Putting the fun back in dysfunctional

Yes it's been a while since I've written and noticeably absent is anything about my recent mental health drama. Then along came my ankle. I've been waiting to write until I felt things had settled into a rhythm of some sorts so I could tell what was going on.
This is as settled as it gets I suppose and things are pretty calm. Two weeks of leave have helped that considerably but so has my rejecting any and all medications championed by all care providers.

No anti-depressants, no analgesics, no mood enhancers, no sleep remedies, no anti-hypertensives. NO CRAP!

The military reacted to the reports of so many troops suffering from mental health issues with a blitz of resources. Unfortunately, in the effort to help, I got chewed up in the machine and spat out. It wasn't a malicious effort, I believe each provider was doing what they thought would help me. But in the beginning my appointments were about 15 minutes to get in, see a physicians assistant (who was sorely overloaded), state my very complex life, and get a diagnosis. In all that, sometimes they forgot to listen to what I was saying.

I went in for stress issues in the fall of 2007. I walked out of that appointment with Zoloft and with some Ambien to help me sleep. When that didn't do much for me, the dose went up to "reach a therapeutic level". On a follow-up visit a different provider (always!) told me that Ambien taken with anti-depressants can lead to worsening depression. Imagine that.

Somewhere in here I was prescribed Lorazepam (Ativan) to help with the added anxiety I felt with the Zoloft. When that didn't work they switched the Ativan for Alprazolam (Xanax). This led to some other problems to include drinking. Really bad idea especially when you are on benzodiazepines. Of course this only added to my stress from the fallout of all of this.




Back to the doc, again it's a different doc each time so you have to explain everything each time eating up your precious time with the provider who has to figure it all out for a new and improved plan. Also in this time, the efffects of the meds skewed my perspective and I'm buying into the diagnosis. I mean a medical professional told me I was depressed so who was I to argue.

After a ride on Zoloft, I was switched to Celexa and was still on Xanax. Same regimen, see if I tolerate it than increase the dose until I hit the max. I was reassigned in this time frame and this meant I was seen in a different clinic. So guess what? New doc, overview of the past year of care and woe. This guy sent me to a Psychologist at least. The psych listened and decided to just work with some relaxation exercises to start and some follow-up visits after that. After a few visits we discussed a change in meds to deal with anxiety and depression. By this time I was arguing that I wasn't depressed and that my issue was stress, STILL!

This lead to a change in meds. This would prove to be a wild ride. I was switched to Prozac. Started out at 40mg with a Xanax chaser. This is what I went to Utah on. Little wonder I have memory issues with that trip (Not to mention all that happened).

Upon my return, I ended up on 80mg of Prozac and then...hooboy! I started getting more agitated and tense (if you were around me this is not news to you). Everything became a crisis. The docs said it was from PTSD. That the mechanism that controls my adrenaline was broke so it didn't adjust up and down it was just on and off. Whatever the reason, I went from Zero to 100 in the blink of an eye. Prozac and I are not on speaking terms.

This is what lead to the two overdose situations in April and my eventual hospitalization. The best part of this was that they forgot to give me my meds. This is how I found that my meds were causing more problems then they were fixing.

I have been off any and all meds for a couple of weeks now and feel much better and I seem to be back to normal, whatever that is. The biggest problem I have is that no matter how much the Army preaches about taking away the stigma of mental health and seeking help, I now have to overcome most people looking at me sideways like I just escaped from the psych ward. I also have to heal all the wounds in my own family and playing catch-up with everything that dropped to the wayside while daddy went crazy.

Another thing I came to realize is that in every medical discipline, the patient is HIGHLY encouraged to participate in their care. Every discipline EXCEPT mental health. As soon as you ask for help you lose all credibility because you are mentally ill. When I asked a provider a few months back to arrange a multi-discipline appointment where all the various providers involved in my care would be present I was very adamantly shot down. She said they would hold the meeting and then tell me what they decided. Sorry, that's not going to happen. Would you trust a group of people holding a council to decide if what you are saying is true? I mean they couldn't get my initial complaint right with me in the room I'm doubtful they would be any more accurate with me out of the discussion. And I don't want anything to do with a caregiver that will not be completely honest with me.

To give you an idea of how the machine thinks, I was hospitalized twice for an overdose of prescribed medication yet was sent to counseling for alcoholism because wine was present at the second event. Not because I swallowed most of my prescribed meds (which were myriad since no one was really paying attention to the chemical roller coaster they put me on) but because I drank wine with some benzodiazepines. I do have a history of alcoholism I don't deny that, but I have done as well as AA says a person can and until I was riding this train had been dry for quite some time.

I forgot to include the Amitryptiline they gave me with the Prozac. This was to help me sleep with a side effect of assisting in anxiety. There were some other meds in there during the whole time that I left out. These were not related to this experience so much as they were just related to general health like allergy meds, pain relievers, oh yeah, let's not forget in the end I was put on Concerta for ADD as well as three days on Abilify. The Abilify gave me an excruciating headache after the third dose, I began vomiting.

Fun, fun, fun!

I recognize that I am not what most of these providers are used to dealing with. They are more accustomed to dealing with acute PTSD and depression related to combat not with someone dealing with a basically terminally ill child while living the dream in the Army. All I ask is that they listen to the patient before making a diagnosis.

So now you have an overview of what went on for nearly two years before I went down in flames. I am assured that none of the effects of the meds are permanent. I pointed out that I wasn't so sure about that since it affected my professional life as well as my personal life. These effects don't just resolve on their own. If you are among the people I have offended, I apologize profusely. I hope that I have not done anything permanent.

Time may heal all wounds but I wonder how long we are talking here?