Melatonin kicked my arse

I’ve been getting by on very little sleep each night for many, many years now but just recently, over the past six months, it reached a point where I thought – I can’t imagine living like this for another thirty years or so. (Of course I could drop dead next week so it wouldn’t be a problem – but you know what I mean).

And yes I have tried everything. If one more person suggests I have a warm bath before bed, dim the lights at dusk, don’t watch tv for an hour before bed, meditate, listen to white noise or have a chamomile tea, I will seriously punch their face in. I think the people who have all these opinions about how you can have a good nights sleep have never had a bad one.

So, I was at the doctors for something else last week and I mentioned it to her and she suggested I try melatonin. It’s only available here by prescription and costs about a dollar a night but I said ok.

But whoa people, say no to drugs because those pills wiped me out – not through the night but for all of the following day. The first night I took the full dose and I didn’t get any sleep that night and when I got up to go to the toilet through the night I felt as if I’d had about twenty glasses of wine with a couple of rohypnols and I continued to feel like that for most of the next day. There’s no way I would have driven to the shops and I couldn’t do any work or go for a walk. So I cut the dose to half the next night and I didn’t feel as smashed through the night but it didn’t help me sleep and I still felt trashed the next day. I took another half the next night just in case it was something that you might have to adjust to but it was the same thing and I had to spend about four hours just laying on the bed yesterday afternoon because my head felt as if it was filled with cement.

So I’ll be adding that to my list of sleep remedy fails – in fact I think I’ll put it at the top.

Mirror, Mirror

And…..

I think that clothes shops would sell a lot more clothes if they had more flattering lights in their change rooms. I hate shopping enough as it is – I don’t need to be exposed to every wrinkle and dimple and every bit of cellulite and sun damage I have while I’m at it. I tend not to be able to focus on the item I’m trying on because I’m too busy thinking – fuck, I didn’t look like that at home!

Daily Prompt: Mirror, Mirror

Look in the mirror. Does the person you see match the person you feel like on the inside? How much stock do you put in appearances?

I guess so – I don’t spend a lot of time in front of the mirror but I’m a realistic sort of person so I know I’m getting older and because I’d never bother with surgery or Botox or anything else things are going to change. I don’t think I feel as young as I did when I was 20 or 30 or that I even want to

It doesn’t freak me out that I’m looking older but it does freak me out a bit that I’m getting older. It’s because I’ll be turning 50 in about a month and I just can’t see how that can be possible. I know everyone bangs on about life beginning now and it being so wonderful and such a great time but I think they’re kidding themselves a teeny little bit. Sure I can see all the positives that come with getting older but when it comes down to it you haven’t really got a lot of good years left in you compared to the amount you’ve had. Even if you’re a fit older person you’ve probably only got until 75 – maybe 80 max I reckon where you can get around and travel and just do stuff easily. Sure you see the occasional 90-year-old jumping out of a plane but it’s not the norm. So that’s what kind of freaks me out; I’ve got a lot of things I want to do so I need to get cracking on them as time is flying.

Recently I bought one of those 6 x magnification mirrors because I couldn’t see what I was doing when I put my makeup on and man I can tell you, there’s no hiding from the truth in one of those things.

I don’t put a lot of stock in appearances and try not to judge people based on how they dress or look but I think it’s kind of natural to. You just have to go out for lunch or shopping with your elderly disabled father to see how people made assumptions about him based on how he presented physically. Or if I go out with my 80-year-old mother, people treat her like a child or as if she’s senile in some way. She was buying a coffee machine and I said I was going to go look at the cameras and the salesman said I’d better just stay there and hear what he had to say – because obviously my mother wasn’t going to understand or might forget in ten minutes time. I’m like – I don’t want the coffee machine, talk to her about it.

Anyway I think I’m off track now so I’ll just add this little part from the short story Eleven which kind of sums up how I feel about getting older. When I look in the mirror I just see me and I feel like me which is a culmination at this point of all the years I’ve ever been.

Sandra Cisneros 

What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are —underneath the year that makes you eleven.

Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.

Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.

Troubles

Two things are troubling me today.

The first one was when I went to buy some frozen vegetables. I like frozen vegetables for a few reasons

I’m lazy so I don’t have to cut them up.
I presume they’ve been washed so they’re not covered in pesticides like I always think the fresh ones might be.
I presume that they could be fresher because you always see stories on the news about fresh vegetables sitting around in storage for months before they get to the shelves.
I like that they’re protected from those people who touch and squeeze and sneeze and cough all over everything.

So I was pretty troubled to discover that all the frozen vegetable either came from China or New Zealand and the ones from New Zealand were packaged from imported goods – they didn’t say where. Can we not grow a bloody pea in Australia?? I’m all about trying to reduce my carbon footprint but its a bit hard if I can’t even buy a bit of carrot that hasn’t flown half way around the world.

Second thing that is troubling me today is my wardrobe.

I woke up this morning and suddenly despised everything hanging in it. Weird how that happens – everything seems fine when you goto bed the night before then you just wake up and look in there and hate everything.

Giddy Up

The Melbourne Cup. Apparently it’s all about horses. I thought it was all about good friends, new friends, sunny days, good music, wine and dancing.

Good grief, that was on Tuesday and I think I’m just recovering today. Talk about dehydrated, I was starting to think I was diabetic.

My battery on my camera ran out pretty early on in the day so I used my iPhone with the hipstamatic app. It takes such great photos and it’s so small you can get right up in everyone’s face. Or maybe I was just up in everyone’s’ face. Whatever, it was a good day. The band rocked it. Made the day. Aussie chicks, old and young, we know how to party.

And the gorgeous lady in the blue dress owns the Pub and put on a really good day.

Giddy Up.

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ouch

Warning – photo of pasty white leg coming up.

It’s mine and it’s covered with pretty pink bruises.

Ready?

OUCH!

It looks like that because I had a varicose vein treated yesterday. See it started at the top, went down to the right then veered off to the left. It was ugly. Ultrasound guided sclerotheraphy. This is the third time I’ve had it done. The first lot they stripped out back in 1993 but they don’t do that much anymore. They prefer this method where they guide a needle in by ultrasound and inject it with some sort of saline solution and it withers up. The information says that it is a godsend for people who have always wanted a fast, relatively painless method for varicose vein removal.

I have to say that I consider it a means to an end not a godsend. And it is relatively painless. The doctor always says – just a small ouch – as she inserts the needle. I find it very uncomfortable. She always says there will be more than one but less than ten injections. I find I’ve had enough after about five.

So now I’m in the compression stocking for a week then I go back and have the other leg done. With that one they’re behind the knee and I haven’t had any done there before and I have a feeling it’s going to be pretty tender.

By the way, taking off a wet compression stocking is no easy task. I have to shower in it then lie down and take it off and then put a new dry one back on. Seriously people I am going to end up with very muscular fingers.

So my legs won’t be beach ready for a couple of months yet. As the paperwork says – it is not for people who want instant gratification. Not only do I bruise pretty easily but the vein she has injected stays dark for a long time before it goes away. Sometimes for a few months. When I mentioned it to her she said that she was thinking about doing a study on it because she found that it only happened in people who had haemochromatosis and I’m a carrier of haemochromatosis so that was interesting. She said that she could snip the vein in two spots and take it out but I said – ummm, no thanks – I’ll wait for it to fade.