I’ve been kind of avoiding my blog lately, to be honest. I haven’t really had a lot to say. So much for blogging every day, huh?
Tonight I graduated to 200mg of Seroquel. I accidentally skipped my 150mg dose the night before last, so I’m not sure if that’s going to affect me in any way. I couldn’t call Pam to ask, and totally forgot to ask my mom, so we’ll see. I feel fine, if not a little tired and cranky at times, but that could just be normal and have nothing to do with the meds.
So far, I think the Seroquel is working. I mean, I don’t feel any different — at least, I don’t think so. But I guess that’s a good thing, since most medications affect me in weird ways. I was on Zoloft for about a year when I was a teenager, and it eventually made me completely and coldly apathetic; I wouldn’t have given a shit if my whole family died. That’s a scary feeling, let me tell you. I had to wean myself off of it — because if you just stop taking it, it could make you suicidal (go antidepressants!) — and didn’t want to try anything else. Then, not too long ago, I went on Cymbalta because my rheumatologist thought it might help with the pain and the depression. Cymbalta made me more energized than the Energizer Bunny; I was like the Energizer Bunny on CRACK. I didn’t sleep at all. After about four days, I stopped taking it.
Pam says that people with bipolar disorder don’t respond well to antidepressants; they either don’t respond at all or have weird side effects — like what I experienced. So I guess my PA-C is pretty sure I’m bipolar, which is good; I really like that she listens to me and takes into account what I think. I told my mom years ago that I thought I was bipolar, and she brushed it off. (She still doesn’t think I am, whereas most of the other people I interact with do agree that I could be bipolar. I think she’s just seen way too many extreme cases at work; she’s a psych tech in the behavioral disorder section of a hospital.)
Seroquel does do one thing, though: it makes me super tired once I take it. I have to get a good night of sleep, or else I’ll be out of it for hours the next day. Pam warned me about this, and I’m stoked to for once respond to medication the way I’m supposed to. (Remember Neurontin? After about a week of being on that stuff for my pain, I ended up high as a kite on night in Mike’s basement, not knowing where I was or who I was with. Yeah. I so want to take that again. NOT.)
I see Pam again on Friday. I hope that she was able to get some ideas out of my rheumatologist’s notes. I try really hard not to think about the fact that it might take years more to get a diagnosis. I try not to worry that between now and then, whatever it is could get even worse — devastatingly worse. So far, I’ve been lucky. I mean, it sucks to be in mind-numbing pain when the pain hits, but so far it hasn’t done any damage — that I can see, anyway. I am pretty much stuck until I do find out what it is, though.
Anyway. How are you doing?
PS: I need some feedback on a couple of sections from Secondhand Mom, so I’m thinking about posting an excerpt here. Would you be down?
PSS: Freaking Bookworm is back up!