If you’ve checked out my About page, you may have noticed that the top two listed items are major depressive disorder and IBS. Not the most glamorous of issues, but honestly the primary definitions of my life for the past 12 and 1/2 years.
I’ll tell you the story …
When I was 14 I got food poisoning. We’re talking majorly diarrhea-SICK. Only I had never had diarrhea before, like ever. So I didn’t know what the hell was going on when my tummy started rumbling like an angry ogre. So I didn’t get up and go to the bathroom when I needed to. So I had an accident.
Nobody noticed what happened, but I already had a major fear of restrooms, and this didn’t help one bit. It was a horrible and unfortunately shaping experience.
It was that event that triggered my IBS (though I wouldn’t have a name for what was wrong with me for another 4 years).
The next several years can be condensed to: embarrassed, ass-loads of medical tests that showed nothing wrong; diagnosed with depression, prescribed Prozac, said F-U to Prozac without even trying it because I wasn’t depressed; ups-downs-big downs through high school; muddled along with BRAT diet; up and moved out of state when shit got too hard to handle.
So in the middle of my senior year in high school I moved from Washington to California. I went to a doctor there who was all, “It sounds like you have IBS like my daughter” and something about pizza. Then he prescribed an antidepressant- Paxil. When I say prescribed, I mean he wrote on an rx pad and sent me on my merry-freakin’ way. No warnings, no mention of the fact that Paxil was not approved for pediatric use. No scheduled check-backs.
I overdosed on Paxil less than 6 months after I started it. I was in the hospital for two days. When I’m feeling particularly denial-like, I say that I just wanted to go to sleep for a while. That’s a lie.
I tell you, and I really don’t know how or why, but having a tube shoved up your nose and down the back of your throat so they can pump cherry-flavored charcoal directly in your stomach? Yeah, it puts things in perspective.
**As a side-note: you know how they tell you that your nose and throat are directly connected? That’s also a LIE.**
The next 6 years condensed: no meds, ’cause “I’m fine now, really!”; moved back to Washington; some school; too many brief jobs; lots of unemployed time; a wonderful and loving man who lit up my life and kept me as sane as I possibly could be.
In June 2007 it got bad again. I saw a new doctor who was AWESOME and actually knew his shit. He put me on … wait for it … Prozac. And you know what? It worked for a while. Then it stopped working and my doc and I decided that I should start seeing an actual psychiatrist.
With her I have tried Celexa, Effexor, Elavil, Pamelor, and most recently Cymbalta. And now the Cymbalta has stopped working. At my appointment this morning we discussed my options:
- Go back to the Prozac. Since it worked for about 7 months, I can take it ’til it stops again, go on to a different med until it stops, and then just keep alternating those two forever. Possibly add an enhancer like Abilify.
- Try an MAOI. And the MAOI diet. Which isn’t too horrible since it doesn’t contradict with the IBS diet. And it seems like it matches my type of depression better. But there are major risks and side-effects.
- Try ECT. My doctor is really against this because she is worried about the possible memory effects if I have to do it long term. I say, I’ll only be forgetting the bad shit anyway, but I will defer to her knowledge for the time being …
I’ve decided that I’m going to go with the MAOI, but I won’t be starting to wean off of my Cymbalta until after we get back from Florida in December. So I probably won’t actually be on a new drug until the new year. I’ll keep hoping that this will be the one that will work for me. I’ll finally be able to live with myself. I hope.
