Tag Archives: medication

Honey, I'm home!

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I woke up this morning and noticed little green buds on the tree outside of our bathroom window. I knew spring was here just from the spring rains we’ve been having, but seeing those tiny little capsules of life gives me hope.

Things have been pretty bleak lately up in my mental space. I cry almost every night because I miss Popi, but I force that pain to remain silent. It got so bad that I started withdrawing, pushing everyone away. I wanted to be alone, even though I felt so lonely.

Depression is such a paradox like that.

Being in my head these last few days hurt in a way that I can’t even describe, like having the most painful open wound, only on my heart. When I finally told Mike how I felt, though, the wound closed a little. I feel a lot more healed than I have in months.

Being trapped in this body and mind is exhausting. My body is, as usual, being crazy. I often feel like there’s no escape. The rashes on my hands come and go, I wake up every morning stiff and sore, my GI system changes its mind every day, I’m constantly thirsty no matter how much I drink, and the amount of mucus in my sinuses makes me nauseous every day. I have not been a fun person, mentally or on the outside, to others.

I saw my rheumatologist on Thursday, and got the results from the blood work I had done back in January. Everything came back negative. The only thing that showed up was that my blood sugar was a little high, which is strange because I’m hypoglycemic, and my blood sugar was crashing when I got the blood work done because I’m stupid and hadn’t eaten yet. It doesn’t make any sense. I talked to Dr. Kelly — my rheumatologist’s office is run by a husband and wife; this time I saw Dr. Greco’s wife — about my current concerns, and she also looked at the joints in my arms and hands. She said that the joints in my right knuckles were all swollen, so she gave me some samples of Celebrex — an anti-inflammatory — to try. She also ordered more blood work, thinking that my IBS-like symptoms could be caused by Celiac. Interestingly, the symptoms of Celiac are pretty close to mine, although I don’t notice any onset of symptoms after eating anything with gluten.

So, as usual… PLEASE LET THIS BE CELIAC! I want a diagnosis so badly, I don’t even care what it is at this point. I am so tired of going to the doctor and getting more blood work done. I feel like every time I take a step closer to finding out what is going on with my body, I end up taking two steps back. This month marks four years since my body started going crazy. I have spent four years trying to get an answer. It might not seem like a long time to some people, but it feels like an eternity to me.

I started Celebrex this morning. Dr. Kelly told me that it could irritate my stomach and make my GI issues worse, and that it could also cause swelling in my feet, so if it does bother me in any way, I am to stop it immediately. I’m also to get the blood work done a week after being on Celebrex, to check my kidneys because Celebrex can cause kidney problems, although it’s pretty rare.

How many drugs have I tried now? I’ve lost count. I asked her if Celebrex would make me feel weird, and she said it won’t, because it’s only an anti-inflammatory, and is non-steroidal. Good thing, because we all know how I react to meds. Sigh.

Other than being at war with my brain and body, things are all right. I’ve been at my new job for a month now. It’s moving slowly, and sometimes I’m really not sure where I fit in, but I think I will start to get into a rhythm soon. Hopefully. It’s frustrating at times, because I feel like they don’t listen to me, but let’s face it: I’m new and I’m relatively young. My age has never worked in my odds, but usually, with my old clients, as soon as I opened my mouth, they realized I knew what I was talking about. I have to keep reminding myself that there is a lesson in this new job somewhere; there is a reason why I’m working there and not somewhere else. I need to keep an open mind and try to be extra patient with the situation, rather than letting it either crack me up or make me want to crack a wall with my head.

And, of course, I have hosting again. It might sound silly, but I could hug this domain. This really is my digital home. I could not write comfortably at Diary of a Sicky. (However, I really liked the name, so I “migrated” it over here.) I’ve been setting things up again little by little. Right now, Freaking Bookworm is the only site that is completely all set. I have big plans for that little site. I’ve written up a marketing/business plan for it and will be posting it on the site soon. My goal with Freaking Bookworm has always been to talk about the books and comics I read with other people, but I’m taking it a step further. Just you wait and see! It’s going to be awesome!

I’m waiting impatiently for Tuesday, the day that a musician I’ve been following for close to ten years releases her first single. I was listening to Alaina Beaton back when she was Porcelain and the Tramps. Tuesday she’s releasing her first single, “This is What Rock and Roll Sounds Like,” under a huge record label Red One — the same label that Lady Gaga is on — under the name Porcelain Black. Her old music is fucking awesome. She describes it as if Britney Spears and Marilyn Manson “fucked and had a kid,” but since I don’t like Britney, it’s more like… I dunno. It’s awesome. My only concern is that her new single is featuring Lil Wayne. If you heard her stuff back when she was PATT, this would be a huge shock to you. It’s very strange, never mind the fact that I can’t stand Lil Wayne.

See? Totally not hip hop. But maybe I will be pleasantly surprised. I can’t imagine how this could end well — for my musical taste, anyway — but I’ve loved her music for so long that I am clinging to the hope that she hasn’t changed. Clinging, I tell you. Oh well. I guess I’ll have to wait until Tuesday. Don’t worry, though; I’ll definitely be writing about it.

(As an aside, I really hate that YouTube changed their embed code to iframes. Since I use self-hosted WordPress, I have to paste the embed code in HTML view, and if I go into Visual view, the video disappears. This isn’t so much a problem for me as it is for people who don’t use HTML. WordPress.com blogs let you paste the video URL between brackets — for example:

– in Visual and you’re golden. Anyone know of a plugin that does that for self-hosted WP?)

I’m so glad to be home.

Seroquel samples, 1. Me, 0.

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I briefly entertained the idea of going off of my medication this week.

I’m pretty used to Seroquel by now. I take it and everything seems to balance out. I feel like I can manage my life and my emotions better. But I recently ran out of my 400mg prescription, and started taking the samples I’d saved again. For some reason, the samples feel stronger than the prescription. If I miss one night, and take it the next night, it will literally knock me out for hours. I missed a whole day this weekend because of it.

I’ve now missed two nights. I’m afraid to take it because I’m afraid of missing work or waking up in time for work but being too lethargic to get through the day. The only thing that has kept me resolved to taking it tonight is because I know that going off of it would probably be very bad. My regular prescription doesn’t make me that tired. I’m hoping to get it refilled this weekend. (It just sucks because my copay is $40!) Until then, I have to keep taking the evil samples.

Has anyone else ever experienced something this weird? I mean, I know I react to medications pretty oddly, but this is odd even for me!

Squirt vs Apollo

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Pam wasn’t kidding when she said the Seroquel would make me drowsy. I took it at about 12 or 1am, and by 2am I could barely hold my own head up. Today I’ve been pretty lethargic; all I want to do is, well, nothing. She said it would pass after a few days. I’m pretty sure she said it would phase out once I hit the 150mg dosage, which is about five days from now.

I just downed a cup of coffee, though, and I feel a bit more lively now.

Speaking of lively, today’s been an interesting day. Remember how I told you about my living situation? You know: my parents, great-grandmother, and Apollo the cat on the first floor, my great-aunt on the second floor with her cat Charlie, and my sister, grandparents, Squirt the cat, and I on the third floor. My grandparents and parents ended up making the switch, so now Mom, Dad, Lauren, and I live on the third floor, and Noni, Popi, and Biz Noni live on the first.

We decided that we would eventually move Apollo up here, too, but knew that it would be rough because Squirt? Is Napoleon in disguise. She weighs maybe eight pounds soaking wet, but she’s got tons of attitude to make up for how teeny she is. Apollo, on the other hand, weighs probably two or three times as much as she does, but he is a big baby. Squirt originally belonged to my ex-boyfriend, and his family didn’t treat their cats very well. I found Apollo outside a few years after my ex gave me Squirt. He was a teeny, orphaned kitten, and you could tell that he had been dumped by his original owners.

So we knew that Squirt was pretty much going to push Apollo around. We decided to move him upstairs last night, and it’s been a Mexican standoff since. Right now, we have a door with a glass window standing between them, with him prowling most of her territory. Last night and most of today, she had him cowering in a corner. Even though she is my baby, I felt really bad for him, so I moved his litter and food into the corner with him and as soon as she left the living/dining rooms, we closed the door behind her. Now he is all badass, like, “What, bitch? You can’t touch me now!” Currently he is exploring under my desk and she is sulking in the window in the pantry, I think.

Squirt has always been my buddy, but I couldn’t stand seeing Apollo hiding under a table, not coming out to eat or drink; if he so much as raised his head, she would start to hiss at him, and if he tried to come out, she would charge. She is scary for such a tiny little thing; she has kicked my ass on more than one occasion.

But I love them both. I hope they at least learn to ignore each other.

I need your advice! Have you ever introduced a new pet to your current pets? How did you do it? Did they become friends? Is there hope? Please leave a comment with your pet advice!

Time to kick some depression and autoimmune ass

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I leave most doctor appointments feeling pretty frustrated, as if I’ve gotten nowhere and am starting over — all over again. Having an undiagnosed autoimmune disease means bouncing from doctor to doctor, telling my story over and over, and usually receiving a response something like, “Well, shucks, you’ve got a lot of symptoms, but fucked if I know what’s wrong! Also, all of your blood work is normal. You’re normal. Yay!” I try not to blame the doctors, but really — they’re doctors. They’re supposed to know, dammit!

I’m also always very hesitant to admit when I’m depressed. It’s easier to write about it here than it is to say the words out loud while looking someone directly in the eye.

But today — well, okay, technically it is now past 12am Saturday so this all happened yesterday — I shoved all of those fears aside and went to see Pam, my PA. And you know what? It wasn’t bad. At all.

Pam asked what I was there for, and I right away admitted that I’m having a hard time with my depression, and that things weren’t going too well with my rheumatologist. When I explained to her how I’ve been running through cycles — wanting to kill yourself one night and then being high on life the next two days is so not normal — she immediately agreed that I need to be tested for bipolar disorder and drew up a plan of action.

“I’d rather start you on medication used to treat bipolar disorder right away so that we can see if it works,” she said. We then discussed a few psychologists and a pain management specialist that she really likes, and narrowed it down to psychologist Dr. M and pain therapist Dr. P. We also decided that I would try Seroquel, a medication used to treat bipolar disorder. She explained that she has people start with 50mg for three days, then 100mg for three days, then 150mg for three days, then 200mg for three days, and so on, and that I would start to notice the effects within a couple of days. She also explained that people with bipolar disorder don’t normally respond to regular depression medication — or that it does odd things to them — which would explain why Zoloft basically made me a zombie and why Cymbalta made me hyper as a kangaroo on crack. She gave me samples of the Seroquel so that I wouldn’t have to pay for several different prescriptions, and said that she would see me back in two weeks to check on how the meds are working (and to call her in the meantime if anything comes up). I’m to call Dr. M before I contact Dr. P and am to start seeing Dr. M as soon as I can get in.

Then we moved on to my mystery autoimmune disease.

I told her that my aunt has Crohn’s, which I had apparently forgotten to tell her before. I also told her about the weird thing with my hands (I sometimes get little “spots” that are sensitive to the touch, as if I’ve been burnt or scraped, but there is nothing there). She confirmed my suspicions; this is another classic autoimmune symptom. She said that autoimmune diseases can attack the skin cells, so that is why I have that sensation. I’ve had this since childhood but never thought anything of it; I thought it was normal up until a week or so ago, when my hands were pretty much covered in these little invisible spots and I couldn’t let anything touch them because it fucking hurt.

We discussed me getting a colonoscopy to test for Crohn’s, and she said that she would contact my rheumatologist for his reports to see if he had any thoughts as to which autoimmune disease it could be before sending me to a gastroentologist. The last report he sent her was in September, and I continued to see him once a month through to November. I told her about how he didn’t really seem to remember me from visit to visit, and how each visit his ideas would change; one visit he would suggest that it was my birth control, the next he would send me for more blood work. From her face, I could tell she agreed with me that he is pretty out of it. (He’s a nice guy — don’t get me wrong! — but he’s pretty old. His brother was exactly the same way: nice, but very forgetful and a little cooky.)

Pam is going to get my reports from Dr. G (rheumatologist), and when I see her again in two weeks we’ll go from there.

I may not have gotten any solid answers this time, but I still feel like I got somewhere. I got the ball rolling on taking care of my mental health, which is ironically the easiest thing for me to fix (with counseling and medication, and with a diagnosis that will hopefully confirm my suspicions of bipolar disorder*), but it’s always hard for me to admit that I need to get help and to actually go get the help. I got the ball rolling on my physical health again, as well. I feel like I got a lot accomplished, because I took the steps I needed to take.

*Other people around me have also seriously suggested that I may be bipolar, including a social worker I used to see when in high school. Ms. Amenta, wherever you are, I miss you so much. You were the best.

PS: I should totally just make a “Depression” category.

Whatever the fuck is wrong with me hurts. Cymbalta can help.

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One month after yet another slew of blood work, and I still have no answers.

Mom came with me this time, and all of my blood work came back negative. Dr. Greco ran through the most recent and the last few tests to kind of bring Mom up to date. We discussed how I’d had mono and how certain diseases can contribute to later autoimmune diseases. We discussed birth control again and how the hormones in birth control can do all kinds of crazy things, like kill you or give you lupus. Dr. G admitted that he really is at a loss, but he really wants to help me.

“I can’t give you any answers right now, but I still want to make you feel better.” He asked whether I’m taking Tramadol still, and I told him that I haven’t been taking it recently because it literally fucks me up so bad that I can’t function; if I take it, I get stoned out of my mind. So he suggested Lyrica, which is just like neurontin (which makes me crazy and I refused to even try Lyrica). He asked if I am depressed. I almost didn’t tell him (because we all know what happens when you tell a doctor you’re depressed), but decided to be honest and told him yes, I am.

He said that some antidepressants can relieve pain, and gave me a free trial of Cymbalta. “You should not take this with Tramadol,” he warned as he slipped out of the room to go get the sample.

“I wonder if I should stop taking my birth control,” I said to Mom. “I’m going to ask him.”

“I would like to see you stop taking it,” he said, popping back in. He told us that he wrote a huge report on the effects that hormonal birth control can have on women, and told us that it can cause pain.

We scheduled a follow-up for four weeks from now, and I left with yet another batch of drugs (I should start selling my leftovers). So tomorrow morning, I’m not taking my Ovcon. (Somehow, not spending $40 a month on birth control anymore makes me feel a lot better.) I’m not entirely sure I buy the whole birth control thing, but it’s worth a try. I mean, at least I can say, “Okay, I stopped taking my birth control for a month or two and I’m still having symptoms.” I can’t knock it until I try it. And at this point, I’ll try anything, which is why I’m taking the Cymbalta without griping about how much I hate antidepressants and how Zoloft ruined my life, blahblahblah.

To be honest, medication scares the hell out of me. I’ve learned the hard way over and over that it affects me in really weird ways and, honestly, I have no idea what is in any of the shit that doctors tell us to take. If indeed my problem really lies with hormones in my birth control, I’m going to flip shit; no one ever talks about those kinds of side effects. (Note to self: Google that report.)

So I guess we’ll see. I’m honestly getting really freaking tired of this cycle, but I’ll give the no-Ovcon, yes-Cymbalta a shot. (Part of me wonders if he really does just think I’m crazy and pulled one over me by suggesting I take the antidepressant. But that’s the paranoid part of me.)