This is one of them many things about bipolar disorder that I really, really hate. You're going along thinking you're doing just fine, and then, like a good little patient, you keep your scheduled appointment with your shrink. Not all bipolar patients are as compliant as I, but than most bipolar patients don't live this long. So, there I am bringing her up to date on my situation, and it turns out that the old school anti-depressant I've been doing so very well on is implicated in "cardiac events." It's also implicated in fat, but aren't most of them? Anyway, now I'm doing the Alice in Wonderland bit, where she takes a bite of this, and it makes her really fat, and she take a bite of that, and it makes her disappear. Did you even notice that I disappeared yesterday? Thanks Randal and Beach, at least now I know who my real friends are.
So now my brains are so scrambled I can't read, write, or stay awake long enough to do much of anything. Just as I was going down for the count today, shortly after waking up, I had the foresight to call the one friend I thought might call, and tell her I was taking a "nap," so if she had anything to say to me, say it quick, and then don't wake me up with a phone call, please. I thought of calling my other friend--yeah, I am that popular--but got too sleepy to pull it off. And who doesn't like a good nap, anyway. Well, three or six hours into mine, the phone goes off like a bomb, right next to my head. I come out of my sleep and croak, softly, so as not to hurt myself, "Hello???" When what I really wanted to do was scream, "Who the fuck is this!!!" Well, of course it was my other friend, the one I didn't call to tell I was taking a nap. "She says, "You sound strange, are you alright?" To which I answer, "I'm taking a nap, you woke me up." The second half of that was perfectly obvious, but somehow needed to be said. Then she said, "Well, I'm worried about you, you don't sound like yourself." I just should have said, "I'm not myself. You have the wrong number," but she'd have never fallen for that one. So I said, "I'm not exactly myself, I'm seesawing between two competing drugs, and my brains are scrambled." To which she replied, "Well, you missed Olbermann." The TV was on and sure enough, there was Dan Abrams talking to that annoying twit, Contessa Brewer. Then my friend said, something that sounded like bla, bla, bla. It was all very well intentioned and for my own good I'm sure, but god, how I wanted to sleep on and on into the night. Fortunately, Olbermann gets a second hour following Dan, so the day wasn't wasted after all, but my nap sure was.
If you're thinking I sound like I'm slipping into depression, this is what it feels like, but it probably won't last very long. In the early days of real antidepressant therapy, they just slammed you on a full dose and that was that. Now they treat us like the delicate flowers that we must be, and ease us off one drug as they ease us on another. Me, I prefer the old way. Get it over with quick. But I'm a good little patient, and I follow my doctors instructions.
In the meantime, you will not know who you're going to get, Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. Good luck, it's bound to be a bumpy ride.
The Stigma Of “Diet Doctors”
4 minutes ago