Beyond the Pain

I woke. With Siper Webs. Caressing my face. Burning. Itching. Hot.

My old friend. Visiting. Last week.

Serotonin Syndrome by name.

I had first experienced SS when I was given Injectible Naloxone (Narcan). For an Morphine overdose.

Then I rocketed from SS to Hypomania to full blown Psychotic Mania.

This time SS was milder. Thank God.

And, I knew how to treat it.

Stop ANY and ALL meds that contribute to SS. Lithium – the only psychiatric med I am taking.

Stop or reduce intake of ANY and ALL foods that contribute to SS. Namely, Orange Juice, Cinnamon, Chick Peas, Coffee, Alcohol. BUT, I still drinks my wine and my coffee. Abstinence sucks.

For a comprehensive list see here. And, if you are really, really curious (like me) Google or Bing search “Foods Avoid Serotonin Syndrome”

That is all — for now.

The railing was now on my right. But, I was going up. Not down. Kenny had said going up was easier. Less scary. I remembered the SSB stairwell. Going up was absolutely less scary. I had to try. It was the middle of the day. No one was going to come by. To help me.

I was on my own. Facing the stairs. If I wanted to get to my aparment I would have to ascend these stairs. May as well try.

I placed my cane on the first riser. Anchored it firmly. Lifted my left leg seven inches. Placed it on the first riser. Planted it. Firmly. I gripped the railing firmly. Pulled my right leg up. The seven inches. Planted my right foot firmly. On the riser.

One step beaten. Forty steps to go.

Half an hour later I was on the third floor landing. Opened the landing door. Using the cane trick I had mastered. Walked across to my aparment door. Put my key in the lock. Turned it to the left. Turned the door handle. To the right. Did my cane trick. Pushed the door open. Inward.

Walked into my apartment. The door closed behind me. Automatically. I leaned the cane against the stub wall. Beside the apartment door. Next to the kitchen.

I limped past the entry closet. Turned right. Limped into the master bedroom. Flopped down on the bed. Clothes on.

I was tired. Exhausted. Like a baby after walking two paces. Like a toddler after running all day. Like a farmer after eighteen hours plowing.

I fell asleep. And, dreamed.

Pre-publication Draft — Copyright Lyle T. Lachmuth, All Right Reserved