I'm having a crappy day so far. I made a mistake in setting out all my morning medications and accidentally took two capsules, instead of one, of the main culprit in this serotonin toxicity business—still not a diagnosis, just a strong working hypothesis. We (my shrink and I) have recently reduced the daily amount of that drug (venlafaxine/Effexor) by 25%—which is a lot, believe me, because it's a very difficult drug to withdraw from. This morning, I erred and took the old amount.
Because of this little mistake, half an hour later I entered the hellish domain of
Cramp City. Cramps in my shins, my calves, the bottoms of my feet, individual toes (!), the ligaments of my knees, my thighs (front & back), my upper arms, the tops of my forearms, and the ligaments of my elbows. We're talkin' severe pain here—thumbscrew pain, Spanish Inquisition pain, screaming-so-loud-your-throat-gets-hoarse pain. (I wish... actually, I have to suppress my screams because Bob is trying to sleep off a respiratory bug.) And it's not like the cramps come just one at a time: we're talking a whole symphony (or is it a
dysphony?) here.
This went on for two and a half hours. Now, as I write, it's mostly abated. It will probably come back, off and on, all day long.
Now I have had no comfort food in the house for several days, because I can't walk and I can't drive. (Leg cramps tend to limit those two activities quite a lot. When I try to walk, I usually fall down. Mostly I don't try because it hurts so frakkin' much just to stand up. As for driving, I've had two car accidents—mild damage, no one hurt—due to the influence of psych meds, and I very much wish to never have another one.)
Here's the part where you know the next steps in this story:
• What happens when you put a lifelong sweets junkie into a situation such as what I describe above, and you take away all means of access to their chosen comfort foods? Yes, you are right. That's exactly what is happening.
• To twist the knife in the wound a bit, what happens if the sweets junkie's spouse is very resistant to anything that resembles a demand, or a command, because he had to deal, when he was growing up, with a bossy imperious domineering oppressive tyrannical mother? (He tunes out all pleasantly and politely worded explanations of why, in this circumstance, I am allowing myself a cookie or three. He literally doesn't listen if he thinks whatever I'm saying is connected somehow to an
order. Everyone who knows Bob even briefly knows that you cannot
order him to do squat.) So once again, you know the answer to what happens in that situation.
That is my day so far, in a nutshell: severe pain for hours on end, no comfort foods, access to comfort foods blocked by a MAJOR control freak (or perhaps I mean no-control freak).

I hope your day is infinitely better.