So far, so good, oh well

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!

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

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.)