Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

Okay, that was bad. Is bad.

I was at my desk, working on the computer, when I got hit with a blast of nausea and dizziness and ... extreme acute sleepiness ... bad enough that I was certain if I did not get to the bedroom in the next few minutes I would be stuck in my chair for an unknown length of time. I made it to bed feeling weak as well as dizzy and lay down, with that "sleep paralysis even though I'm awake" effect taking hold almost immediately but incompletely: sometimes I'd be completely disconnected from my limbs, other times one arm or one leg or my fingers would suddenly respond to my attempts to move (my nose itched) while other parts remained stuck. I thought I would fall asleep almost immediately, instead I lay there feeling all twitchy but not really moving for about half an hour, occasionally managing to briefly open my eyes, and experiencing major proprioception glitchitude and tactile hallucinations. I've been sleeping on my side or not quite on my stomach recently, but this time I was on my back, with my shoulders tucked under my pillow (so as to keep them from feeling scrunched) and my hands over my head with my fingers curled awkwardly. At least I think my fingers were curled; since my proprioception was wonky I can't be certain. But when I was able to move them it felt as though I was uncurling them.

Part of the time it felt as though I had no arms. Other moments it felt like one arm was lying across my belly, or at my side, even though I knew it wasn't. At one point it felt as though my right arm were attached backwards. The out-of-position sensations in my neck, knees, and ankles were more subtle, and apart from my fingers, I don't remember noticing any other proprioceptive misfires. The tactile hallucinations were odd, especially before I twigged that they seemed to mostly be replays of past real sensations. So at several points I sort-of-felt Perrine walking across me, but a) I knew she wasn't there, and b) the sensations were ... half-there, incomplete, like a double-exposure that makes one image appear ghostlike, but all in my sense of touch. There were other tactile hallucinations but I don't remember what they were -- the ghost-kitty footsteps were the most noteworthy.

Then came the start of dreaming, followed by the start of sleep and the continuation of dreaming. (I don't much like it when the dreams start before I'm quite asleep, but it's something that happens sometimes. It happens to others as well, right?) Oddly, the dreams seemed to be chopped up bits of previous dreams, mostly one to two seconds long, reassembled randomly and even more disjointedly than dreams usually get. The barrage of distracting images was bad enough (it was like, "Hey, I want to sleep here; stop with the dreams that are keeping me from getting any rest," if that makes any sense; almost like I still wasn't completely asleep even for the period when I was asleep or something), but when I noticed they were repeats, that knowledge was even more distracting. At one point I made a mental note to write about a fragment from a dream I'd meant to describe here the day I first dreamt it, but by the time I woke I'd forgotten which one it was.

I slept for approximately half an hour, and woke feeling impossibly weak, no longer nauseated, still somewhat dizzy and feeling twitchy, and on the verge of tears. Perrine entered the room and started clawing the bed, and the first time she did so the sleep paralysis effect prevented me from being able to shoo her. Even speech was difficult.

When I woke, once I was able to move again, I noticed that my sense of touch was magnified. Touching Perrine's fur with my fingertips was amazing.

Once I felt mostly-awake, I wondered whether I was steady enough to stand. (Standing was difficult. Even lifting my head off the pillow was significant effort.) Remembering that when she whom I'm not permitted to admit I know suffered a bunch of falling-down spells they were eventually diagnosed as migraines minus the pain, and considering the fact that I do suffer migraines, I wondered wonder whether this entire episode could be in that category (the other likely candidate is "the fibromyalgia being especially weird"; failing either of those we go into too-scary land), so I thought maybe I should take some caffeine. I did make it to the kitchen, though I did so by descending the stairs backward with my arms wrapped around the railing. (I took the steep back stair instead of the easier-looking front stair because the thought of navigating the "nothing to grab onto or lean against" zone of the dining room seemed a greater obstacle than the steep stair.) I fed Perrine and extracted a Coke (which I have on hand specifically for medicinal purposes -- I usually drink stuff without caffeine) from the fridge without falling over (though my legs went funny directions a couple of times), and managed to climb the stairs (dizziness and "not trusting knees" feeling the problem on the way down, simple weakness being the obstacle on the way up since the dizziness isn't as much of a factor when ascending). It took me four tries to open the Coke. Twisting the cap enough to break the seal wasn't a problem, but my hands were too weak to break the connection between the cap and the anti-tampering ring at first.

When I started typing, a fresh wave of dizziness struck so I kept my eyes shut for most of the first paragraph. I am typing very slowly, my left arm trembles when I lift the bottle of cola (suddenly I'm quite glad that we use plastic bottles nowadays, because lifting a glass one would just be that much more difficult), and I'm starting to feel fibromyalgia pain in my right forearm and wrist. I also just noticed for the second time that I've been clenching my jaw most of the time I've been writing. (I noticed it twenty minutes ago but forgot having noticed until I noticed it againjust now.) At this point I'm looking to distract myself until I wake up enough out of this fucked up state to be able to go back to bed and try for something more like normal sleep. Oddly, writing is easier than reading right now, so web surfing is probably not going to be how I kill the time. Perrine gave me the most concerned look when she jumped up on the desk. (But she wasn't in "take care of the human" mode when I was in bed and occasionally moaning. Then she was in "maybe my presence will serve as a reminder that my food dish is empty" mode.

My eyes feel dry. And my peripheral vision feels constricted. Hmm. Actually, I'm missing a couple of degrees on the left but the right seems normal ... but it feels as though I'm missing more of my peripheral vision than I am. I've had this sensation before but have not found an adequate way to describe it.

This sucks. Mightily.

The timeline is: 3:05 - very sudden onset of symptoms (I had been well focussed on what I was doing until then); 3:30-3:40 - feel like I'm finally falling asleep; 4:00-4:05 - notice that I'm not actually asleep (any more?), unsure of how long that'd been true; 4:25 - start trying to stand up; 4:30 - log in and start writing this. I'm now about halfway through a 710 ml bottle of Coca-Cola. I did down some Gatorade before the Coke, hoping to counter dehydrating effects of the caffeine.