Dinner and a show

In honour of my wife's birthday yesterday, and the end of the four days a year when she can say she's younger than me, we went out to a pretty good Indian place in Salem. Toward the end of the evening, I suddenly became aware of her saying "are you all right?" I pulled my wits about me and said "Of course I am," although I was somewhat lost in admiring the very hot chutney. She replied that my eyes were rolling, that my face was pale and had tremors, and I looked like I was about to fall out of my chair. All this on the tandoori, the hot chutney, and a half glass of wine. As usual, the colour was the first to come back as the server came over to help, whereupon every eye in the room was upon me. Embarrassment is as much a part of this business as pain. My wife insisted on driving home and I didn't resist. When I got there the combination of signs and symptoms interested me enough to check them against the meds.

Sure enough: right out of the Gabapentin playbook.

I'm supposed to be dividing my monster doses into three equal ones with meals, which isn't how I'd been taking the lower dose for years. Force of habit has had me taking the last dose at bedtime. Just this weekend, I determined to get the timing of that third dose under control, so for three nights I had taken it before supper.

Hindsight suggests that wasn't a good idea, and that I'd do well to return to the old schedule.

It ain't over til it's over.