yuuo: (I'm just a poor boy from a poor family)
Good idea: Psychostimulants when you have medical brain fog problems.

Bad idea: Psychostimulants when you have a psychotic disorder.

Help I am in hell.
yuuo: (Putting the 'fun' in dysfunctional)
I need to be a little better about updating here, but I can only handle so much at once, and the past few days have been 'sit on youtube, facebook, or twitter, or sometimes all three at once and ignore the outside world' days.

I got in on Wednesday with my pdoc and after some back and forth, I convinced him to try putting me back on the Seroquel instead of finding something new- he agreed the Zyprexa wasn't doing me any good. I told him that if I had to, my PCP would be willing to prescribe the Flexeril I needed to counter Seroquel's leg cramp problems. He was doubtful, but I just kinda looked at him and said "you don't know Dr. [PCP name]." He went "okay!" and put me back on Seroquel. Mood wise, I'm feeling so much better. Sleep wise.... eeeeeeh. I slept twelve hours today when I wanted to get eight. But, unlike with the Zyprexa, I was actually sleeping, instead of just laying in bed and wanting to die. I clearly needed it.

I'll have to figure out how to regulate my sleep on this stuff, but I can already feel the mood difference, and it's fantastic.

I'm still in a sleepy fog, but I'm working through it. Now I gotta convince the cats to stop fighting over my 'lap'. Seriously, Bucky, you had me all day, there was no reason to chase off Moon. And Loki, quit trying to knock over my photo of Josh.

Cats.

Now, to try to write.

.suuuuuck.

Sep. 11th, 2017 04:34 pm
yuuo: (Lay my head under the water)
It's a bad day. I woke up at about ten, but stayed in bed until 3:30, because I just... the thought of being upright and trying to function felt physically painful. I don't remember the last time I was this low. I only got up when I did because Wife came home from therapy and I needed to be up for her sake. She needs a functional partner, someone who doesn't spend all day in bed. So I'll be up when she's around for her sake.

This medicine shit is ridiculous.

I want to disappear. I want to curl in bed and just... disappear. Not exist. I'm not actively suicidal, but I wouldn't turn down not waking back up.

Depression and medicine roulette is so much fun.
yuuo: (You knew the deal- no one gives a damn)
It's been... not quiet, but not busy, either. It's been mood problems. I should've posted on Thursday, when I had my first psychiatrist appointment after ending partial, but I was so upset by what happened in that appointment that I couldn't, and the last few days have been hell.

I got taken off my Seroquel. A drug that was working. A drug that had elevated my mood, had kept the noises at bay, and that wasn't causing a manic burst.

Why was I taken off Seroquel?

Because I reported that it caused leg cramps at night, and asked for a small-dose muscle relaxer to counter it until my body adjusted.

This is, apparently, too much to ask of my body, so the doctor decided to cut me off a drug that was working, and put me on a different one that supposedly did the same things. So far, I am not impressed. In fact, so far, I'm going into Seroquel withdrawal, which has my mood cycling so fast that I'm screaming in one minute, then literally on the verge of tears the next. I can't stay asleep. I feel like banging my head on the wall. I can't focus.

How much of that is the fact that I fucking cold-turkeyed Seroquel, and how much is natural me with no working meds, I have no idea at this point, because it's been so long since I haven't had at least one working med, that I don't remember if this was normal for me or not.

I just know this fucking sucks.

I give this two more days to get better. If I'm no better- or god forbid, worse -by Tuesday, I'm calling them and telling them I need in sooner so they can change my med back. I can't live like this. My wife shouldn't have to, since she's the one getting snapped at the most, simply by virtue of being around me the most. If they won't change my med, I'm switching docs. This is unacceptable. I told them very specifically that Seroquel is working, but apparently, having any side effects- especially a rather inconsequential one -is too much and I shouldn't take that anymore!

Like, fucking really? I told them I was on Flexeril, but my prescription was almost gone and had no refills left, but I knew it worked and I responded favorably to it. But since he can't prescribe non-head drugs (is that really a thing? he's an MD for gods' sakes), he decided to just take me off Seroquel. Instead of giving me a chance to ask my PCP to renew my prescription. I wasn't even given a fucking option. Just nope, cold turkey it.

Some symptoms of Seroquel withdrawal are (ones I have are bolded):

-Nausea and vomiting
-Agitation or anxiety
-Difficulty with concentration
Insomnia despite intense fatigue
-Depression
Dizziness
Racing or slowed heartbeat
-Headaches
-Mood swings
Psychosis
Suicidal thoughts or behaviors

My psychiatrist is really fucking lucky that last one isn't bolded. If it were, I'd be in in-patient right now, and I'd really love to not go back.


In unrelated news, I showered and shaved without going two weeks between showers today. Progress, I guess.
yuuo: (The shape of love)
So Taylor Swift's new song, eh?

(Shut up, no making fun of her in my space. I've disliked a lot about her, but after the way she stood up in that trial over being sexually assaulted, she will forever be badass in my brain.)

Anyway, last day of the second week of partial.

Like I said before, we have two new people, both eighteen and way too young to be there. Why are children there? What kind of fucked up world puts children in the in-patient ward and then to partial?

Helmet Head and her bestie, 13 Funerals (long story I can't go into), were discharged today, and good riddance. Even if Helmet Head hadn't pissed me off by shaming me (which she didn't do again, though I notice she didn't apologize), she had... I don't know what all was going on with her, but damn, her energy levels. She was constantly bouncing in her seat, and it was starting to jack up my anxiety levels. I'll feel more comfortable with her gone.

Babies seem to think that it's okay to say "I'm on Abilify, what is that? An anti-psychotic?! But I ain't crazy!"

BITCH. FUCK YOU.

The guy that threw the cards at me last week has remarkably chilled down and he's actually pretty nice to talk to.

The Seroquel seems... to be working? In that I'm no longer completely suicidally depressed, just partly, and I haven't had a return of the voices or violence.

It is helpful, however, to have someone you can call and cry at when an anxiety attack is impending, especially if you have reason to fear you'll take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it.

Example time!

Last night (Thursday at the time of this writing), Wife wanted to go to Food Net- I've mentioned it before, where Angry Guy scared the shit out of me. Since we were dead last last time, we would automatically be first this week. I didn't want to go. At all. I didn't believe that even being first, we'd get anything good, and another huge reason: crowded rooms like that sound like my audio hallucinations.

I don't really hear distinct individual voices. Sometimes I do- I got one guy that likes to tell me proudly that he's got a bag of shit, and a little girl who just says 'hello' over and over, but I'm really sick if I'm hearing them. Usually, what I hear, is human white noise. It's like being at a party, with a lot of people talking all at once with each other, and you're in the next room. You know those are human voices you're hearing, you just can't really make out anything being said.

So crowded, small spaces like Food Net are basically my personal hell. And Wife wanted to go.

I wanted to scream at her and tear her down until she changed her mind, but I knew that if we could snag some good food, we really did need it, and if we were first, we'd be in and out much faster than last time. But mostly that we needed the food.

So instead of freaking out at her, I called her sister and cried at her. She had no words of wisdom, but just having her hear me out and not get mad and say "it's okay, I understand" was enough. That's all I needed. And it kept me from starting a fight with my wife that could've easily escalated to violence again.

This is why a support system is so important. Make sure you have one. If you don't know anyone in your life you can talk to, PM me. I can't promise anything, but I can say "I understand it hurts." Because I do. No matter how irrational our pain is, it is real, and I understand.

Like I've said before, we're in this together.
yuuo: (It's woven in my soul)
Off the topic of partial, because I've had to meditate twice now tonight to settle down from the hurt, I went to my psychiatrist today. I am super relieved that he took me off the Latuda- it was making me super nauseous and was giving me brain shocks and also not doing shit for my depression -and put me on Seroquel. It's an anti-psychotic that is known and used for treating bipolar depression and bipolar mania. Which means it can treat my psychosis, as well as my depression, without a lot of risk of causing a manic relapse.

It'll make me super sleepy, but goddamnit, I'm willing to take that over wanting to drive myself into a ditch.

So no more Latuda, time to settle in for the first time with my Seroquel. I will keep you all posted on how that's working as time goes on.

.weight.

Aug. 22nd, 2017 04:25 pm
yuuo: (I've been up all night drinking)
I don't make a secret of the fact that I'm overweight. Anyone who's seen a picture of me can tell you I am. I won't tell you what I weigh, but it's not good. And anti-psychotics, especially the second generation ones, tend to make you gain weight.

I went to my regular doctor today to see about allergy medicine. She prescribed Allegra-D, and had a brief lecture about how I can lose weight with a life style change, because my meds would just make me gain back whatever I lost on gastric bypass..? So I guess life style is enough to counter that? But a surgery that's known for helping morbidly obese people like me drop weight wouldn't..?

Also, she knows I can't eat a 'variety of foods' because I'm on goddamn food stamps.

So I basically left partial early today to get lectured over something I can't help.

Between that and the worsening onset of depression, I want to curl up in a ball in my bed and cry.

I'd gone to the doctor, I suppose I should say, to get prescribed something for my persistent allergies. She prescribed Allegra-D. Since that's now available OTC, my insurance won't pay for it, and it was like. Seventy bucks. With a discount card, it was fifty. I can buy the straight decongestant for fiveish, after tax, but for whatever reason, my card declined, even though I supposedly had eighteen, the last I looked.

I almost crashed the car just to let it kill me. Or at least wanted to. Very badly.

Right now I have Full Of Grace by Sarah McLachlan stuck in my head and when I start getting her stuck in my head, you know it's damn bad.

I think I'll disappear for awhile now. Sleep, hide, something.

Depression is awesome, folks.
yuuo: (I won't let you fall apart)
I feel drugged. Tired. Slept all night, right up until the alarm just about, still feel sick as hell. Is this withdrawal? Because it sucks.

Is it bad that I hope they put me on Effexor just because it makes one of the people in partial bright and happy and I want that?
yuuo: (I don't need to be the king of the world)
Ugh, that song's stuck in my head now.

Partial continues to go well. There was... not quite a spat, but something that angered me deeply that I can't get too far into, due to privacy reasons, but it came down to one person's opinions on suicide and 'choice' and I was ready to go off my nut at that person. I don't think this person is actually mentally ill, they're in for a near nervous breakdown due to extreme grief (lots of losses very rapidly in the last few years, one in the last month, I think), so I don't think this person fully understands what it's like to battle your own brain day in, day out, day in, day out, all your goddamn life, with little to no hope of recovering.

'Choice' my ass.

Speaking of, we watched an old video called Dark Glasses and Kaleidoscopes, which I saw last time I was in, about bipolar disorder. It's quite a bit dated, they were still calling it manic depressive, and it was hosted by the guy that played Mister Cleaver in Leave It To Beaver, although he was significantly older in this video than he had been in the show. But that dates it a bit, I think.

It's not a bad one, and it explains a lot why some people can't take anti-depressants, if they have manic tendencies, or even full blown mania. Anti-depressants can trigger a 'high' like that, which I think is what my doctor decided was going on with my Fetzima. Which makes me question my diagnosis of schizoaffective (yeah, that was officially changed from schizophrenia to that, but since it's so closely related, I maintain my advocacy for schizophrenia) as the depressive type. I can't help but wonder if it's not bipolar type.

Which would very much suck, as that makes anti-depressants a tricky game. I can't function without them, but I apparently can't function with them. "I hear there's a fine line between crazy and sad, but I can't tell the difference up close."

But this video talking about mania, and especially hypomania, and how it can seem like a 'natural personality' to someone, particularly the person with the disorder, and some people were asking that inevitable question that we all ask and get asked (frequently) - "When you take the sick away, who am I supposed to be?"

And it's not an easy question to answer. If you've spent so much time swinging between two extremes, who's that person in the middle? Does that person exist? How can you tell what's 'normal' and what's the illness? I think that might be harder for some disorders than others to answer, but we all ask it. And it's not one we can easily answer, and it's one that haunts us and chews on us.

But it is infuriating when an outsider asks it. When someone who's not there, who's not in our heads, who's not in these same places we are, asks "how do you know that's who you really are on the drugs?" or makes some stupid comment about how the drugs make you someone you're not.

NO.

Just like with suicide and choices, until you are down here, drowning in this mud and blood and these tears, you do not get to tell us that we have to stay off of medicines because of our 'natural personality'. You don't understand, we may not know who entirely we are when we're healthy, but that person is far better off than we are now! I don't care if it does 'change me' to go from a depressed and spazzy mess to a normal and happy person. I would rather be a stranger to myself and learn to know myself and who I am without the sick than to stay sick.

So don't you dare come into our spaces and make those remarks. Don't you dare.

Onto more personal news in this.

The Latuda made me sick after lunch again. Thankfully, the doctor listened to me when I said "I want something to make me stop being sick all the time," and prescribed me a short term prescription of Zofram. I'm to use it until the nausea goes away, or until I run out, whichever happens first, and if the nausea continues after a week of mild treatment, I'm to go back to my regular doctor and let him know that one of those drugs - pretty sure the Latuda, since the nausea coincides with me taking it, but the doctor reminded me that I'm also going through Fetzima withdrawal and that could be adding to the problem - and tell him that I either need this medicine long-term, or I need something else done to eliminate this problem. Because he agreed that I shouldn't have to go through this every day of my life.

Hopefully, I'll get sleep tonight so I'm properly rested tomorrow. That'd be faboo.
yuuo: (Happy hurts sometimes)
Ended up not going to the hospital! Yay!

Ended up with medicine changes that wasn't what I was wanting, but at least we're attempting something to keep me out of the hospital, so yay!

Money.... not so yay.

Copay on prescriptions suddenly non-existent...? Uh.

I mean, not that my copays were high to begin with, $3.60 on my name brands, but this time, it was zero. Including on the name brand. I mean, if something's changed in my favor, cool, but I'd better call tomorrow to find out what, just so I don't get hit with back owed later down the line and not be able to pay then.

My wife's gift for me came in- I have a beautiful Captain America shrug with sleeves for my tank tops. ♥ And I now have a Slytherin notebook.

(Note: These things were ordered back when we had the money to spare, they're just now coming in the mail.)
yuuo: (Here's to us here's to love)
Wife's double-mastectomy went well. Surgeon said he got everything that looked abnormal out of her breast and lymph nodes. (I'd hope he got it all out of her breasts, he took those completely off.) What he took out looked like scar tissue to him, so it's possible she's 100% NED. (Note: NED, not cured. There is no cure for Stage IV breast cancer.) NED meants she's got a decent chance at being one of those tiny outliers who live decades beyond diagnosis. She's already made it past the average three years, and is running strong.

The surgery to remove her ovaries was also successful- they did those at the same time.

She is home, and kinda fading in and out regularly from pain and painkillers. (Hydrocodone/Ibuprofen is a magical thing, and also, if you have issues with Acetaminophen for whatever reason, like my wife, whose cancer had metastasized to her liver, demand this stuff. It's one of the only opiates that's stronger than Tramadol that doesn't come only with Tylenol in it.) But at this exact second, she's up and coherent and on her laptop.

Photographer friend, is who is the first father I became friends with and therefore is very important to us, is leaving today, and it saddens me. Wife's parents leave in a few more days, and Wife's best friend/heart sister is showing up right after that, so I have help with Wife's drains and general care at least until she's at a point where I can do it by myself without having a meltdown. I love my wife, will do anything for her, but uh. I'm not a natural caretaker. I'm not a white mage. I'm the defender. I will fight to the death for her, but medical care is a bit beyond me, at least for long term. So family and friends are all in town to help and I'm so grateful for it.

I'm getting excited to be roleplaying on IJ again. I've been getting some with Wife, but that's on hold until she's fully coherent on a regular basis and can tag without feeling wonky. But, my own heart-sister is joining in, and I'll be playing with her in the meantime. ^_^ Happy me is happy.

I've been kinda plugging away at Hephaestus in the meantime, and Prometheus will be picked back up once I know what's going on in the parts those two overlap at the end. I have a chapter in there to finish now, but it's smushy fluff, and while I love smushy fluff, I have trouble writing it. I'm that writer who likes to rip up your heart and use it for lawn mulch with little reprieve. Suffer my pen. Mwaha.

Cats are doing fine, all told. Loki got his annual and his three year rabies on Wednesday, and Wife went in for surgery on Thursday, so he is more riled than the others. Lots of new people, constantly invading their space (we had some other friends over last night for weekly gaming session), one of them ended up taking a dump on the floor out of stress protest, and we think it might've been Loki, but we're not sure. Thankfully, it was Carolyn who was here to clean it up, and I was at the hospital, so I didn't have to deal with that. :p I'm such a nice person (I would've done it if it'd been me to discover it. I'm not terrible to my cats.)

Although, speaking of taking care of the cats, I need to clean their box. Will do that when I'm done here.

On the mental health front, my doctor put me on clonazapam for my anxiety, since the Ativan had just stopped working and the hydroxyzine was only good for low grade treatment. It puts me to sleep, but it calms my mind in the process. The Ativan put me to sleep, but I was still wound up tighter than a spring when I'd wake up.

I also got my Fetzima upped, because not only is it an anti-depressant, being an SNRI instead of an SSRI, it helps with anxiety... and energy levels. So in about a week, I should start seeing an end to my hypersomnia, at least the level it's been at. It's caffeine pills in the meantime so I can be up when Wife needs me.

And now, I run to do that cat box. Have a good day, friends.
yuuo: (Can somebody help me?)
So I got a call from United Health Care, who are partnered with Nebraska state Medicaid, to follow up on their services, make sure I'm getting what I'm needing from them, and help them figure out where the gaps are and how to fix them, which, I think, is fucking fantastic.

What's odd is that she was confirming my diagnoses, and mentioned that she had bipolar on her record. Which... was news to me. I asked her what my psychiatrist had on record, and she confirmed schizoaffective and anxiety, which... is also odd. My formal evaluation testing came up with those diagnoses, but the doctor went in and did some futzing with the diagnoses so that while the anxiety/panic disorder was correct, I had schizophrenia and possible depression.

I have no idea where the bipolar came in.

And, of course, I can't get into my patient portal for that provider without calling the office for a new link to register with (weird set up, but at least it's with the same portal system as my PCP, so I can switch between the two providers with one login) to see what the fresh hell is up with that.

It is also just now occurring to me that my therapist might've submitted the bipolar diagnosis, since she is licensed to make such calls. Which means I'm super happy that she's volunteering to come with me to my next appointment with my doctor.

My wife wanted to go with me originally to help me remember all the complaints I've had, because not only do I have such a shitty memory that I lose track, I get a bit anxious just seeing the doctor and get afraid that I'm not 'perfect enough' if I'm not responding to his treatments well.

But. Well. We got a letter in the mail on Saturday.

My wife's bilateral mastectomy is the sixth.

Which.

Is when my appointment is.

And I can't reschedule, because I'll run out of my meds before I can get in again, and they won't refill without an office visit anymore. Thankfully, when this came to light at therapy on Monday, my therapist was wonderful and volunteered to come with me, since she has been taking notes on my various concerns and I haven't been, and again, the anxiety and shitty memory. I used to have a decent one, then my disorder got out of control, and the meds I was put on for it fried what was left of my memory neurons.
yuuo: (I won't let you fall apart)
So I may or may not have snuck away with a Ritalin, and boy, am I awake and working and productive and focused enough to actually do those things.

I fucking miss having my own Ritalin. I really do.

Now, back to writing. I just sold a kid to a human trafficker. Must keep up the good work.
yuuo: (Happy hurts sometimes)
Happy to report that I'm almost off the Zoloft. I got a partial prescription of 50 mg pills, with instructions to take them for one week, then cut them in half and take those another week, then I'm done. Huzzah!

Risperdal dosage has been cut in half. I suspect we might stop it entirely next time.

Still on only 40 mg of Fetzima. Would be happier with more, and we discussed waiting until next time to mess with my anxiety medicines. My anxiety has been through the roof lately. I'm scared to leave the house sometimes. But the doctor didn't want to fuck around with too many medicines all at once, so I'm to just hold on and hope for the best in the meantime.

Mental health medicine roulette sucks, but what is, is. At least I'm getting off the Zoloft and the Risperdal. One thing at a time.
yuuo: (Don't leave me like this)
Yeah, yeah, I know, I said I'd do something for Schizophrenia Awareness Week last month. Medicine changes and stress and plain old fashioned depression stopped that. I'll get to it some time. I can't promise when.

That said, I've got a pdoc (abbreviation for psychiatrist) appointment in about an hour and I'm not looking forward to it. I'm hoping he'll take me off the Risperdal entirely, leaving just the Latuda. I want to start getting off the Zoloft, too. But I'm scared we're going to maintain status quo, and that's not good enough. The progress is too slow. I want an increase in the Fetzima, a decrease in the Zoloft, and a cessation of the Risperdal.

I guess we'll see what the doc wants to do.

I miss Ritalin. This tired all the time nonsense is bullshit.
yuuo: (Wherever I go I take you with me)
EEG results are in. I am Depressed. My brain shows no signs of physical damage. My working memory is surprisingly good. My attention is in the shitter.

At least it didn't come back "You are 100% okay you big faker mcfakeyson." Which was my fear.

My prolactin blood draw also came back, my levels were up in the sixties. Which means my prolactin levels match that of a very pregnant woman- it should be 2 to 29 ng/mL. So uh. Yeah. He's weaning me down off the Risperdone, and keeping me on the Latuda. We've removed the .5 mg midday dose, and will decrease more the next go-round.

We also started me on Fetzima ER, which is a serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor (SNRI). Which is different from Zoloft, which is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI). SSRIs are the more common ones used, but since I had a bad reaction to Lexapro many a moon ago, and the Zoloft stopped doing anything fairly quickly and didn't respond to dose changes, we're trying a different type. But, since Fetzima takes a month to kick in, in the name of not sending me to the hospital from feeling shitty, we're not taking me off the Zoloft until I've been on the Fetzima a month, just to keep me from dropping too much and too fast.

So, here's to hoping the Fetzima works, because I really need out of this depression spiral. (Can I say that I have a feeling getting my prolactin levels under control might help, too? Pregnancy hormones, yikes.)
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