There’s something about a ha-ha-take-that-recovery-demons post that will jinx you every time.
I’ve always suffered hayfever and excema worse than usual around this time of year. It’s been a perfect storm of Sydney weather over the past few weeks.
But this year, unlike the past two years, I’m not pregnant and I’m not breastfeeding. Bring on the antihistamines, I thought. Yippee.
Did you know Zyrtec is different from Claratyne? I didn’t. And the rotten man behind the counter at the chemist suggested I go with Zyrtec. I must have become too glib about popping medications over the last few months. (On reflection, perhaps that’s not fair: I have tried to work myself off pain meds as soon as possible and I do read the labels.)
Within hours, I felt like I’d been hit by a train. Or a bus. A freight train carrying buses. You probably get the gist.
Zyrtec “may cause drowsiness”, the packet had warned. You reckon?
I went to see a different pharmacist. Oh you’re the one in one-hundred who is affected by Zyrtec, she remarked as she switched me back to Claratyne. And finally today the dreaded Zyrtec seems to be out of my system.
Worse than the drowsiness (and that sucked) was the feeling of being back on the roundabout. I was in bed by 9.30pm and yet, a few hours after getting up each morning, I was back in bed again for a three-hour stint. Halt driver, I’d like to get off this merry-go-round.
Yes, I know I shouldn’t be frustrated and that this too will pass. The pharmacist’s reassurance that it wasn’t all in my head helped. I just think that there are people out there coping with so much worse and I want to put my foot down. Enough recovery, I say. Let’s get on with the next stage. I want to be the mum I was before this misadventure.
Ah, if only wishing made it so. It seem patience and persistence is called for. As I read somewhere not so long ago: “Good things come to those who wait. Better things come to those who work hard for them.” Cheesy but love it.