Just as I was blogging about
my trip to Prozac Land and how
I got my health back, after working for a week and a half I started feeling sick again. Very sick.
I was having these ups and downs, one day I felt I could fly and the next I felt I was down in a hole. I was throwing up every morning and I had stopped eating anything but fruit already quite some time ago. I was smoking like a truck driver (Spanish saying) and drinking coffee like a mad hatter would drink tea in every Unbirthday Party.
My psychiatrist then withdrew all my medication at once, which was sweet and sour. This crap fucks up your brain chemistry, and on one hand, you feel like yourself again, but on the other hand, the down is scary. I have been dizzy, clumsy and sleepy at all times since I am off the happiness pill.
My endless doctor trips have not finished yet, but I made an unexpected stop in ER last Thursday. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, delirious that I am going to loose my job because of my terrible health and, subsequently, lack of accountability, stressed as hell about it, and physically feeling like crap, I landed in ER Land, and stayed there for 6 hours. I felt frivolous taking this picture, my arm feeling numb and foreign from the
Peripheral IV line, which is what I was first given upon arrival, it felt too tight, slightly painful, and I was terrified to move or bend my arm. It just lay there, beside me, as if it were no longer part of me, out of my control.
All kind of tests were performed on me, blood was taken to feed the lab vampires, I don't even want to think about the urine, x-rays documented my piercings locations, physical exploration, endless questions, talking to two different, unfriendly, tired and overworked, doctors, and nothing was found, all looked normal. All but me, I was despaired. If all is fine, and I am not dying from bladder cancer, why do I feel like this? I felt stupid, I was looked at as I was there wasting their scarce time. Nobody could tell me what is wrong with me.
It looks like Prozac played an important role in killing my health completely. My psychiatrist has been on the phone with me all weekend, calling me every couple of hours. Why is he so worried about me? Why doesn't he want me to sleep alone at my place and wants me to sleep at my parents? Is it because of people committing
suicide closely related to Prozac? Why, if he is aware of this, which I do not know, did he give it to me? I am not suicidal, dear doctor. I am just feeling very sleepy, very clumsy, I can barely manage to press the right keys in Mutt, my email client of choice since 2000, which I know how to use by heart, my fingers just do their job, but not anymore. But how can I explain that to you?
My friends, again, are here, close to me, keeping an eye on me, calling me on the phone, feeding me, letting me take a nap in their couch.
Dear doctor, you have mentioned the latest
groovy drug to replace Prozac with, I am sorry, it is not going to happen. I am going to deal with whatever is wrong with my brain, mind and body in a natural way, with therapy, and healthy living habits. I trust you and respect you, but I do not trust these drug makers, and they are already making enough money. If it is going to be painful, I want to feel it. Please do not numb me and then make feel it all at once like this. Let me deal with it the way I choose to.
I choose the hard way. Can we agree that I am strong enough?
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