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Hair Loss, Fluttery Vision, Speech Impediment, and Memory Loss

  • Writer: thealternativehippie
    thealternativehippie
  • Jun 18, 2015
  • 6 min read

April 8, 2015 marked the day that my worst fears were confirmed. Those weird physical changes were most definitely side effects of the medication. That day, my fiance came home to me silently perusing medication forums while tears streamed down my face. Once I told him that the hair loss, the vision and speech problems were all most likely side effects and that I was going to tell my doctor that day I was going to discontinue taking all of it, he looked at me speechless. I feared his silence was his own fears that if I were to go off medication, I would lose it or even end up in the hospital again. Instead, he hugged me, wiped my tears, and said he fully supported me in all my decisions and that he doesn’t blame me for not wanting to take medications that deteriorate my mind and body.

With his support in tow, I prepared for my appointment with my psychiatrist. To give you an idea of her, if you were to look up “God-complex” in the dictionary, her picture would be there. She is the doctor and I am the patient; she knows what’s best, and I know nothing. So in a sense, I was preparing to go to war with her, and man, I’m glad I prepared myself!

When we started my appointment, I listed off the hair loss, the vision flutter, and the speech problems. She questioned me about each side effect, and with a slight smile on her face says to me, “Well, this is what tends to happen when you take medication that attacks your central nervous system.” I couldn’t and didn’t know how to respond to her statement and that smirk on her face. I wanted to scream and cuss at her all while jumping across the table to attack her. I knew if I were to negatively react to her with rage, she would have all the ammunition she needed to keep me on all medication and even add on more, so with a very calm, assertive voice I told her I want off all the medication NOW.

In a very condescending manner, she says that is not a good idea because I will become extremely suicidal and will most likely end up in another hospital. (Mind you, I voluntarily checked myself into a mental hospital the first time around before ever becoming her patient, and the second time she convinced my mother to call the police to arrest and hospitalize me.) I told her I fully understood the risks and possible breakdowns that I may experience, but I am 100% willing to take those risks if that means my physical and mental health can recuperate. I asked her, “How do you expect someone to ‘become emotionally stable’ if his/her mental and physical health is deteriorating so quickly? All of it is connected. You can’t sit there and say that your emotions are separate from your physical and mental health.”

The conversation turned into an argument, with her giving me an ultimatum – either I go along with her plan ofonly decreasing the dosage of the Lamictal first and then the Gabapentin later down the line or I supplement them with a different medication starting that day. I stood my ground and said no to the decrease in the dosages because she was going to help titrate me off, end of discussion. My only other option according to her, were either Abilify or Keppra (by this time she already had her pen in hand and prescription pad in front of her). I asked her what the major side effects of these were, and once she told me, my choices turned into, do I want to risk permanent heart and/or metabolic problems or possibly become diabetic? My answer was a flat NO, and I made a comment like I would have rather just stayed on anti-depressants like Zoloft, just put me back on that if you are so set against me titrating off all medication.

At this point, her true colors really shined through. By not giving into her every whim and by standing by what I felt was right for me, she then sputtered off and said, “Well, why don’t you tell me just how those anti-depressants worked for you?! Didn’t you end up in the hospital?! Twice?!” Then my calm, assertiveness went out the door and the rage flew in. I looked her straight in the face with fire behind my eyes and said, “You know what Dr. Louis? You’re the doctor, and I’m just the dumb f***ing patient aren’t I? I know nothing of what’s going on in my body or my mind, and all of this is just in my head right? Give me the f***ing prescription for whatever f***ing medication you want to give me then I’m leaving.”

She was absolutely taken aback because up until this point I was her perfect patient – I took all medication she told me to take, I showed up to every appointment with her on time, I never questioned her decisions, and I even went along with her telling me my fiance is “toxic” and I needed to start breaking away from him. You would think that a doctor, especially a mental health professional who’s main purpose is to help and support you, that maybe she would have apologized and tried to work something out with me considering it is my life and health. Instead, she only gave me instructions to decrease the Lamictal dosage by 25mg and that we would leave it at that until the next appointment when we would discuss the other two medications yet again. I took my purse and walked out.

I was still so angry and upset, but I felt more empowered than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I was so proud of myself for standing my ground and not giving into her. I knew it would be an uphill battle from then on because I knew she would continuously try to shove more medication down my throat while filling my head with doubt and fear that I am setting myself up for failure, that I would most likely end up in another hospital, and I would never ever be “normal” or “stable” without taking medication the rest of my life (she had even told me in previous appointments that I should really start thinking about adopting children because I am too unstable and mentally ill to have children of my own).

Even though I am still battling with her every week (she has even gone as far as not inviting me to an in-office appointment since mid-April), it feels like a victory each and every day as I’ve been getting off one medication after another. I have been free of Lamictal since June 1st and I have 3 more weeks on Gabapentin, and what she doesn’t know, is that I haven’t taken any Klonopin or Atavan since about mid-March.

I have continued with my therapist and have gotten back into exercising at least 3 times a week, finally taken up meditation, breathing and stretching on a daily basis (thanks to my fiance who never gave up trying to convince me to do it), have tried alternative methods like cranial-sacral therapy, reiki, energy healing, hypnotherapy, and guided meditation. The best part about all these “treatments” is they have no negative side effects! I don’t risk hair loss, vision and speech problems, tumors, seizures, or any of those other horrible side effects with any of these methods. I urge everyone, regardless if you have been diagnosed with a mental illness or not or whether you are on medication or not, to take up these things for a healthier, happier life.

The next best thing about this roller coaster ride is, surprisingly, my parents, my brother, my fiance and his family, my three best girl friends have all mentioned to me that they think I have been better than they have ever seen me in my entire life. No one will ever know how much hearing those words means to me.

This is why April 8, 2015 will forever mark a special place in my heart, it is the day that I finally understood the meaning of this saying, "Life is not about taking shelter from the storm. It is about learning to dance in the rain."

 
 
 

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