Things Not To Do.

Thing 1:  Don’t run out of your anti-depressant on Saturday at 6:15pm on Labor Day weekend.  The pharmacy is closed until Tuesday.  That’s 2 1/2 days without it.

Which definitely poses a problem.  You have two options at this point.  Call around to any depressed or formerly depressed people you know and ask what they take and if they take what you take you ask if you can have some…just to get you through till Tuesday.  You feel like a drug addict.  Oh, wait.  You are.

Or, you can decide you’re just going to make it.  Make it through till Tuesday, despite the side effects of quitting cold turkey that you read online.  Brain “zaps”, nausea, feeling like you have the flu, fatigue, and my most common side effect when I forget to take my medicine for a couple minutes, dizziness.

Thing 2:  Don’t do the Sky Chair.  Ok.  Do do the Sky Chair.  Just maybe not on the same weekend you are out of your antidepressant.

The Sky Chair is this chair hooked to half a surf board looking thing you sit on that gets pulled 30 feet or so behind a boat.  It has a really heavy, 3 foot long metal post/fin/rudder sticking off the bottom.  The goal is to tell the boat to go, hang onto the rope, and use your body position to make the seat/surfboard rise up off the water so you’re just riding on the post-fin-rudder thing.

That is the goal. 

(I keep typing goat.  I mean goal.  In case I say at some point in this dissertation “that is the goat”, I most likely mean “that is the goal.”  Just in case spell check doesn’t catch it.)

Anyway, the other thing to remember, besides the fact that I had been off my antidepressant for 50 plus hours at this point, my two darling boys are in the boat.  I’m only doing the Sky Chair because I’m a tough, cool mom (OK, that’s my opinion, not their’s), and my boys want me to do it.  Or at least I think they do.  And, I’m dizzy.

Let’s start by saying, I’m not an expert at the Sky Chair.  I have never claimed to be.  But, I did stay on it, and did get up in the air to ride on the post fin rudder thing and did crash, gently, quite a few times.

But then, I CRASHED.  Un-gently.

A little more background about the Torture Device.  Your legs and feet are strapped in.  They can’t get out.  If you lean the wrong direction when you’re being pulled behind the boat, the Sky Chair goes REALLY high off the water.  Like, 6 feet or something.  And, if you get that high, it usually means you are flying.  Not a good thing.  Because if you get so high that the fin thing gets completely out of the water, then, nothing you are attached to is touching the water, which means, you freak out, let go of the rope and land back in the water as gracefully as a huge ham steak might hit the water if dropped from the sky.

You are the ham steak.  The water is a 2 X 8 fresh cut pine board.  And someone is swinging it directly at the right side of your head.  You land.  You stick your hand up in the air to quickly notify the people in the boat that you are not dead.  Then you squeeze your eyes shut, grab your head, and hope your brain moves back to the center of your skull at some point soon.

The boat comes around to get you.  You say, in an attempt at good John Wayne style parenting:  “I teach my boys to get back on the horse, so I will too!”  Also in an attempt to not let your boys know you are in serious pain.

Back on.  Back up.  Back down.  This time the pine board slams my rib cage.  My lungs and various other important internal organs are the dead bug on the windshield that is the inside of my rib cage.  And, water races into my right ear and comes out of my nose.  I didn’t know that was possible. 

That is one horse I’m not getting back on.

So, now, I’m dizzy from the lack of medicine, and am pretty sure I am hemorrhaging in the brain, or at least have a concussion, but at least my sinuses are cleared out.

Here is the issue:  (Other than some of the aforementioned issues.)

When you are dizzy and feeling fluish anyway, because of the lack of medicine, it is very hard to determine if you might be on the path to the emergency room due dizziness and nausea from blood pooling in your brain.

That is why I’d recommend not doing the Sky Chair if you’re out of Citalopram.

Thing 3:  Don’t try to act normal when you run out of your antidepressant. 

You aren’t.  Just accept it.  What I mean is, don’t teach a class.  You might do…and say…some weird things.  Don’t write down phone messages with the intention to call back…you might forget.  Oh, wait, you do that anyway, even when you’re not out of your medicine.  But now, your brain actually is foggy.  You actually will have nearly no recollection that someone called you.

I guess there are only really 3 Things, so I’ll be done for the day.  I am thinking more clearly thanks to the Tuesday pharmacy being open, and my brain and other organs have shifted back into place with apparently no unhealthy side effects.

Have a good day.

–  The Goat Cheese Lady

P.S.  All of the events of this story are actually true.  They really did happen.


About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Then I was an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life. Now, after moving to the country, I have embarked on life as a rural farmgirl, complete with my husband, the Animal Whisperer, man of exceptional knowledge and patience, two boys who are louder than my sister and I ever were, a herd of milking goats, and a flock of egg-laying chickens. Coyotes, mice, country dogs and prairie dogs are frequent visitors. Just 45 minutes north is Colorado Springs, the setting for our first six years in the goat world. Our family. Our city friends. Our introduction to cheesemaking. But we...and our growing farm and soon-to-be creamery...have set up shop down off of Highway 115 in Penrose, Colorado.
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