Deja Vu
It only took about 15 minutes before the inevitable question arose (I should have known better): So you want to try X drug? In this case it was Prozac. I put on my assenting smile and nodded, thinking “Adios fucker” the minute the topic was broached.
For those who think I’m overreacting or “being difficult” or “not wanting to get better” or any other rationalization that doesn’t bother to challenge their perception of the world, let me familiarize you with some of the side effects suffered from other drugs I’ve been put on. Let’s begin with what I like to refer to as Agent Orange, due to their colour and catastrophic side effects.
I was put on Nardil in 2002 due to my lack of response to Paxil and Effexor at the maximum dose. At this time, I was waking up at 5:30 AM, 6ish, and going for an 8k run every morning. Fast forward a few months. I was on my way to gaining a hundred pounds (which took around six months to gain and caused horrific scarring that permanently disfigures my body to this day), defecating blood at one point, spasming as if being electrocuted when I slept, and sleeping 18+ hours a day. I had breath that was described to me as being reminiscent of rotting meat (thanks mom), no matter how many times I brushed and rinsed. I could barely walk around a block, not from the weight gain, which obviously didn’t help, but from this overwhelming feeling of enervation that plagued me every waking hour.
After being diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome last year, the diagnosing psychiatrist put me on Cymbalta. I ended up having to take a leak every 10-15 minutes and still felt like I had to go after I went. This went on all day, every day. I finally stopped, hoping for some relief. No such luck. Almost a year later, I still have the side effect, and no help whatsoever from the cocksucker that prescribed the drug.
So you’ll have to pardon me if I have a contact hate for all psychiatrists.
