My memory is fuzzy and I blame the Risperdol. But I also had that ECT in October 2016 and that impacted my memory as well. I'm wondering though: I'm 51 and is it normal and natural to be forgetful about things? I am struggling to remember what happened to me these past 16 years since my diagnosis in February 2002. I know there were good times--my husband and I took several road trips out West--and sadly, bad times spent in hospitals and at home recovering. But everything feels like a blur, distant..is that normal? I don't know.
There is one thing I must remember and that is to take my meds. Mom got me a pill container last year (can you believe I was just popping the pills from the bottle for years...no organization...how did I keep things straight?) and it is placed prominently on my kitchen counter.
My current meds are:
Risperdol (anti-psychotic)
Depakote (mood stabilizer)
Neurontin (for anxiety)
Water pill
Antabuse (for alcoholism)
Synthroid (for Graves disease)
I also take an over-the-counter sleeping pill every night. I've been taking one for awhile...I'm not exactly sure why. Dr. Levy wanted me to stop taking them but I haven't been following his instructions. I guess I want to make sure I get to sleep and stay asleep. With the sleeping pill I can ensure I'm asleep by 9:00-9:30 p.m. and awake at 7:00 a.m. I don't think I've had this kind of a steady, solid sleep pattern for years.
I also remember the advice from a former therapist to bathe every day. I am taking showers regularly and soaking in the tub from time to time. In the past, this was very difficult. I'm so happy I'm keeping myself clean. It's something those who don't have a mental illness take for granted. I think I'll make a list of my victories:
1. Cook for husband, myself and the basset hounds
2. Bathe regularly
3. Do laundry/change sheets
4. Blogging again
5. Working with Dr. Fetter in therapy
6. Walk dogs (exercise!)
7. Reconnecting with friends slowly
8. Activities with mom (musical performances, theater, art museum, films)
I'm sure there are other things but these are the most important. So I'm building back a life. And now the sleeping pill is kicking in and it's hard to keep my eyes open. Up to bed I must go. Good night all. More at a later time.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Saturday, February 10, 2018
One Foot In Front Of The Other
I'm waking up from a six month medicine haze. Dr. Levy has me on Risperdol and it packs a real punch. My days, my routine is very, very simple: wake up at seven and have three cups of coffee and cereal; call mom; plan dinner; go to grocery store; walk dogs; cook dinner and eat; spend time on Facebook then go to bed at nine. I find house cleaning chores to be very difficult right now. Doing laundry can be a challenge. I call it a great victory when I get the sheets changed.
Are things difficult because of the Risperdol? I have to ask Levy. Levy doesn't accept insurance. I pay out of pocket to see him. He's the best and you pay for it. A 20 minute session is $210. I see him once a month, but if my anxiety ramps up, or we have to tweak my meds I see him more frequently.
This is the thing about mental healthcare, this is the rub: those with severe cases need expensive meds and pricey doctors--and odds are they can't work and don't have a steady paycheck and good insurance. So how do they afford this? Well, in my case I rely on my family, my husband, and I have Medicare through my Social Security Disability plan. Things could be a hell of a lot worse.
I just want to be assured I won't go manic and get psychotic again. But no one will give me that assurance. The medicine just isn't that good--we haven't made enough breakthroughs. It's all a big crap shoot (I think). Yes, I'll continue to take my medicine as prescribed even though my history has shown I go manic every 2-3 years.
But looking back, I did smoke pot throughout the past 15 years. I was very hesitant to give that mood-altering substance up; and I have met many bipolars here over the years who smoke pot. It's certainly possible in my case that the pot contributed to my manias. I have to admit that. Today I do not drink or smoke pot. I am hoping this will keep the episodes at bay. Soon, I will (reluctantly) start exercising. Dr. Levy keeps prodding me to get to the gym. I like to swim laps and used to swim a mile four days a week in my younger days. I will try to get back to this soon.
It's challenging for me to write right now, but I'm going to keep pushing forward. One foot in front of the other. This is a start.
Are things difficult because of the Risperdol? I have to ask Levy. Levy doesn't accept insurance. I pay out of pocket to see him. He's the best and you pay for it. A 20 minute session is $210. I see him once a month, but if my anxiety ramps up, or we have to tweak my meds I see him more frequently.
This is the thing about mental healthcare, this is the rub: those with severe cases need expensive meds and pricey doctors--and odds are they can't work and don't have a steady paycheck and good insurance. So how do they afford this? Well, in my case I rely on my family, my husband, and I have Medicare through my Social Security Disability plan. Things could be a hell of a lot worse.
I just want to be assured I won't go manic and get psychotic again. But no one will give me that assurance. The medicine just isn't that good--we haven't made enough breakthroughs. It's all a big crap shoot (I think). Yes, I'll continue to take my medicine as prescribed even though my history has shown I go manic every 2-3 years.
But looking back, I did smoke pot throughout the past 15 years. I was very hesitant to give that mood-altering substance up; and I have met many bipolars here over the years who smoke pot. It's certainly possible in my case that the pot contributed to my manias. I have to admit that. Today I do not drink or smoke pot. I am hoping this will keep the episodes at bay. Soon, I will (reluctantly) start exercising. Dr. Levy keeps prodding me to get to the gym. I like to swim laps and used to swim a mile four days a week in my younger days. I will try to get back to this soon.
It's challenging for me to write right now, but I'm going to keep pushing forward. One foot in front of the other. This is a start.
Thursday, February 1, 2018
Picking Up The Pieces
Oh, dear readers, where have I been? In psychosis, hospitalized three times...my writer's block lasted what--two years this time? I've forgotten how to use Google Blogger. My husband navigated me here. I'm just going to start typing and let things flow. It's hard to put together sentences; I don't feel witty; I don't know how to put pictures on this page. I'm flustered, I'm frustrated, I'm scared. What's wrong with my brain?
I guess I share with you what I remember happened. In October of 2016, I was hospitalized at The Ohio State University. I was in psychotic mania. I had been taking the med Vraylar--at the time approved for schizophrenics but not yet bipolars--and something went terribly wrong. Yes, I had been smoking pot and that probably didn't help matters.
Once in OSU's clutches, they put me on the anti-psychotic Risperdol. I was in the hospital for a month. When the psychosis didn't ease up, they talked my husband into approving ECT shock treatment. I was to have 12-15 sessions but I only had 4; and I damn near died on the table coming out of anesthesia the last treatment session. I woke up early (I think) and no one was watching me. I just remember being paralyzed and choking on the tube in my throat. I couldn't breathe...then somebody finally pulled it out and that's all I can remember.
I was released in time for the Presidential election of 2016 between Donald Trump and Hilary Clinton. My mom took me to my voting location, but I was too disoriented and tired to navigate the crowd. I ended up not voting--a first--and I'm still a little upset about that. I blame OSU. I think they traumatized me and should be held accountable.
I would get psychotic manic again in January 2017 and went back to the mental ward, this time Dublin Springs hospital, a pricey place, arguably the best mental health hospital in Columbus. I stayed for two weeks, went home and in February came under the care of my current talk therapist, Richard Fetter. He is 70, kind and intelligent and I don't know what I'd do without him.
My third hospitalization was in April 2017, again at Dublin Springs, and I only stayed a week. I was psychotic still, and the psychosis did not completely break until I came under the care of my new psychiatrist, Dr. Alan Levy, who is ranked as one of the top psychiatrists in Columbus. I began seeing Dr. Levy in June 2017. He got me straightened out on the Risperdol and Depakote and treats my anxiety disorder with Neurontin.
While I was manic, I separated from my husband and moved in with my mom. I lived with mom from February-early July 2017. I thought I wanted to get divorced from my husband and wouldn't talk to him on the phone. The whole thing is very upsetting to think about...why is it when I get manic I want to leave the love of my life? I'm sitting with him now in the TV room. He's on his iPad playing chess and I'm here writing for the first time in two years. Tears are welling up in my eyes...I'm emotional. What would I do without husband Michael, Fetter, Levy and mom?
It's February 1, 2018 and I'm still in recovery mode from the mental wreckage of 2016-2017. I sleep a lot (11-12 hours a night) but I'm so pleased that I am able to cook! Michael gets a gourmet meal almost every night. I keep the kitchen clean and tidy (but I struggle with the rest of the housework). Our house is cluttered and I don't want people over...I am private in some ways. I long for the day when I am stronger and I get the house cleaned up and I can invite a friend over...I don't know when that will be though.
So I'm 51 now and "retired" I guess. I'll explore this more later. I'm glad I was able to write today. Dr. Levy says I won't have to go to the hospital again. Do I believe him? How many hospitalizations have I had? Nine? Ten? Too many. I'm going to slowly keep writing. I'm slow...still recovering...okay that's all for now.
Once in OSU's clutches, they put me on the anti-psychotic Risperdol. I was in the hospital for a month. When the psychosis didn't ease up, they talked my husband into approving ECT shock treatment. I was to have 12-15 sessions but I only had 4; and I damn near died on the table coming out of anesthesia the last treatment session. I woke up early (I think) and no one was watching me. I just remember being paralyzed and choking on the tube in my throat. I couldn't breathe...then somebody finally pulled it out and that's all I can remember.
I was released in time for the Presidential election of 2016 between Donald Trump and Hilary Clinton. My mom took me to my voting location, but I was too disoriented and tired to navigate the crowd. I ended up not voting--a first--and I'm still a little upset about that. I blame OSU. I think they traumatized me and should be held accountable.
I would get psychotic manic again in January 2017 and went back to the mental ward, this time Dublin Springs hospital, a pricey place, arguably the best mental health hospital in Columbus. I stayed for two weeks, went home and in February came under the care of my current talk therapist, Richard Fetter. He is 70, kind and intelligent and I don't know what I'd do without him.
My third hospitalization was in April 2017, again at Dublin Springs, and I only stayed a week. I was psychotic still, and the psychosis did not completely break until I came under the care of my new psychiatrist, Dr. Alan Levy, who is ranked as one of the top psychiatrists in Columbus. I began seeing Dr. Levy in June 2017. He got me straightened out on the Risperdol and Depakote and treats my anxiety disorder with Neurontin.
While I was manic, I separated from my husband and moved in with my mom. I lived with mom from February-early July 2017. I thought I wanted to get divorced from my husband and wouldn't talk to him on the phone. The whole thing is very upsetting to think about...why is it when I get manic I want to leave the love of my life? I'm sitting with him now in the TV room. He's on his iPad playing chess and I'm here writing for the first time in two years. Tears are welling up in my eyes...I'm emotional. What would I do without husband Michael, Fetter, Levy and mom?
It's February 1, 2018 and I'm still in recovery mode from the mental wreckage of 2016-2017. I sleep a lot (11-12 hours a night) but I'm so pleased that I am able to cook! Michael gets a gourmet meal almost every night. I keep the kitchen clean and tidy (but I struggle with the rest of the housework). Our house is cluttered and I don't want people over...I am private in some ways. I long for the day when I am stronger and I get the house cleaned up and I can invite a friend over...I don't know when that will be though.
So I'm 51 now and "retired" I guess. I'll explore this more later. I'm glad I was able to write today. Dr. Levy says I won't have to go to the hospital again. Do I believe him? How many hospitalizations have I had? Nine? Ten? Too many. I'm going to slowly keep writing. I'm slow...still recovering...okay that's all for now.
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