Whereby my body proves it has the upper hand, yet again

Note to our readers: The overusage of capital letters in this post is apologized for in advance. Profusely. However, to anyone who knows Queen Dweeb and her migraines, one knows that the rage, OH THE RAGE, that comes along with them can only be express in terms of the capital letters. I now leave you to your scheduled reading.

So Queen Dweeb hath been suffering from the migraines. Again. Mainly due to the EVIL, TERRIBLE, NO-GOOD, VERY-BAD HORROR-MONES. Even after going off of them. After much whining, and dragging of the feet, and womiting, it was decided that NO ONE WAS EVER GOING TO SPEAK TO HER EVER AGAIN, for LO, the YARFING, WE DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT ONE MORE TIME MISSY, ESPECIALLY NOT OVER DINNER, DO YOU HEAR ME OR DO I NEED TO PULL THIS CAR OVER RIGHT NOW?

So, after some thought, and a cattle prod, Queen Dweeb reluctantly made an appointment with the neurologist, and told him only this: "I HAVE THE MIGRAINES. THEY MAKE ME BARF ALL THE TIME, MAKE THEM GO AWAY. FAR, FAR AWAY. BUT NO DRUGS. NO DRUGS. THEY WILL MAKE ME FAT. LIKE A SAUSAGE IN THE CASING! DID YOU HEAR ME? I LOOK LIKE A JIMMY DEAN BREAKFAST LINK!"

To which the response was: "Ah, but there is a drug on the market, one that has a very serious side effect that you might tolerate. This side effect is coveted by women across all of Potomac, far and near. It is called: ANOREXIA!"

Dr. Awesome then goes on to explain that the drug (Topamax) has very few side effects, but that the one thing it seems to do for everyone is make them lose weight.

SOLD.

Literally, at this point, Queen Dweeb is hearing the Charlie Brown teacher talk of wah-wah-wah-wah, and dreaming of ponies, leprechauns and FITTING INTO HER FREAKING PANTS AGAIN. AND NOT THE EXPANDABLE KIND.

So, I am given the Topamax, and it is special, and because it is a brain drug, you step up the dose. So they start you out on 25 mg pills. And once I get to 100 mg a day, I check back in with Dr. Awesome, and we decide that, yes, weight is going down, barfing=very much less, and we will switch it up to 50 mg pills.

Woot! LIFE IS GOOD.

Yeah.......until. DUH DUH DUH. What's this? Oh, let me go HORK UP MY LUNCH. Oh, hello vertigo. I hadn't realized that I had invited you for an extended stay in my brain. Oh, appetite. I see you're back. Craving for pork chops? I MISSED YOU SO. THANK YOU FOR COMING OVER UNANNOUNCED SO I CAN HORK YOU UP, TOO. ALONG WITH ALL OF THOSE PEZ I FOUND AT MY DESK.

So, in a panic, I think, this can't be, Topamax cannot be letting Queen Dweeb down, can it? Topamax=fail=JIMMY DEAN SAUSAGE ARMS=MURDEROUS RAMPAGE.

Frantically digging through the apothecary that is the kitchen cabinet, a lone bottle of 25 mg pills is spied. Timidly, Queen Dweeb starts a regimen of them, forlornly thinking it is a lost cause. The next morning, she awakens to sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. Birds trill, Jupiter has aligned with Mars, and all is right with the world. Two days later, the curious incident of the yakking in the day has been forgotten, and 50 mg pills are swallowed.

TECHNICOLOR YAWWWWWWNNNNNNNN

Awesome.

Half mad, Queen Dweeb calls Dr. Awesome, and has the lovely task of explaining why she needs mass doses of 25 mg pills called in, that her body can't metabolize the 50 mg pills, and for the LOVE OF GOD CAN WE GET THIS CALLED IN STAT?

Did we mention there is no generic of this drug? And a 90 day supply had been ordered via mail order? EVEN BETTER. Nothing like spending $160 on USELESS DRUGS!

Four days later, 25 mg pills are called in. Horking abated, life goes on.

So the moral of this story is do not taunt happy fun metabolism.