About a month ago, after I started taking Cymbalta, I had a week to ten-day lift in my mood. The change made me think that maybe I was going manic - no such luck. Then, beginning last week I began to sink into depression again. By Sunday it was bad - I spent most of the day in bed, unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. I called off work Monday and Tuesday because I was both physically and psychologically ill and fortunately work was cancelled because of weather on Wednesday. In total, I spent Sunday through Wednesday laying bed staring into space. Physically I'm feeling better, but I'm still very depressed.
I saw my shrink yesterday morning and told him this sad tale of woe. He doubled the Cymbalta and said he was going to talk to the ECT Department about my case in the afternoon. I see him again on Tuesday to see if the increased meds helped and to discuss ECT. Even if we decide to go with ECT, there are a couple of logistical hurdles to get over. First I'll have to get my insurance to pay for it - not an easy trick. Next I'll have to get off Depakote because it's an anti-convulsant and ECT is designed to induce convulsions. Finally, I'll have to complete the course of treatment - whatever that turns out to be - in the next five weeks before Spring classes begin and I have to teach. The short-term memory loss would really screw with lecturing, grading, etc. But then again so would this depression. I talked to my sponsor (an M.D.) about all this and he is really in favor of ECT. I just think he wants to see get zapped on the table. He's one sick fuck! (We don't end up in AA because we're well and doing a splendid job running our lives...)
This just fucking sucks. I'm so fucking sick of being either depressed or on guard for mania. I know mania is dangerous for me and at its worst just as dysfunctional as depression, but Jesus fucking Christ I am sick of being down in the bunker with my helmet on waiting for the next mortar round to land. I NEED a little mania right now. What's more, my wife watches me like a hawk for signs of mania. I know she is doing what she (and the docs) think is right and that she means well, but some times I'm afraid to show any kind of enjoyment of enthusiasm for fear that she will read it as hypomania or mania and freak out.
So the doc is probing me yesterday and it wasn't until he started asking the right questions that I realized how low I've sunk:
"Have you been having suicidal thoughts?" Well yeah, kinda...
"Have you craved alcohol or drugs?" Have I briefly thought about some wine or shooting dope and just checking out for a few hours? Yeah, I have.
"Are you still smoke-free?" No.
"Are you seeing or hearing things that are not there?" Yeah, I think so. I see what seem to be amorphous grey cats running by on the floor and walls out of the corner of my eye. I can hear their claws.
All of my responses elicited bad looks and lots of note taking on the doctor's part. I'm nervous that he is going to want me hospitalized.
On the up side (I'm trying to be positive) I spent yesterday working with a friend at my usual coffee shop and finished the book proposal that's been hanging over my head and sent it out. I meet with the guys who will make a decision about it on Monday. I hope I can fake some enthusiasm by then because I really need that project - both the work and the money.
I do that a lot: take my laptop to the coffee shop and work. A fellow crazy friend of mine also brings his work and we just sit and do our seperate things. There's very little conversation but somehow it helps just to be with someone you know as opposed to all on your own. And, it definitely beats being in my dungeon (basement home office) all alone all day trying to fight through depression to get work done.
This is my last day filling in at my wife's office so I will undoubtedly post again later in the day.
Dr. K
I saw my shrink yesterday morning and told him this sad tale of woe. He doubled the Cymbalta and said he was going to talk to the ECT Department about my case in the afternoon. I see him again on Tuesday to see if the increased meds helped and to discuss ECT. Even if we decide to go with ECT, there are a couple of logistical hurdles to get over. First I'll have to get my insurance to pay for it - not an easy trick. Next I'll have to get off Depakote because it's an anti-convulsant and ECT is designed to induce convulsions. Finally, I'll have to complete the course of treatment - whatever that turns out to be - in the next five weeks before Spring classes begin and I have to teach. The short-term memory loss would really screw with lecturing, grading, etc. But then again so would this depression. I talked to my sponsor (an M.D.) about all this and he is really in favor of ECT. I just think he wants to see get zapped on the table. He's one sick fuck! (We don't end up in AA because we're well and doing a splendid job running our lives...)
This just fucking sucks. I'm so fucking sick of being either depressed or on guard for mania. I know mania is dangerous for me and at its worst just as dysfunctional as depression, but Jesus fucking Christ I am sick of being down in the bunker with my helmet on waiting for the next mortar round to land. I NEED a little mania right now. What's more, my wife watches me like a hawk for signs of mania. I know she is doing what she (and the docs) think is right and that she means well, but some times I'm afraid to show any kind of enjoyment of enthusiasm for fear that she will read it as hypomania or mania and freak out.
So the doc is probing me yesterday and it wasn't until he started asking the right questions that I realized how low I've sunk:
"Have you been having suicidal thoughts?" Well yeah, kinda...
"Have you craved alcohol or drugs?" Have I briefly thought about some wine or shooting dope and just checking out for a few hours? Yeah, I have.
"Are you still smoke-free?" No.
"Are you seeing or hearing things that are not there?" Yeah, I think so. I see what seem to be amorphous grey cats running by on the floor and walls out of the corner of my eye. I can hear their claws.
All of my responses elicited bad looks and lots of note taking on the doctor's part. I'm nervous that he is going to want me hospitalized.
On the up side (I'm trying to be positive) I spent yesterday working with a friend at my usual coffee shop and finished the book proposal that's been hanging over my head and sent it out. I meet with the guys who will make a decision about it on Monday. I hope I can fake some enthusiasm by then because I really need that project - both the work and the money.
I do that a lot: take my laptop to the coffee shop and work. A fellow crazy friend of mine also brings his work and we just sit and do our seperate things. There's very little conversation but somehow it helps just to be with someone you know as opposed to all on your own. And, it definitely beats being in my dungeon (basement home office) all alone all day trying to fight through depression to get work done.
This is my last day filling in at my wife's office so I will undoubtedly post again later in the day.
Dr. K
5 comments:
Please take care of yourself...Cymbalta itself can be enough to drive one absolutely batshit (at least it eventually did to me, then again, I was going through a very rough period in life and just happened to be on Cymbalta when I decided to order up enough chemicals to wipe out myself and a small country should I have desired to; obviously I opted not to kill myself...either that, or I have been blogging from beyond the grave for the past year). ;-)
Hang in their buddy, and keep us posted on how things go. I don't know a damn thing about ECT, but I'm curious to find out if it works out for you.
Checkin' back at ya later,
ariK
Thanks Doc - I appreciate the feedback and the support.
For blogging from the grave your voice doesn't seem at all muffled. That's probably a good sign...
Yours in despair,
Dr. K
Hey Dr. K...I'm so sorry you're not getting any better - I had such hope for Cymbalta for you. It sounds like you've done your research on ECT, and it's something I never would have thought I'd consider for myself, HOWEVER. If it were a life or death situation and I had been suicidal for months,ECT would start looking pretty good if the doctor told me it would bring me some much needed relief. School and everything else can wait - perhaps worrying about how well you can lecture and grade can take a back burner for now? We're talking about being able to LIVE, right? Shouldn't that have #1 priority, without a strict timeline?
Mark watches me sometimes for mania too - as if I can't just LAUGH and be okay. As if I'm not going to have an affair! As if I can't pick up after myself! Ha! We CAN be trusted, you know, and it drives me crazy all on its' own, feeling like I'm in a cuckoo's nest.
You hit the nail on the head with that one. It sucks to constantly be analyzed and barraged with questions, like they've been keeping it in until they can't stand it anymore. However, who in the world would actually WANT to live with me is beyond me...
Please keep writing...I just want to know you're okay....
"NEED SOME MANIA"
Dear God. You GET it. I miss the manic episodes. No one really gets why...at least, not in my house. When I have them now, I cherish them, despite how insane they may make me. It's better than the depression any day.
CP
http://ontheothercheek.blogspot.com/
Where are you, and out of curiousity, do you like planes?
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