akin to stretching-out on ice skates, until I sat down at the desk where she was filling out her paperwork, then complimented her hipster knitted cap, finally comprehended that we wouldn't be doing a few other of my assignments, signed the paper she handed to me to confirm that she had been here, and waved goodbye as she very possibly fled out the door.
And then I have no memory of anything until I slipped into bed at 8:00 and slept for twelve hours, awaking to that awful feeling of "What the..." did I do? Why did I drink cognac? Or anything like that? In fact, I wondered, why did I seem so high before I made that ridiculous decision? Talk about mixing poisons! I went to my Rx drawer and saw the loose Ambien tablets had fallen out of the bottle and realized what had happened.
This latest incident is one of many I've had over the past two years whenever I have either deliberately taken an Ambien at night for sleep (when needed) or made the exact same mistake with taking the wrong medication during the day. For me it is a dangerous drug. My system doesn't absorb it in the way in which it is "supposed" to work. I remain awake and perform "normal" activities with very little memory of my actions. Not good, I tell ya'.
So, just in case you are thinking about taking that particular drug, make sure you aren't one of the many who have what I define as The Walking Ambien Zombie Syndrome. If you have trouble sleeping from time-to-time, try a warm glass of milk first, then take a hot bath, tell your mind to STFU and turn on a really boring TV show at 3:00 AM. If that doesn't do it, then maybe cognac all by itself might do, although I don't recommend it on a regular basis.
And no, I won't be taking any more of those little pills for any reason in the future. I'm lucky to be alive, unscathed, and able to function without it.
That's my latest personal story of the week. Hopefully my PT will be compassionate as she normally is, and tomorrow when she returns we can get back to the real healing biz.
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