The past few weeks, what with a new pup to tend to, a bunch of paying work (and more incoming), the scheme to self-publish three books, and a busy Holy Week, I’ve hardly had any sleep at all. Pup regularly lobbies to go out at 4 in the morning, and once awakened, I rarely go back to sleep. And night after night, bed-time has come along about midnight. Nothing out of the ordinary…but then there’s also the slacking off in the exercise department. When I’ve had time to exercise or walk, I’ve been too tired to bother. Result: ta DAAA! Resurgent back pain.
Sunday night I hurt so much I could barely hobble up the hall. So, along about 10:00 p.m. I decided to try a muscle relaxant the doc prescribed last year. Tried one of these a week ago, and it worked pretty well…next morning, I was actually able to crawl from the bedroom to the refrigerator, a large improvement.
The Rx instructions say the stuff should clear out of your system in about eight hours. Had a vet appointment at 10:30 Monday ayem, meaning I’d have to get in the car at 10. Eight hours plus 10:00 p.m.? Six a.m., right? So by 10 a.m. there should be no problem driving across the city and life should be good.
Actually slept seven hours, a record, but figured the haze of exhaustion was normal, since it usually takes two or three decent nights’ sleep to make up for ten days or two weeks of sleep deprivation.
Drive to the vet. Get last set of puppy shots. Bring pup back. Tuck her into her X-pen, turn around and race back out. Schlep to the credit union, deposit adjunct paycheck. Schlep to Costco; return ridiculous bathmats (purchased as dog mattresses) that can’t go into the washer(!) and make a few new purchases. Unload car, unload dog, let dog out, feed dog noon meal.
Fix my own meal. It’s now around 1:00 or 1:30 p.m.: fifteen hours after I’ve ingested 5 mg of cyclyobenzeprine. Midday feast: steak, potatoes, vegetable. I have a bourbon and water with this. Again, nothing out of the ordinary: I usually have a b&w or glass of wine with the big meal of the day.
I sit down to this little repast around 2:00 p.m. Shortly before three o’clock, I fall face-forward on the bed: seventeen hours after dropping the muscle relaxant pill. A friend expects me to show up at 4:00 p.m.; set the alarm to go off a little in advance. Conk completely out.
Alarm goes off. In a stupor, I can’t recall what I was supposed to do. Shut it off. Fall back to sleep. Phone rings at half-past four: where am I?
Think of that! A small amount of booze — no more than usual and certainly not enough to inebriate…at least not normally — and I’m passed out in the sack!
Presumably while I was driving around in a haze of exhaustion earlier in the day, I must have been impaired. And mistaking impaired for tired. Apparently the stuff took a good 18 hours to wear off: more than twice as long as the bottle’s label implies is the drug’s period of effectiveness.
Five milligrams is half the amount of the original prescription a doctor gave me of this stuff. I asked for a smaller dose and got it. But apparently half a dose is not small enough.
So…watch out for drugs that knock you out. The effect may not wear off as advertised.