1/16/14. The post where I double my medication.

January 16, 2014: nearly slept through my alarm this morning.  The side effects associated with doubling my medication were not as bad as the first day I took it, but I could definitely feel the difference.  Not quite sure how long I was in the shower. Let's just say it's fortunate for me that we have a tankless water heater.   Got fascinated by the sunrise. (Even more so than usual.)  Washed my face and flossed my teeth at least twice because I kept forgetting whether I'd already done so.  Still managed to get to work by 9:15 and even in my medicated state, I think I was a safer driver than 98% of the drivers I encountered on my morning commute.  Co-workers promised I wasn't acting weird at work, but it's hard to trust people who are secretly judging you over your shoe choices. (See yesterday's post.)  Effects didn't start wearing off until this evening.

The good news: my foot seemed to feel better today.  I think.  Or maybe I was too looped from the medication to notice.  Not sure I can come up with a precise pain number today, but I think it's lower than 8.  Except for one unfortunate incident this morning, for which I take full responsibility.

While getting ready to leave for work, it occurred to me that I had a pair of pretty red pumps that would look nice with my sweater.  In my addled state, I tried to come up with some logic for wearing them that would get me past the shoe police, aka my patient and long-suffering husband.  1: the heels are not that high.  2: they have straps. (I have no idea how that helps my case, but it made sense this morning.)  3: my orthotics fit in them.  4: my foot is going to hurt no matter what shoes I wear, so why not wear shoes that will make me happy?

Armed with this iron-clad argument, I put the orthotics in the shoes and slipped on the right shoe.  Then I stood up.   AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!   Not sure that's exactly how you spell the sound I made, but it was something close to that.  I slipped the shoe back off, found a pair of my sensible, boring prescription shoes, and went downstairs to say goodbye to my patient, long-suffering husband without telling him about the incident he'd narrowly avoided.  Okay, shoe police, this time you won without even having to play.  Next time, you won't be so lucky...