Nerves

Tonight I med monitored someone who had to take, among other things, five .5mg Klonopin. Five of these pills. All at once. Last spring when I decided to take a stab at dealing with my anxiety about the immediate future, I was given a scrip for this, same dosage of .5mg, one tablet at night. The shit knocks you out. A friend in NYC who begged some of them off me in the late summer referred to them as "forget-me-nots", which makes no logical sense, because not surprisingly, they sorta fog you out.

I hated them. I would wake up spacy, with a dry mouth and headache. I started cutting them in half. Then quarters. So you can see why, when I dumped out five of these fuckers onto a napkin for this woman tonight, I gave serious pause. I mean, of course I didn't hesitate about giving them to her. But I wondered how in the fuck she was able, just a few minutes ago, to teach me a bunch of tricky knitting stitches in a completely lucid and precise manner.

Part of me envies this chick. As are so many of the people I work with, she is totally in the now at all times. She was completely psyched that I had shown up with a bag of knitting, and within five minutes had donned one of the ponchos that she famously makes. Apparently it's the only thing she knits, rejecting suggestions to try scarves, hats, or more marketable items that she might have an opportunity to sell for a little extra spending money. She remains resolute, and the ponchos always win out.

I blabber about work because that's the easy thing to do right now. Because right now I have enough fears gripping me to warrant taking one of those leftover Klonopin. Ponchos forever!

Oh, if only.