asleep at the wheel

Coach put me back in the line-up. After being a healthy scratch for 29 dang days -- and nearly asking for my release in order to test free agency -- I'm back at work and back on the road. Left early for Ottawa Monday and earlier for Quebec City today, to toil on rooftops in the snow (FINALLY) and wind and quick-to-arrive darkness.

The days are long, but made longer by the daily commutes. Two hours each way to Ottawa, three each way to Quebec City. So I'm up at 5, on the train at 5:30 (with about a thousand other sad six a.m. sacks) and in my co-worker's van by 6 to get into Quebec by 9ish. I try not to sleep in the passenger seat, so the driver next to me doesn't do the same. And we've been cool so far.

(Note: Kids, you may not want to read ahead. But I think Santa may have a tough time getting around this winter, since I saw two of his reindeer laying on the side of the road. Lots of death this morning.

KIDS! I told you not to read ahead.

Ummm... well nothing to worry about, you'll get your toys. Santa's gonna be okay. So will his reindeer. I'm sure they were just taking naps... in puddles of strawberry jam.)

Before leaving Quebec City tonight, I told my Columbian co-worker I could drive because I felt shitty that he always had to do it and he obliged.

Bad idea. I've never fought as hard to stay awake in my (lucky-to-still-own) life.

Now I've driven 20 hours straight to Calgary from Yellowknife before, I did 11 hours overnight from the Quebec/Maine border to just about Halifax a couple months ago, and a handful of late night, ill advised drives through B.C., but honestly, I've never conked out before. Before tonight.

I was listening to the radio -- a story about a guy nearly getting crush by a car that drove through his drycleaner shop on As It Happens -- and I was watching the two red lights on the back of the semi in front of me, in the darkness, and watched as they began to run from beside to between a solid white line. Turns out that was the shoulder.

I just went. I didn't slowly fall asleep or anything, but I just slipped, my eyes crossed a little, my face probably looked like an infant pushing stool, and I snapped to it when the passenger-side wheels ran over the serrated strip on the side of the highway. If not for that, I'm sure I'd be in a ditch right now, spooning Bambi, in my own puddle of berry marmalade.

I totally understand how people fall asleep at the wheel now. I've slept 5 real hours in the past three days and I didn't want to touch a coffee tonight before the drive -- even though I needed one -- because I knew it would affect me when I got home. I watched myself let attention drift from the road to the radio or the road lines or lights and then SHIT!!! snap back and jerk the wheel. I fought it hard, mon! At least a dozen times. And the whole time, my co-worker slept next to me. Maybe he was dreaming pleasant things, keeping our karmic balance intact and battling my attention deficit and disorder to coax the ride back into its lane.

off the meds, even though i wasn't ever supposed to be on them

If herbiberous has seemed a little more distant or tired or unfocused than normal and generally otherwise not entirely himself, recent developments today may be able to provide an explanation.

A little background: since quitting my job last month, I have -- on quite a few occasions actually -- sat around the house, crippled by indecision and the odd crisis of confidence during my mainly commitment-free days, when I've tried to plot my next move. I have experienced some pretty lethargic days, which I had chalked up to staying up late without the need to get up early.

A little more background: years ago, I worked in the arsenic plant at Con Mine for six months pumping arsenic sludge out of three pits to have it transported to an autoclave, which burnt it into a less toxic compound. As a result -- I believe -- of the exposure, I have since developed rosacea on my cheeks, which flare up when I'm stressed out, exposed to hot and dry weather, wind-chill or when I eat spicy food. For the past few years, I've been on-and-off antibiotics to control it. When it flares up, it gets super-red and itchy, crusty and makes me feel like I'm wearing a mask. Plus, it's not very attractive -- it makes it seem like I've got a nasty sunburn all the time.

Well, today I went in to re-up my Doxycycline prescription -- the antibiotic I have found that works to control it. The prescription was written for me months ago by a nurse practitioner in Hay River, when I was working there in April. I had dropped off the request Saturday and was to pick up my shit today.

Before the pharmacist handed it back, she looked down at the pill bag and then up at me. "You're taking these for depression, right?"

"Huh? No," I said. "Rosacea."

"Oh," she replied, before telling me to wait as she looked into my prescriptive history.

Well folks, thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster she asked because it turns out, through a mix-up between that nurse practitioner and the pharmacy, that your old friend herbiberous has been taking an anti-depressant -- Doxyepin -- for at least a month and a bit. And maybe longer.

Apparently I was taking 100mg of Doxyepin a day. The drug is used to treat people with insomnia, anxiety disorder and major depression.

The side-effects from the drug include small annoyances like dry mouth, sweating and nausea to more serious effects like fatigue, dizziness, confusion, light-headedness, delirium and... wait for it... frequently impaired sexual function in men. Nothing to shake a stick at (no matter how flaccid said stick may be).

While the last renewal I got in Yellowknife in mid-June -- 30 capsules -- was definitely Doxyepin, my first prescription may also have been the antidepressant. So I may have been taking these things since late-April.

I know I should have double-checked and made sure that I was getting what I was prescribed, but dealing with pharmacists to me is really one of those automatic transactions in life, where these jargony-drug names all look the same. I trust everyone involved in the writing and dealing of the drugs knows what they are doing.

So thanks again to the pharmacist that took the extra two seconds to make sure I was getting the right stuff, because the next 30 days could have been just as manic as the preceding ones.

And here I am now friends, off my meds -- even though I never should have been on them -- and feeling great!

I can't be sure that my behavior was drastically altered because of the drugs, but I do know -- now looking back -- that I did suffer from some of the side effects and noticed a decrease in energy, a mouth that was constantly itchy as fuck, and I had a lot of difficulty focusing.

It should be noted in the last month, I've also done a lot of partying -- I'm retired, remember -- and I don't think medical professionals endorse people consuming massive amounts of alcohol while taking antidepressants.

I can attest that I have done some things that I didn't feel were very herbiberous-like lately.

So the moral of this story is... You live, you learn to read the label.