I got back on Flexiril (a muscle relaxant) this weekend after a particularly restless and uncomfortable night Thursday night. Boy oh boy, that is some good stuff for sleeping. The dreams are intense, though. I had one the other night that hit almost all of my recurring dream themes -- travelling, climbing ladders and/or steep staircases, getting lost in narrow corridors, oh yeah. Still, they're not nightmares and it's sleep without pain, so I guess beggars can't be choosers.
I will say, however, that a night on Flexiril is not so good for being useful while awake. I've slept late all weekend. Even with all that sleep, I had to make myself get up. If Joe hadn't been encouraging me I'd have sat on my ass playing Spider solitaire and watching reruns all weekend. I'm kind of amazed that I got as much done as I did -- I made some blondies (with rum!), did some STC stuff, balanced the checkbook, went to a Caps game (alas!), and practiced my uke -- because I felt so slow and droopy.
Now it's Sunday night, heading toward midnight, and I am thinking that I'd better not take a pill tonight. I have to lead a brainstorming sort of workshop tomorrow afternoon and it would not do to be stumbly and drooling as I facilitate a focus group on how to improve team communication.
By the way, did I mention that I work in a communications department? Oh, the irony. It is to laugh.
In any case, I'll need my wits about me, which means I'll have to put up with my wonky neck. It makes the most interesting noises -- it's practically a bowl of Rice Krispies what with the snapping, crackling, and popping.
Another call to the doctor is in order. My inner hypochondriac has already offered several diagnoses, none of them minor, so it's time to see just what it is. Besides, I'm running out of Flexiril.