…pills, pills, pills…all I see are pills…pills…pills…

Dr. PA has a new (Humble Pie, Instant Karma, whatever else) philosophy: “ALWAYS TITRATE YOUR MEDICATION CHANGES!!!”

From that, I think you can gather I’ve had some problems with not titrating my increases.  That were high.  Really high.

I’ve done a yank.  Which is completely counterintuitive to what I said above.  Proper titrations=Proper discontinuations.

Non-Arsey Neuro knows I’ve done this and I’ve made an appt. to see him.  This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.  Or maybe we’ll get lucky and find the sweet spots fast.  Maybe those levels are fine but we need to slow things down.

However, I did see changes with my seizures within a month. Not as harsh and violent and the event durations were cut in half.  We’re heading in the right direction?

Now, back to the yank, no titration etc.

Everyone who goes through a med change (or even starts one for the first time) knows you’re going to feel sick.  Sometimes unbearably, but you’re not at risk of any harm if it isn’t a “medical emergency.”

So what would constitute a “medical emergency?”

Clearly, any indication of “imminent death” due to the patient’s physical and/or mental state.  That’s a bit of guesswork on both sides, unless perhaps someone had something like a “myocardial infarction” (i.e. a heart attack) or a “cerebrovascular accident.”

I just had to use that one.  WTF? HUH? If you can manage to piece it together, it still makes your brain want to just stop so you don’t have to think anymore.

“Accident.”  I love it.  Loss of blood to the brain causing irreversible damage to the cells.  At best, a stroke.  At worst, well? The worst.

______

I started this a few days ago so I’ll try and continue with the deterioration from above and further deterioration now–as quickly as possible.

I was talking about what would be a “medical emergency.”  Well, in my case, how about being pretty damn sick but you THINK you’ve finally tackled that.  ALSO you THINK you’re mentally stable enough to move on to working with the next med change as well.

BUT.YOU.ARE.NOT.  

And this is the kicker for it being an emergency: you’re not aware of your own actions–precisely because YOU THINK YOU ARE JUST FINE!!!

The only way to even try attempt to describe it, to even come close? Well, in my case?

Let’s meander off into DID territory.  To folks out there with any of the DID family of diagnoses (I have one–Dissociative Amnesia) or anyone who knows someone who does? It was like my med changes brought out this crazy alter that was running around while I was in a fugue state (sort of…or maybe a bit of one?) Then, said alter was damn near destroying a relationship with someone I love dearly!

I figured it out in just the nick of time before who knows what more damage I would have done beyond my prior havoc! It actually was the meds.  I think that’s justifiable as a “medical emergency.”

Now let me tell you! My dead twins (see Category Womb Twin Survivor) aren’t alters in the DID sense.  I don’t fit the diagnostic criteria for any of the DID diagnoses, other than the one I already have.  Yet, what happens between me and my twins as “alters” if you wish is similar to DID.

So, I repeat: NOW LET ME TELL YOU!!! Going through that (because I think I caught myself doing it again just goddamn fucking yesterday!!!) is freak-you-out, bad-ass, uber-terrifying, shit! Doing something that’s so distressing but not having the knowledge that you’re doing it???

If I just got a wee taste of what some of you guys go through with DID–any way, shape of form? I kneel at your feet.  I cry for you. Because I can’t tell you how much I’ve cried over it for me–and still continue to do so.

Nonetheless, this person and I now know.  We’re still sifting through MY wreckage, but things have been salvaged.

Today.  I am now needing my cane for malnutrition as well as epilepsy.  I’ve been keeping an eye on my weight every day–not for happy, eating disordered, anorectic, wee PA–really, for health reasons.  Of course med changes make you sick, don’t want to eat, but with all of these things happening so fast, I’m still probably refusing to eat because of all the land mines everywhere.

I lost 2lbs. overnight.  I’m now at 92lbs.  That’s 2lbs. above my “Danger Zone” number.  If I go below that, everyone’s gonna go apeshit! Well, probably not Non-Arsey Neuro.  Even the current number might make people…you know what? I honestly don’t even care anymore.  Yes, I must eat.  If the weight doesn’t rise, screw it. It’s because of making the med changes.

The moods? The other person and I can manage it ourselves.  It may not be so bad now as a titration will be done.

I have to go through this.  I have to take everything it gives me and everything it takes out of me.  It might be my only chance at getting well.

And thank you so much to you all as Commenters patiently waiting, Twitter and Blog Followers, the same.  And a certain Blog Follower who just gave me a Pingback.  I’m very flattered.

I will get back to you all.  I never ignore anyone here.  I was even thinking of shutting down my blog.  Because I just can’t BE here! I haven’t been able to be here for so long!

Working with the two meds to adjust is going to take a very long time I think.  I really do.

Take care all, PA


  1. Sending you hugs. Wish I had something wise to say, but I don’t. Fibro fog is kicking my ass or brain or something.

  2. Hey again katm. Oh, it’s alright. Time for me to send you lots of hugs. *hugs* There.

    It’s been a while since you left this comment so I hope you’re feeling better. A lot.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s



Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,757 other followers