See, my doctor doesn't want me to stay on the Ambien for longer than a few months, due to some excuse about it being habit-forming (personally, I just enjoy the zombie state and massive retrograde amnesia). People have a tendency to try and keep me from being inherently awesome, so we sat around for a while, and after I beat him at poker, he prescribed me amitriptyline as revenge.
Amitriptyline is a tricyclic antidepressant with off-label use as a treatment for insomnia. It came in little green pills that smelled like absinthe, so I figured, what the heck, let's go for it.
Bad idea.
The next morning was like death. Nausea, restlessness, and almost passing out every three seconds. After some educational time in the ER, I learned something important: let your doctor win. Otherwise, they try to kill you. They have the secret powers and a huge list of drugs that will Officially Mess You Up Bad.
So, yesterday, I went in to apologize, and in a show of magnanimity (spurred, likely, by my completely contrived humility - I've seen people being humble before, I know how to fake it) he gave me some of this Rozerem stuff. Which, apparently, is made of tiny leprechauns, sent into the Iraq of your brain and told to find the WMD's. Except they actually find them, and the WMD's are the part of the brain that makes you go to sleep. No feeling doped, no giggling for hours while 'watching' a still life portrait, no forgetting who's sleeping next to you or waking up wearing nothing but a white sheet in the middle of downtown Vegas. Actually, I think I've been gypped.
Anyways, I popped this magical wonder drug with half an Ambien last night, and them leprechauns done rushed in and molested my sleepy switch all good. I woke up about eleventy billion times, but I do that anyways when I'm not heavily sedated. I still don't remember falling asleep, but that tends to be the boring part anyways. Yay for Rozerem. Yay for pills. I love America.
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