Detox Weekend Round One…
Considering the entire experience with medication has been completely different than the first time around, I should have known better that coming off the medication would be COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. There were no 9-volt batteries to be found and I never thought I would actually miss them. I took my last dose of Prozac on a Wednesday night, my last dose of Trazodone had been two days before, and I stepped down the Topamax by 1/3 of the dose. By Friday night I had nausea so severe my vision actually went hazy and I was praying to every last entity who would listen to keep me from throwing up. Vomit gives my panic attacks panic attacks. You have no idea. I was up half the night willing away the urge to hurl all over everything and somehow survived the night NOT breaking my 16-year streak of no puking. Saturday I slept late, sat at my desk for all of two hours and crawled back in bed where I slept on and off and had staring contests with Sheep. I was nauseous and exhausted and so bloody cold I could not get warm under three blankets. When I did finally warm up, I felt like I was suffocating and going to pass out. Sunday was more of the same, but I did manage to get out of bed long enough to shower and brush my teeth. I had to take a nap after because my energy was completely gone from bathing. I sustained on water and dry, plain bagels only because Bob delivered it to me in bed, ordering me to eat and drink. Monday what started out with the appearance of a routine migraine quickly turned into what was the WORST HEADACHE OF MY LIFE and I could not sit/stand/lay down in any position without my entire skull THROBBING. I have never been in so much pain in my life and I was genuinely scared that I needed medical intervention. When Bob got home from work, he fed me water and Aleve and I paced the floor for awhile trying not to throw up before the pain finally started to lessen.
Doctor Appointment One…
It seemed a bit prophetic that I had the worst headache of my life the day before I went to the doctor for a neurology referral. My appointment was at the asscrack of dawn because I scheduled it online and couldn’t choose a time. I was late because of awful traffic and cried in the exam room because my anxiety was off the fucking charts. By the clinic scale I’ve lost 11 pounds since my physical at the beginning of January. All of which was lost in the month of being on Prozac and Topamax. We discussed my medication misery and my detox weekend, the phantom smoke stench, and options for a neurology referral. Because there is such a backlog to get into a neurologist, he ordered an MRI and an EEG so I wouldn’t have to wait until I can actually see a neurologist to have them decide whether or not the scans were even necessary. He also ordered a full blood-workup and four vials of blood later I walked out with four more appointments scheduled. An MRI and EEG, a followup for the following week to discuss results, and an appointment with a neurologist in mid-May.
Brain Scans…
Being in an MRI machine is like being on a spaceship during meltdown. It’s loud, it vibrates and jolts, there are alarms and lots of banging. They gave me a panic button and headphones to listen to the radio. They put an IV hub in my arm to administer contrast. (The same arm I had blood drawn three days earlier. It’s still bruised over a week later.) And because even non-claustrophobic people tend to panic in an MRI tube, they put a cloth over my eyes to help me relax and block my view. It felt like it took forever, but was not nearly as stressful as it could have been considering I had no idea what to expect.
The EEG involved an elastic cap on my head, electrodes stuck to my ears, forehead, and chest, and a whole lot of conductive salt gel. The room was kept somewhat dark and the tech played music from the 50’s & 60’s while I kept my eyes closed unless ordered to open them. I had a light strobed in my face at increasing speed that made my eyes water and was bloody bright. I got to sit in a recliner with a blanket and “relax” for an indeterminate amount of time. I had to scrub my hair when I got home, and kept finding dried, crusty salt gel for the rest of the day.
Doctor Appointment Two…
I have a perfectly normal brain. The MRI and EEG found nothing. Which is good news, yes, and exactly what I expected. But it’s also incredibly frustrating because I still have no answer on the phantom smoke stench and it cost me a couple thousand dollars to find that out. My blood work suggests that I have a healthy body aside from my cholesterol being a little too high (yet down considerably from a year ago). He also gave me a prescription for Lexapro because the anxiety is out of control. I haven’t started taking it yet because I wanted to be DONE with everything else. And I also have yet to start the Vistaril either. I don’t want to start both at the same time so I can figure out what side effects go with which drug. Since the tests found nothing, I’ll have to ask Dr. Psych if it’s even worth keeping the neurologist appointment in May because what else can they tell me if there is apparently nothing physically wrong with my brain? I’ve already wasted a fuckton of money. Do I need to waste more?
Detox Weekend Round Two…
I was supposed to step down the Topamax in 10-day intervals. I did eight days on the first and six on the second. I wanted to have more than three days between being done with Topamax and starting Vistaril. I also just wanted to be DONE with the damn Topamax. I started at 75mg. I dropped to 50mg after my last Psych appointment. Eight days later I dropped to 25mg and felt incredibly sleepy for two days. Six days later I took my last pill on a Wednesday. By Friday night I was achy all over. Saturday I felt like I had been slammed into a brick wall and was incredibly tired. Sunday I hurt less but was still completely wiped out. By Monday I felt mostly normal. It was a drop in the bucket compared to the Prozac withdrawals. But I’m in no hurry to do any of it again. I’m kind of dreading starting any new medication because I don’t want to go through this misery again, but I have no idea how my system is going to react to the new stuff until I actually try it.
*sigh*
I finally have my appetite mostly back—though some things still really gross me out, I’ve stopped losing weight, and I feel mostly back to my general level of mech—or “normal for me.” Bob has made several comments about me being back to normal and how much better I seem.
And TMI ALERT:
WE FINALLY HAD SEX OH MY GOD.
In six weeks we had sex all of two times, both of which were hindered by my not feeling great (but dammit I wanted it). I’ve just felt too lousy to have it. When you’re used to having it a few times a week, twice in six weeks is miserable. Bob handled the lack of intimacy a whole lot better than I did. I was NOT HAPPY about it. It wasn’t like the month of Cymbalta where the mere mention of the word made me want to scream and cry and run away. I just felt too miserable—tired, nauseous, and generally gross—to have it. It really did not help my state of mind in the least.
You know what is GREAT for my state of mind?
A good, solid orgasm.
You heard me.
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Spaceman Fugitive Ryan Star |