Radio Silence
Apologies for the gross negligence I've given the Art [ahem] of Blogging for the last week-plus. It's been a whirlwind of the most momentous variety, having my treasure qfu in town. Every day packs a wallop, and I will be writing about this week and its weighty impact on my life. I only wish I could return a tenth of the service that W. renders to me when we're together. She's my muse, mentor and secret-wife. Shh. Don't tell Ben.
I will get to the stories of this last week, but today I want to talk about Health.
I've been stressed and depressed in a way quite unfamiliar to me for too long a spell. I'm no stranger to stress nor depression, but I've always prided myself that I could bootstrap my way out of doldrums and nadirs with a combination of willpower, attitude adjustments, Bach and Chopin, and dietary changes. These elixirs of change have not served me this time, and my fitful sleep and back-breaking days alarm me for my powerlessness over them.
So Ben scheduled an appointment for me with his doctor Thursday last.
I went. I filled out the new patient forms. The secretary looked at my insurance card and asked, "Is Dr. Bensdoctor on your network?"
"Hmm," I replied, "that's a good question. Let me make a few phone calls." Turns out, no, Dr. Bensdoctor isn't on my plan. Pooh. I found a doctor at Touro who is, trotted over to his office and made another appointment for Wednesday of this week.
Come Wednesday it went like this:
Dr. Toddsdoctor: "What can I do for you?"
Patient: "My visit serves three purposes. 1) I don't have a G.P. and it would be nice to have one. 2) I haven't had a physical in probably 20 years. I'll be 40 in about 27 seconds and thought it might be a nice time for a checkup. 3) I'm confounded and paralyzed by depression, anxiety and stress and wanted to discuss options with you."
He asked me a series of health-related questions, to which my answers were invariably "no," and I started feeling better right then.
"Ask me more questions I can say 'no' to, please. This is just great."
I explained my depressive tendencies, and my erstwhile ability to pull myself out of a funk in a timely manner and get back on with the act of Living a Life. I imparted my horror of mind-numbing drugs (didn't mention that I strongly feel drugs should only be taken recreationally, and that to need a drug is a sad state indeed). "I'm sickened by Americans' eagerness to take a pill for every little thing that ails them, but I've exhausted my other tricks and feel like maybe I should try something."
"Yah, those drugs will show up in the water soon," Dr. Toddsdoctor agreed.
After some discussion on the nature of my disorder, and after a lengthy and almost angry lecture on my smoking, we landed on giving Lexapro a shot. This is a new one for me, and I left with equal parts hope, dread and shame for succumbing to such a common cure.
(Your personal experiences with Lexapro are welcomed anecdotes in my Comments section, if you're of a mind. These drugs differ for everyone, but I'm always curious about others' stories.)
I'm on Day Three of taking this SSRI, and I am noticing changes. Huge changes, actually, and I'm parsing through each aspect of the effects of this drug to analyze whether it's the one for me or not. I'm not convinced either way yet.
There is probably an Adjustment Period, as there are with most SSRI's to be taken daily, before the road smooths out and you feel like you're "supposed" to feel on the drug. It's too early for "supposed to feel" yet, and I'm still riding out the bumps and dips. They're creepy, and for the most part I don't like them.
The primary effects that are manifesting are dizziness, being somewhat "out of it," and a numbness of soul. The up-side is that it's true I'm not as stressed and paralyzed by depression as I have been, but if this will be the cost of relative peace, it seems a little steep. There's very little "me" left in me. Ugh.
For example: double birthday party for marrus and victorine on Wednesday, the first Lexapro day. A delightful dinner and Alan's patentedly amazing cocktails at Iris with Marrus, then another cocktail party for Gwen at Attiki. I was extremely pleased to be in the presence of such good friends for both of these events, but my concentration was shattered and spotty, and I felt disoriented and out of place. My usual sparkling dinner wit was on the wane, and I was mostly silent through both events. I would have a conversation with a friend, and five minutes into it wonder what we were talking about, then have to sit down for the vertiginous woozy spell.
If this is how Lexapro wants to treat me, then we're not going to have a very nice relationship.
HOWEVER. Just to utterly confuse matters, I began taking the drug on the same day that I made the beginning of a decision to quit smoking. Was it Dr. Toddsdoctor's vituperative lecture that spawned this idea? Perhaps. Perhaps it's my 40th milestone fast approaching, and recalling my vague promise to myself in my 20s, "I won't be smoking at 40." Or maybe it's some other reason. At any rate, I've taken the beginning steps to the long, ugly road of kicking out my 20 friends in a box.
Last time I quit many years ago, I went pretty much cold turkey, sucking on weak nic lozenges from time to time, but not at the suggested rate. That resulted in a traumatic and frightening event where I blacked out one night and busted up my house while Nathan and Rickilane tried to subdue me. I can't have that again, so I'm taking a slower, more methodical approach this time.
Cutting down. I don't need to smoke a pack a day. I hear those who've never felt the hunger for nicotine in every corpuscle say, "You don't need to smoke at all, you idiot." No. You're wrong. Right now I do. The combination of stress and depression and the effects of this new drug do not allow for a third hugely-traumatic ingredient to be tossed into this already too-spicy trauma-salad.
Unfortunately, too many years of smoking has instilled a biological need for nicotine, and the process of pulling away from it is best done in little steps. This is not like pulling a Band-Aid.
So on Wednesday I began a new drug, and I cut my smoking in half. Actually I'm down about 65%, which is not really a baby step at all - it's a huge step, but there's my hubris and ambition for ya.
The drastically reduced nicotine input is also messing with my head, making me dizzy, out-of-it, shattered concentration, et al. So what symptoms do I attribute to less smoking and what belongs to the Lexapro? I'm a retard for doing both of these at the same time, but something is telling me that now is the time for both of these odious tasks.
Throughout this all, I've got qfu to bounce stuff off of, and she's proven (once again) to be an invaluable asset of a friend.
And Ben. Always Ben. My patient, caring, supportive boyfriend. My god, how fucking lucky am I to be loved to an almost unconditional point by this amazing man? I'm difficult these days, and he's rolling with it.
I only hope I can roll with this too.
I will get to the stories of this last week, but today I want to talk about Health.
I've been stressed and depressed in a way quite unfamiliar to me for too long a spell. I'm no stranger to stress nor depression, but I've always prided myself that I could bootstrap my way out of doldrums and nadirs with a combination of willpower, attitude adjustments, Bach and Chopin, and dietary changes. These elixirs of change have not served me this time, and my fitful sleep and back-breaking days alarm me for my powerlessness over them.
So Ben scheduled an appointment for me with his doctor Thursday last.
I went. I filled out the new patient forms. The secretary looked at my insurance card and asked, "Is Dr. Bensdoctor on your network?"
"Hmm," I replied, "that's a good question. Let me make a few phone calls." Turns out, no, Dr. Bensdoctor isn't on my plan. Pooh. I found a doctor at Touro who is, trotted over to his office and made another appointment for Wednesday of this week.
Come Wednesday it went like this:
Dr. Toddsdoctor: "What can I do for you?"
Patient: "My visit serves three purposes. 1) I don't have a G.P. and it would be nice to have one. 2) I haven't had a physical in probably 20 years. I'll be 40 in about 27 seconds and thought it might be a nice time for a checkup. 3) I'm confounded and paralyzed by depression, anxiety and stress and wanted to discuss options with you."
He asked me a series of health-related questions, to which my answers were invariably "no," and I started feeling better right then.
"Ask me more questions I can say 'no' to, please. This is just great."
I explained my depressive tendencies, and my erstwhile ability to pull myself out of a funk in a timely manner and get back on with the act of Living a Life. I imparted my horror of mind-numbing drugs (didn't mention that I strongly feel drugs should only be taken recreationally, and that to need a drug is a sad state indeed). "I'm sickened by Americans' eagerness to take a pill for every little thing that ails them, but I've exhausted my other tricks and feel like maybe I should try something."
"Yah, those drugs will show up in the water soon," Dr. Toddsdoctor agreed.
After some discussion on the nature of my disorder, and after a lengthy and almost angry lecture on my smoking, we landed on giving Lexapro a shot. This is a new one for me, and I left with equal parts hope, dread and shame for succumbing to such a common cure.
(Your personal experiences with Lexapro are welcomed anecdotes in my Comments section, if you're of a mind. These drugs differ for everyone, but I'm always curious about others' stories.)
I'm on Day Three of taking this SSRI, and I am noticing changes. Huge changes, actually, and I'm parsing through each aspect of the effects of this drug to analyze whether it's the one for me or not. I'm not convinced either way yet.
There is probably an Adjustment Period, as there are with most SSRI's to be taken daily, before the road smooths out and you feel like you're "supposed" to feel on the drug. It's too early for "supposed to feel" yet, and I'm still riding out the bumps and dips. They're creepy, and for the most part I don't like them.
The primary effects that are manifesting are dizziness, being somewhat "out of it," and a numbness of soul. The up-side is that it's true I'm not as stressed and paralyzed by depression as I have been, but if this will be the cost of relative peace, it seems a little steep. There's very little "me" left in me. Ugh.
For example: double birthday party for marrus and victorine on Wednesday, the first Lexapro day. A delightful dinner and Alan's patentedly amazing cocktails at Iris with Marrus, then another cocktail party for Gwen at Attiki. I was extremely pleased to be in the presence of such good friends for both of these events, but my concentration was shattered and spotty, and I felt disoriented and out of place. My usual sparkling dinner wit was on the wane, and I was mostly silent through both events. I would have a conversation with a friend, and five minutes into it wonder what we were talking about, then have to sit down for the vertiginous woozy spell.
If this is how Lexapro wants to treat me, then we're not going to have a very nice relationship.
HOWEVER. Just to utterly confuse matters, I began taking the drug on the same day that I made the beginning of a decision to quit smoking. Was it Dr. Toddsdoctor's vituperative lecture that spawned this idea? Perhaps. Perhaps it's my 40th milestone fast approaching, and recalling my vague promise to myself in my 20s, "I won't be smoking at 40." Or maybe it's some other reason. At any rate, I've taken the beginning steps to the long, ugly road of kicking out my 20 friends in a box.
Last time I quit many years ago, I went pretty much cold turkey, sucking on weak nic lozenges from time to time, but not at the suggested rate. That resulted in a traumatic and frightening event where I blacked out one night and busted up my house while Nathan and Rickilane tried to subdue me. I can't have that again, so I'm taking a slower, more methodical approach this time.
Cutting down. I don't need to smoke a pack a day. I hear those who've never felt the hunger for nicotine in every corpuscle say, "You don't need to smoke at all, you idiot." No. You're wrong. Right now I do. The combination of stress and depression and the effects of this new drug do not allow for a third hugely-traumatic ingredient to be tossed into this already too-spicy trauma-salad.
Unfortunately, too many years of smoking has instilled a biological need for nicotine, and the process of pulling away from it is best done in little steps. This is not like pulling a Band-Aid.
So on Wednesday I began a new drug, and I cut my smoking in half. Actually I'm down about 65%, which is not really a baby step at all - it's a huge step, but there's my hubris and ambition for ya.
The drastically reduced nicotine input is also messing with my head, making me dizzy, out-of-it, shattered concentration, et al. So what symptoms do I attribute to less smoking and what belongs to the Lexapro? I'm a retard for doing both of these at the same time, but something is telling me that now is the time for both of these odious tasks.
Throughout this all, I've got qfu to bounce stuff off of, and she's proven (once again) to be an invaluable asset of a friend.
And Ben. Always Ben. My patient, caring, supportive boyfriend. My god, how fucking lucky am I to be loved to an almost unconditional point by this amazing man? I'm difficult these days, and he's rolling with it.
I only hope I can roll with this too.