So the new med that has helped me so much to restore my former patterns of eating and sleeping has a side effect of weight gain- about a pound a week, give or take. When I got to 119 (16 pounds over my pre-accident weight, and 9 pounds over my post-accident weight), I decided to call my relationship with Zyprexa quits. I had done some research and discovered people sometimes gain up to 35 pounds their first year on this medication. I have long been described as the skinny blonde, and although it's not the best descriptor in the world, it was definitely mine.
Over the course of the first two months of taking Zyprexa, I watched my frame fill out with curves I've never known. Everything was going to my boobs, hips, and butt, which is better than straight to my mid-section, but still...119?!!
Over Spring Break, I stopped taking the med and fell into the well once again. I couldn't get out of bed. I was starting to feel hopeless again. After about six days of bad thoughts, I started taking me med again. I mean, honestly, what would Cory say to me? Choosing vanity over mental health? For shame, Mom! For shame!
At my last med review, I explained this to the nurse, stretching out my arms in wide exaggeration to describe my certainty that Cory would be most unhappy with my decision to let the cost overcut the gain...Really, Mom? Really?
At the end of this appointment, the nurse asked if my memories of Cory were becoming more pleasant to experience, which seemed like an odd way to ask a person how they are doing with their grief. It gave me pause. I've always had so many joyful memories of my girl. Since day one. That's what has made this so very difficult. Does that make sense?
I will agree that the fullness and richness of these overstuffed, techni-color, high def resolution memories have squeezed my old heart for all its worth. Is it easier to remember being with her? No. But I do find myself smiling sometimes when I think of her. Before, I could only cry. "Is that progress?" I asked the nurse.
She said yes, and her smile and eyes were kind.
So for the meantime, I'm still taking the med that keeps the flashbacks and nightmares at bay, and embracing my new behind. It may be a little fuller, but it's mine, after all. When Tim dropped me off at work yesterday, I told him to be sure to watch me walk away. He burst out laughing, and I put a little extra wiggle in my walk.
Cory would approve.
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