In this post I talked about running out of my ACE inhibitor, Ramipril, and wondered if I really needed it. Well, today, I got my last meds delivery of the year, including more Ramipril, and I still don’t know the answer.
Just as one swallow doesn’t make a summer, one good night’s sleep doesn’t mark the end of a sleep-deprivation crisis that’s lasted for months – but it is significant.
When I was in hospital in August I was prescribed an ACE-inhibitor, Ramipril, to control my apparently high blood pressure. The problem is that I don’t suffer from the degree of hypertension that was shown in hospital – I suffer, increasingly as I get older, from White Coat Syndrome – a condition which generates false BP highs (in which the falseness lies in ascribing a pathological cause when the actual cause is environmentally-induced stress).
It does seem, as I speculated a short while ago, that sleep deprivation is behind many of my problems, not least my reduced ability to write.
Three nights ago I started taking Cetirizine,** an antihistamine, to shut down the baleful itching in my legs that was in real danger of tipping me into a breakdown and/or suicide*** from sleep deprivation had it gone on much longer, and I’ve been getting about 10 hours sleep a night.****
**The label says “This medicine may make you sleepy.” Ignoring the fact that they mean might, not may (might is Continue reading
I’ve bemoaned the fact that I seem to be losing my creativity – yep, even a fact-based blog takes creativity – the words don’t write themselves you know. 😉 There are also severe memory problems.
Today, though, after an extremely rare night’s sleep (the past couple of months, in hospital and here at home, sleep could be measured in minutes, not hours), it occurred to me to do a little online research into sleep deprivation. And what do you know, my creativity problems – the impairment of my intellect and of what I choose to call, in a nod to the late s-f writer Fritz Leiber, the wordmill in my head – could easily be laid at the door of sleep deprivation, as could my hole-riddled memory.
It’s possible that I’m Continue reading