A Night Without Meds

Restless legs syndrome (RLS) medication is the best invention in the whole wide world. It was at least 15 years ago that I was first introduced to pramipexole and then, later on, pregabalin. But it felt like pixies and magical unicorns had sprinkled a rainbow of fairy dust over my life. Years of chronic restlessness and constant movement became blessed with hour upon blissful hour of calm in my legs.

I'd forgotten to refill my prescriptions

If you’ve never experienced RLS, you don’t know what this is like. It is hard to understand that irrepressible, incessant, inconsolable need to move. All. The. Time. There is no rest. Even when I sleep I do not rest. I know this because my husband bemoans the little tsunami he sleeps next to.

But then drugs came along and changed everything. It’s been a rocky road of experimenting with different doses and going through augmentation and changing things up, but for the most part, they work really well. And I am so very grateful.

Imagine my dismay, then, when I found I’d forgotten to refill the scripts. I had to endure a night of RLS – back with a nasty, vindictive vengeance. A night of fidgetiness that had become just a distant memory. It was a nightmare night.

If I could stop moving, I would

I have a certain amount of wriggling that happens all day long. I don’t notice it because I’m busy and, where possible, active. But the worst of RLS happens at night, and night creeps up slowly.

It’s a gradual emergence of sensations that begin in my lower back and gently creep down my legs, so subtle I barely notice it’s happening. RLS is so common and automatic for me that I don’t notice until it’s in full swing. The march of the beetles is gradual, but it doesn’t take long before my feet are tapping and my hips are twitching and my husband is asking me to stop moving! Which feels so unfair, because if I could stop moving, I would stop moving.

Managing a night of miserable restlessness

Over the years my RLS has deteriorated, but my medication has matched it; so when I don’t have the meds, the impact is much stronger. I get nerve pain. I can’t even bend my body enough to stretch out the tension that feels ready to burst just below the surface of the skin.

For a whole night, I knew I was in for miserable restlessness. I got my FitBall and stretched backwards over it. I rolled and rolled over my foam roller. I lay on the floor and stretched my glutes, hamstrings, calves, and thighs — all the things I could think to stretch.

The relief was so momentary it was like the blink of an eye. I put my walking shoes on and marched up and down the street, trying to outrun the movements in my legs.

I am grateful for modern medicine

It was a very long night. No sleep was to be had, but an important lesson was learned: Never, ever let myself run out of medication.

And give eternal thanks to the clever researchers who invented it. I am grateful for modern medicine.

Have you ever had to manage your symptoms between prescription refills? Has it ever been difficult for you to get a timely medication refill? Share with us in the comments below!