The appointment with Dr. B went…very well. He actually spent a half hour talking to me. And listening.
While I did not agree with him on a couple of things (“Light therapy is the only cure for seasonal depression”, been there, done that, doesn’t fucking work even if you think I am lying) and He’s strongly against Effexor, says it’s the number one anti depressant to cause mania. If you’re not on a mood stabilizer, absolutely yes. But with a stabilizer, it has been one of maybe five that have worked for more than a couple of months without ass trash side effects. The withdrawal is the true hell, even tapering.
He wasn’t unwilling to go there…Just reluctant.
Then I opened my big fat mouth and his eyes glittered. I commented on Latuda and how it seems to have such varied effects on different people, so how good can it be. And like a man in bed with a pharma sales rep, he all but got out pompoms and declared Latuda would be the best way for me to go as it is an EXCELLENT medication for depression, especially used in concert with my prozac and mood stabilizer.
I was actually curious about Latuda until I started reading possible side effects. Then reading how varied the reactions are for some, it scared the hell out of me.
Too late, as long as insurance will pay and not do its “let’s substitute whatever is similar but costs us less” thing. Yes, they do that, and no they don’t ask the doctor as long as they are approving a drug in the same class.
The rest stays the same.
This one will be taken at bedtime, he claims it will make me sleep. Either way, I get sleep or I get insomnia, I win. I’ve done years in insomnia hell, and now that I have a kid, I could use the extra waking hours to get things done. Or if it helps me sleep, winner winner chicken dinner, too.
If it makes me freak out like Abilify or Lexapro, there will be hell to pay. And doesn’t make me comatose, I can’t do comatose.
But he was really cool and seemed to listen and understand. Asked if I was always so anxious or if it was triggered. Then asked if I’d ever done drugs. I copped to smoking pot a few times because I really haven’t got a drug history outside of the “legal” ones which are sometimes worse than the illegal ones. (Remeron? Seroquel? Serzone?) He laughed and said he’d not fault me for some occasional weed.
I haven’t used it in six years but hey, okay, cool. Nice to know if I ever want to smoke something that makes my IQ drop a hundred points and puts me to sleep.
He also confirmed something every other doctor blatantly denies. Abilify, lithium, seroquel-they all cause major weight gain.
And he warned me there could be some minor gain with Latuda (hey, I’ve lost five pounds since going on the focalin, so maybe it will balance out) but not to those extremes.
Furthermore,I was afraid he was going to start trying to shove the atypical antipsychotics as mood stabilizers and he flat out said, “Lithium is fine if you are bipolar one. For bipolar two, Lamictal is the gold standard.”
Excellent, dude. So my life experience is based on some factoids which all the other doctors invalidated.
I already respect this man immensely.
Aside from the light therapy thing…I’ve tried it. Fake light doesn’t work. And worse than the lack of sun in winter is the fact that I can’t seem to ever get warm. When I am cold, I can’t think, let alone function. You toss depression into the mix with anxiety, it makes valid sense why I break down.
He even validated the fact the seasonal isn’t lifting as it usually does by pointing out it’s been a very cold, wet April so until the temperature rises and stays up, I am going to need the prozac and Latuda if I hope to come out of the depression.
I will get them all filled Friday.
Provided I survive the massacre, er school carnival, Thursday night.
It wasn’t an absolute clown shoed day. I even cooked myself meatloaf for supper. Which of course the kid won’t touch because it’s not on a tray and frozen. I hadn’t had a good meal in a week, I was due. Plus, all I had to eat all day was a slice of cheese and half a hot dog. The cat got the other half of that after ripping into my finger and making me bleed to steal it.
There were a couple of moments that sort of freaked me before the appointment and I know it’s probably because of the anxiety and zoning out but…First, I missed my turn off I always take to get to the office. I’ve been going there for six years so missing this was out of character for me.
Then I decided to stop and put a dab of gas in the car…And even with the cash in hand, I put the gas cap back on, opened the car door, and realized, wow, I am about to drive off without paying.
Totally “lights are on but no one is home.”
I suppose this is where the propaganda of “panic won’t kill you” pisses me off. It’s not the terror of having a panic attack in front of people. Been there, done that, a zillion times. It’s not fear of dying or “losing control.”
It’s because EVERY time I do this “immersion therapy” and force myself into situations that cause panic in hopes of confronting and conquering…I get so physically rattled that my body reacts independently of my brain. I had a wreck when I was sixteen because the traffic was everywhere and people behind me were honking and I told my brain, don’t go,yet the panic made my foot mash the gas.
THAT is what I fear. Because whatever you fuck up during a moment of panic is still on you, for life. If the panic causes you to make poor choices or limits your ability to process information properly so you can make the logical choice…
I’d say that’s pretty damned valid as well as frightening.
It’s beyond phobia or fear or being embarrassed. If the panic sets off every receptor to the extent that your body and mind are altered…It’s dangerous. For you and for others. So pardon me if I “cling” to my panic rather than facing it.
I faced it plenty and all it did was leave me with more messes than any progress mentally.
Here is my spork count.
One will be gone because my kid hasn’t stopped talking and complaining for three hours. I still have to bathe her and it’s two hours til her bedtime.
Which will leave me with one spork for the rest of the night.
It’s like a Pokemon battle, you gotta choose well or you could lose the fight.
Shower? Clean house? Fold laundry? Read? Write? Glue sequins on my eyeballs and start an ijazzling trend?
Then again, the uzi child may cost me both sporks and I’ll have nothing left except to slither into the crypt.
Which of course makes me feel pathetic but you can’t write checks for money you don’t have.
Or eat food when you have no spork, as it were.
I make sense to my cats.
Okay, I lie. My cats don’t care if I am on fire as long as the dishes are filled.
They also don’t make me walk them when I am too depressed to breathe so it’s a trade off.