Stoically surviving the side effects

I guess since I've completely outed myself here, I can candidly talk about my experience with mental illness and not feel like anyone is gaining more intimate knowledge.

There's an article in the Times today (link on post title) about a failed clinical trial using an antipsychotic, Zyprexa, to prevent full blown psychotic episodes in adolescents expected to develop schizophrenia. (Little editorial note here: Anyone who thinks that has something to do with multiple personalities can leave right now and spend a little time researching the current DSM ~ google it.) The problem with the study, beyond the very small sample size, was the number of individuals that dropped out. See, Zyprexa, or olanzapine, has a few side effects, dry mouth, sleepiness, dizziness, constipation, but the one that the adolescents just couldn't handle was the weight gain. I believe the average weight gain was 20 lbs or so, for those they were able to keep track of.

Welcome to the world of chronic disease! If the symptoms aren't putting you through the ringer, the side effects certainly will!! We, as a culture, as a medical establishment, are willing to accept a certain amount of suffering in the journey to a cure, it all depends on how bad the ailment it. No one would accept the side effects of chemotherapy to treat a runny nose or a run of the mill head ache, but cancer? Sign me up for a full destruction of my immune system, rounds of radiation, poison, hair loss, vomiting, surgical removal of multiple parts of my body, make me feel like I'm really dying, so I'll appreciate it that much more when I don't!

So where does mental illness fit into all this? It depends where you've been. Have you reached the point of hypomania where your thoughts are moving so fast that you can't complete any of them and the only solution you can see is cutting off your head? Have you stood on a bridge and believed that if you climbed over the railing and stepped off it you would float gently down on the breeze like a leaf or a sheet of paper? Have you ever felt so numb that you begin to believe that you're not real anymore? That you need to cut yourself just to make sure you still bleed? Have you ever packed up every sharp object in your house and made someone else take them home because you just don't feel safe with them around? Have you ever expended ever ounce of your energy just to get out of bed? Have you ever been so close to death that you could smell,feel and taste it?

So, yeah, this is or was, at some point, my life. How many drugs have I been on? Too many to remember, but let's just say most of them. I've been on enough drugs to experience dry mouth, constipation, diarrhea, hypotension, dizziness, hand tremor, urinary retention (a personal favorite), acute hypertensive crisis (with a diet that excludes just about everything in the average American's food intake), nausea, vomiting, hair loss, weight gain (try 65 lbs), excess sweating (a hard one to explain), blurred vision, and last but not least, complete shut down of the thyroid. Have I complained? Actually, not until the thyroid. My mother called my doctor and ratted me out on the vomiting. I was just going to be all brave and compliant. And the drug with the wonderful weight gain, which I started right after losing the weight gained while operating without a thyroid, had no warnings about weight gain when I started taking it ~ it was better than the lithium that didn't agree with my thyroid. Now, of course, it comes with major weight gain warnings and has also been identified as tetragenic. Good to know, huh? And I did the MAOI route, with the diet from hell. Had oral surgery without novacaine (which contain epinepherine) and got a much shorter acting anesthetic instead. Got tired of all the starting and stopping and injections and figured it would just be best to get it over with. Word to the wise: NEVER have oral surgery without anesthetic, lots of anesthetic. I think I scared the hot shot oral surgeon (with an ego the size of Outer and Inner Mongolia) half to death because I looked near death at the end of the procedure. I experienced an acute hypertensive crisis in the middle of class (ate something that contained chicken broth by accident) and instead of going to the ER, popped the rescue drug, nifedipine, and went to my next class to take a midterm. I had studied for the exam and I didn't want to be taken to the local hospital where I would most likely be killed in the ER. Yes, my doctor nearly took my head off. I could have had a stroke. I should have passed out due to the major drop in blood pressure ~ the only thing we can figure out is that my concentration level on the exam prevented it. I also took a final exam with no thyroid function. Not a great experience. But I still got an A.

But what's the point then? I would rather live through all of that again then to have to spend my life experiencing my illness full on. There was a time when I believed that you had to endure a certain amount of suffering to acquire health, like there was some strange balance that must be kept. My psychiatrist blamed the idea on my Irish Catholic upbringing. It's like the Shawn Colvin song, If I Were Brave ~ Is it something you should know, did you never do your best; Would you be saved if you were brave and just tried harder But disease and cure, or treatment (since there is no cure for me), isn't about proving yourself worthy of health. If it was, there would be a cure, wouldn't there?

My mother always told me that life isn't fair ~ she had no idea. But you pick up your pieces and you keep moving forwards. Why? Because you've already seen what's behind you and you have to believe that there's something better ahead, besides, if you did go back, nothing you remember would still be there. Everything moves forward. That's just the way it works. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes the fact that it keeps moving is the only thing that you have to hold on to. Sometimes you can just let go and enjoy the ride, see where it takes you. But you only get to do that when you're not trying to jump off.

I've lost the weight. I don't have the tremor anymore. But my blood pressure is low and my balance is shot. And I'm still exhausted. I also get head aches a lot and migraines too. I still cry a little too easily, but I also laugh and I smile a genuine smile. I'm still frightened of what's coming next, but it seems to be a long ways away, not creeping up behind me. Am I well? As well as I get, I suppose. That's the problem with mental illness. You tend to forget where you end and the illness begins and the people who don't know you well, don't even know there's a difference. But you still know, or at least you hope you remember. The good stuff is much easier to forget. But as long as you keep pushing through the bad, you get more of the good.