"O Captain! My Captain!" (prescription medication being my adversarial captain)
Well, tomorrow I go back into the trenches. My second dose of the "mild stimulant."
I am dreading it.
I have hemmed and hawed over giving it another shot and still don't know if I want to take it. The doc said if it doesn't work tomorrow I will go on a regular dose rather than a slow release so it will come out of my system quicker and I can take it twice a day.
When I asked the doc if he thought this would be something that could get better his answer was "You're sensitive to these things. It could get worse, it could get better, it could stay the same..." Pretty much what I already knew from all the years of going through med trials, but asked for my husbands sake.
The major reason I am going to take tomorrows dose is for my husband. He saw a glimmer of the "old me" and it really gave him some hope that I could get better. It's saying something that the poor guy is actually expressing his opinion about me giving it another go. His take this time is more like "You have to be optimistic about this and give it a try." "Stay positive and keep trying." He is usually pretty comfortable with my decisions because he doesn't know this business. I think he is banking on this medicine's efficacy. I am afraid he will be greatly disappointed.
I am sick to my stomach thinking that in about eight hours I am going to take a pill that is going to wreak havoc on me for 48 hours. Eighteen milligrams of hell. But hey, who knows, it might not be as bad as the first dose. The amount of times I have heard this and gone through this is actually pathetic!
The first few hours of my first dose was almost ethereal.
I was chatty and upbeat, dare I say bubbly. There was a look in my husband's eyes that said "where the hell have you been these last five years? Welcome back and don't ever go away. And can I go out with the guys, and can you deal with all the shit you haven't been able to do because I really need a break and I am so happy you're back. I really, really missed you! And maybe later I can get lucky?" It was quite a look.
I actually had to mentally tamp myself down because I knew it was a medicinal effect and not an actual behavior. It was too fast and too good. I had the shakes and jitters. They were mild at first, like I had too much coffee, but then I got that tired feeling like when you've had two beers. Not enough to get you drunk, just enough to make you want to go to bed. But it was also a feeling of exhaustion on another level. A mental level. Like my brain and body were saying okay "that little shit of a pill you took earlier is acting like a fucking four year old in here and we want it out." The little bastard took it's sweet time leaving too!
Went home, took a bath, "relaxed" in bed, tossed and turned and obsessed and clenched jaw and clenched fists and clenched neck. I was even sucking on my checks like a baby rooting for her next feeding. When I closed my eyes I could see swirls of light and dark almost paisley patterns. It was AWFUL! Tried to wake my husband who was in corpse pose and snoring like a champ. I finally got up at 3 a.m. took a bath. Too hot, too cold, too hot. Got out took a Benadryl and did a crossword puzzle with the dog until I felt like I could lay down and actually sleep, or a least lay still. The next day I was anxious and emotional and really disappointed. For me, for my kids and more so for my poor husband.
We have been together over twelve years and for the first seven I was in an almost "remission" of sorts from the depression. I had my days but nothing like I was earlier in my life. And then I became pregnant with my son.
During my pregnancy it all came crumbling down.
I honestly thought I had kicked the depression, kicked the deep dark stuff. It came back like one of those Lord of the Rings Dark Riders. Faceless, looming, terrifying. It might leave for a bit but it would smell or feel me out and come back, just as scary and just as dark.
There have been hospitalizations and really, really terrible times. My family have seen me go from active to bedridden time and again.
So to say I want this med to work is the understatement of a lifetime! I want it to work for Z and T and S and me. I want to feel truly alive again. I want the multiple stimuli sensitivity to go away so I can be in the same room with them, TV on, kettle whistling and water running without feeling like I need to get out immediately or I will explode. I want to be able to "handle" things again. I don't want my husband to have to come looking for me, to find me cowered in a corner of our garage behind a motorcycle and some galvanized cans rocking back and forth because I am beyond calming down and afraid my children will see me in this state. I want better for them.
I will take this pill tomorrow, and if it doesn't work, which I really feel terrible saying, will most likely be the case, then I will call the doc on Thursday and get yet another script and take that and see how that goes. After that if it doesn't work my guess is he will have me take a break and see how things go. I know this routine like the back of my hand.
I want to live for my family, but more importantly I want to want to live for me. I am still here and much to my shock and awe still clawing at the mud as it crumbles down around me, as I slide and dig my feet into the side of the mountain. I am not sure if the slide will stop and I will be able to crawl to the top and see a panoramic view or if I will be stuck in that place, sliding ceased but hanging on for dear life, or if I will let go.
I fear each of those outcomes equally.