Sleepless Freako

I’m exhausted because I haven’t slept well in about a week. I'm definitely incubating something, and shamelessly passing it on to everyone around me. However I just keep simmering, not quite well and not quite sick – but undeniably tired.

I thought this sleeplessness bullshit was over with. For many months last year leading up to my licensing exam, I had really poor sleep. In desperation, I resorted to taking Benedryl to sedate myself on nights that I really needed to rest, but inevitably I felt totally hung over the next day. This persisted throughout the start of residency. Then magically, about a month after my break up with the Bobcat, my sleep became good again. I was sleeping soundly, dreaming, and waking up feeling refreshed.

As someone who has enjoyed restful and sound sleep for most of my life, it is quite disconcerting to be suddenly suffering from insomnia. I really feel for my patients who are in this predicament, because I'm not suffering from mental illness (well nothing on Axis I anyway), and I feel myself going bonkers after a few nights of bad sleep. Imagine being acutely unwell and not even being able to benefit from the restorative properties of sleep.

Well I’ve had bad sleep now for a week and I attribute it to a number of stressors that have crept up out of the woodwork. Also, I have a presentation on Wednesday, which is not remotely done, and the article I will be reviewing is the most cryptic piece of scientific writing I have ever encountered. I think this guy took a hit of E and then decided to put some thoughts down on paper.

So, that little bit of complaining is all I can muster tonight. I had a very long day and then attended a dinner seminar where at least I ate like a queen. From there I had a late therapy session.

This is my second go at therapy. It’s one of the items on my list of self betterment activities for this winter of northern solitude. Last time I tried to see someone was shortly after I moved to Edmonton for my masters. The woman was great and I really liked her, but she saw me twice and then told me I didn't need therapy and that I couldn't come back until I was more fucked up. I insisted that I was nuts, but she was having no part of it. Imagine what being kicked out of therapy does for someone with a fear of failure....

Anyway, maybe tomorrow I will share a tidbit or two from this go round. Basically, I sit around with this guy for an hour and we shoot the shit and exchange stories. Last time, he asked me if I wanted to learn how to do some relaxation breathing. I told him no thank you. I prefer my shallow, fretful anxious gasps and racing heart to that airy fairy inner peace crap. As you can see, I've upped the ante. He doesn't know what to make of me, but there's no way I'm gettin' turfed by another therapist for being too well adjusted.

biggest hugs,
Tabby

Check Ca La..

http://iraterabbit.blogspot.com/

I feel like the luckiest cat in the world!!!!!!!

Sweet Dreams

When my time as a displaced person draws to a close, there is just one thing I want to buy for my next apartment. A bed. Yes, a bed. A good bed. One that is firm. Maybe with a pillow top. And I will invest in wonderful pillows to go on my wonderful new bed. And it will be big enough to fit me and my sweetie, if I ever feel like getting another sweetie, or at least 6 of my 50 cats. They can take turns sleeping on the bed.

When I fantasize about such a bed, it doesn’t even seem to matter what city I end up in.

t

Something Fishy

Well my hair is washed already, and I’m actually kind of bored tonight. Of course there are 7 million things I could and should be working on, but Friday night feels like a requisite night of fun and relaxation.

Last Friday, Pesto and I were in Boston. We’d had a lovely day of strolling around and decided to head out to the oldest restaurant in the US (allegedly) for some seafood. We had to wait a bit for our table so we decided to have a drink and some oysters in the bar. The oysters were great, and I think with repeated exposure, I am actually starting to like them. I rarely get sick, but every so often I get really tired and a little achy or sniffly for a day or two. About halfway through my gin and tonic I started to feel my entire body shutting down. I think I was even slurring my words.

We got our table and decided to order a bottle of wine. As soon as it came I knew it was game over for me. I couldn’t even finish my G&T. I had to tell Pesto that I was exhausted and needed to get to bed ASAP. So we ate our dinner really quickly and made our way back to the hotel. It just made sense that Pesto would be drinking the entire bottle of wine (in the span of about 25 minutes). We’re best friends, and we help each other out. Plus, to waste is a terrible thing.

It’s like the time in high school when we were on an “awareness trip” in the Dominican Republic and billeted with a local family. We would do our best every day to eat the food that was put in front of us. At the time Pesto was “allergic” to fish. We were served what we thought (based on our inability to speak any Spanish at that time) was a large chunk of deep fried fish. I have never seen Pesto so panicked in the entire time I’ve known her. She begged me to eat both of our meals. I felt sick just thinking about it, but I told her I would do my best. As I bit into that greasy battered log, a wonderful thing happened, I realized it was fried cheese. This is horrifying from a nutritional perspective but, as I recall, we were both overjoyed.

Anyway, I’ve digressed considerably.

We got back to the room and I tucked into my luxury bed, which had been subject to turn down service. It was lights out for me immediately. Poor Pesto. When I woke up on Saturday morning she asked me if I’d heard her barfing the night before. Of course I did not. I would’ve gotten up to make sure she was okay and then maybe put her to bed in the recovery position. She was reading her book in bed and began to have a wicked case of the spins. What a terrible feeling. She then proceeded to barf up the entire contents of her seafood feast, which is probably a good thing since she was apparently allergic to fish at one time.

So this Friday night is not nearly so exciting. I should’ve made plans to head down to Toronto as it is my brother’s bday tomorrow and my parents are going to be there. But I thought it would be better to just lay low. Now I feel lonely and kind of wish I’d gone. Maybe I could drive down tomorrow after my ski lesson. We'll see.

I will probably go to the gym tonight. The gym is my friend. There is a community of exercise addicts that meets there regularly. They are kind of freaky people. They sort of remind me of the characters in that John Irving book....which one again...Hotel New Hampshire? Did that book have a midget, sorry, a little person, in it? Well freaky or not, at least I will not be out with Mr. Dine and Dash and his mother...

wishing you all a night of fun,

TT

A Curd of Thanks

Thank you Balderson Cheese Factory for all of your hard work. You make the best cheddar and marble cheese in the world.

love Tabby

Tales From The Apartment

I think the woman who lives downstairs from me has Alzheimer’s. The first few times I met her in the driveway, I just had no clue what to make of our encounters. In true insecure Tabby fashion, I thought she didn’t like me for some reason. Her affect was so strange and she was friendly, but vacant. The last two times I’ve seen her have been pretty funny. It’s like she watches me pull up, and the second I am up the stairs she comes and knocks on the door. Then she completely lets herself in, comes up the stairs into the apartment, and we stand there looking at each other. Literally. For minutes at a time. It’s painful. I ask her question after question that meets with no reply...

Today she told me that her driver’s license was taken away “for medical reasons” and then she offered for me to start parking behind her car since she can no longer drive it. The thing is, I already have a pretty great parking spot so...I couldn’t really figure out if there was a reason why she wanted me to move my car or...was she just trying to be helpful? Unfortunately for her, the minute I walked into my apartment today, I basically unleashed an entire day’s worth of repressed farts. I was relieved when she didn’t pass out from the smell and tumble down the stairs further damaging her fragile brain. My only hope is that she will not leave a cigarette burning unattended downstairs causing me to perish in my sleep sometime in the next 6 weeks.

Maybe there’s something about this apartment that brings out crazy behaviour in people. A couple of weeks ago I had a date here that ended in the most bizarre way imaginable. Granted the circumstances were a titch strange. I met this guy on the cross country ski trail of all places (I’m just learning to skate ski and I’m really terrible). We started chatting and kind of hit it off. So we tried to make plans and surprisingly I was kind of busy that week, and then I was on call that weekend, and very reluctant to make “going out” plans. So I told him if he wanted to stop by on Saturday night and maybe have a beer and watch the hockey game, that would be great. He accepted and brought over some dinner.

Anyway, it super casual. I mean we don’t even know each other. And I thought we were having a good time. I was shining my light on him and making an effort to be charming. If I say so myself, I looked pretty cute that night. So, here is where things get wonky. We had our dinner, and some laughs. The hockey game was on. At some point, around 9:45, I got up to go pee. I was gone for about 45 seconds. When I came out of the bathroom, he said he needed to go too. He was in there for about 2 minutes. When he came out, I heard him mumble something and then he went straight over to the hall closet and got his coat out. I said “what did you say?” He said “I’m gonna get going”. It was totally weird. He was basically out the door within 45 seconds. I was left standing there in shock. He emailed a couple of days later to say thanks, and then this week he emailed again to see if I wanted to go out for a beer this weekend with him and one of his friends (and possibly his mother, I’m not clear on that).

I was totally bewildered, so I’ve been doing an unofficial survey to get to the bottom of this. Here are some of the current theories on what might’ve happened:

1. JBro was the first to hear about this and her immediate thought was that he had diarrhoea, or was about to, and needed to dash in a hurry. This is by far the most popular theory. He could’ve just said so if that was the case. I’m a doctor after all. These things don’t bother me.

2. I was wearing red corduroy pants that night and a light pink long sleeved T, with a black hoodie. It sounds kind of odd, but it looked great. Pesto believes that the pink/red combo was too bold and frightened him away.

3. It’s tempting to think that he came across something sinister in the bathroom, but there is just nothing conceivable that would’ve been offensive to him. Nothing.

4. Did he find something scary in the living room or kitchen? Highly unlikely.

What do you think? Also, is it wrong that I don't want to go out for beers with him and his army buddy and his mum on Friday?

xot

No sleeping on the toilet!

I’ve had a few requests lately to bring Tabby back to life...I will try.

This evening finds me just back in North Bay from a long weekend in Boston with Tirunesh. We were dying for a little getaway, so we booked a last minute adventure.

Things started out with a bang when we almost missed our flight out on Friday morning. They also ended in true Air Canada fashion with a flight that was over an hour late boarding. Then just as the plane was about to shove off, all of the passengers we forced to deplane and then replane again just for shits and giggles. It was terribly tempting to consider this an omen and just stay in Boston a little longer...

Our hotel was the lap of luxury. We walked all over town, shopped, visited the aquarium, ate yummy food, met great people, visited Harvard, and partook in a complete debacle on Saturday night. It was very therapeutic and it kind of sucks to have to get back to real life tomorrow.

At least I am doing psychiatry right now, which I love. I’ll see about sharing a tale or two tomorrow. For now I am completely bagged.

xot