medication
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I’ve been experiencing an upswing, an increase in hypomanic symptoms. I am not lost in the sauce yet, but I am hearing voices every day if I don’t take a PRN seroquel for it, and my libido is insatiable despite meds commonly known to kill sex drive. In my psychologist appointment with Dr Black this…
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My first few days in the hospital passed in a blur, a fog of medication adjustments, sluggish pacing, and intermittent crying. I felt most suicidal, yet safe. At least that’s what I reported in my daily nursing assessments. It’s a strange juxtaposition of feeling – that given the chance, I would kill myself, yet in…
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Flashbacks are strong today. I can still feel the police grabbing me, pulling me out of my apartment and I can still feel the panic I felt in the ER, the overwhelming desire to run, and doing so. I can still feel the straps around my wrists and ankles when they strapped me down. It’s…
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I still remember quite clearly my first morning in the hospital. I woke up after restless, fitful sleep, in which I was frequently startled awake by room checks. I just wanted coffee, so I went to the dining room. The kitchen would bring a large carafe of coffee in the mornings and it would be…
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After a couple weeks of seeing Dr Black, I was starting to shut down and sink deeper and deeper into relentless depression and despair. My PHQ and GAD scores couldn’t get any worse. I was calling off work a lot, unable to face anyone or function within the limits of the job description. I made…
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I started to write. Frantic, hurried writing, as though my memory had an expiration date and it was fast approaching. As though I were making up for lost time. And in a way, I was. A few days into my detainment, psych ward staff gave me a notebook to use as a journal. I wrote…
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In the summer of 2014, I was 28, nearly 29. I had lost everything – my grad school program and friends therein, my self-respect, my hope for any kind of future. I nearly lost tangible things like my job and apartment as I quit my meds and descended deeper into a manic depression. The social…
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My 7th night saw me pass out shortly after meds, practically asleep before my head hit the pillow. I pieced together my episodes of sleepwalking from medical records, chart notes, and verbal reports. That night I actually got up and started walking around my room. I went out and headed straight for the main doors.…
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My first week in the hospital, a living nightmare, had passed. On day seven I felt so groggy, so heavy and sedated, I barely noticed when they came for vitals at 6am. The doctor came to see me first thing. “How are you feeling?” “Shitty,” I could barely mumble. I kept my eyes closed. “Dirty?”…
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“Please, don’t make me take seroquel anymore, the RLS is unbearable. Please,” I begged the doctor on my sixth day, plagued with jerking and twisting legs all night, kicking, moaning, and walking around my room in anxious desperation. Room checks, where I was offered more PRNs, startled me every 15 minutes. “Okay…okay,” the doctor said…
