I basically passed out on the bathroom floor Sunday morning, fully expecting to wake up in a pool of my own vomit (so is this what it feels like to be Lindsay Lohan)? Technically I was on the floor between our bathroom and bedroom. And there was absolutely no alcohol of any sort involved. It's a long story, but it goes a little something like this:

The doctor upped my dosage of Mirapex, which I am taking for my Restless Leg Syndrome and my twitchy leg thingy (I can't remember the name of the condition). He doubled it, in fact. George mentioned on Saturday morning that I had been awfully twitchy the night before, so once we got home from the baseball game, I took the doubled dose of Mirapex for the first time. I slept OK, I suppose, except my arms and legs were kind of tingly all night.

When our alarm went off in the morning, I drug myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower. Well, while I was standing at the mirror, I got this uncontrollable urge to vomit. I mean, I REALLY felt like I was going to hurl. My heart was racing, my mouth was watering, my breathing was quick. I felt so bad, I had to sit on the floor with my head between my knees and deep breathe. George saw me and told me to get back in bed, that I was not going to church. I was too sick to argue. At that point, I figured I had gotten some kind of virus, maybe the same thing that had made Drake nail the backseat of the car with puke. I woke up probably an hour and a half later feeling much better -

Until I stood up and tried to brush my teeth again. As I stood there, holding the toothbrush, I got the same hurl-y feeling as before. Although this time, I had waves of heat going through my body, my arms and legs were tingly and numb and wouldn't really support me well. My head was spinning and stuffy, and my vision was was dotty. I sat down with my head between my knees again. I kept looking toward our toilet, which REALLY needs to be cleaned, and thinking, "please don't make me put my face near that".

I was so weak that I couldn't stand. Sitting wasn't helping me either this time, so I laid down on the floor between my bed and the bathroom and dozed in and out of sleep. I started to hear Lucy cry after awhile, and I got panicky because I knew I couldn't get up to go get her, and I knew I wasn't able to call loudly enough for one of the older kids to hear me. For some reason, I had taken my phone up to my room the night before and laid it on the bedside table, which I almost never do. At any rate, when I realized something besides a virus was happening to me, I called George (and got his voicemail, of course, he was in Sacrament Meeting.) So I texted him "Call me", to which he texted back to ask if anything was wrong. I replied only "yes".

He called me a moment later from the hallway. I told him what was wrong and apparently he disrupted Sacrament Meeting and set a lot of folks speculating what was going on. He asked our friend Josh to come home with him in case he needed to drive me to the hospital and leave the kids at home. I thought that was very nice/brave for Josh to agree to come and watch our brood.
So when George got home, he found me half-asleep on the floor. He asked me if I needed to go to the hospital, but it was an indication of how out of it I was that I didn't consider going at that point - I just wanted to lie down in my bed.

George helped me up and into bed. He asked if I could stand, but I told him I couldn't without getting sick. At this point, we both suspected my sickness may have had something to do with the higher dosage of medication I had taken rather than some virus going around.
At any rate, I slept until noon. When I got up, even though I'd been gripped by hot flashes and chills now and again, my head was hurting. I'd woken, crying out, from a dream in which a collision with another car was inevitable.

I wandered downstairs, groggy and feeling like someone kicked me repeatedly in the head. Luckily, Josh and Jamie are our friends and not likely to care too much if I look like Medusa. Josh was hanging out playing the Force Unleashed with Bart while George made lunch. The second - and I mean the second I stepped foot downstairs, without even looking at me (I wasn't even in the same room with him) Drake yelled, "Mom, I want a dink!" (drink), and Lucy crawled to find me quick as a flash. I can never get past their Mommy Radar.

Pretty soon Jamie arrived with the kids and we all had lunch. I think I may have uttered some coherent sentences over lunch, but I'm not sure. I just rested most of the remainder of the day while the Little Two took their naps and the Big Two read and watched TV. Even by bedtime, I was not wholly well. I still had a light-headed, detached feeling.

Ugh. It was horrible. I hope to never experience that again. I told one of our pharmacists about it, and she said it was too much medication for me.

But enough about that. Suffice it to say that a drug overdose is NOT what I had in mind when I went to bed the night before.