How many people have had bad experiences with their medications only to be told by their Doctor that it COULDN’T POSSIBLY be their meds?
It happens to me often. Around the third time of me saying it, a light bulb goes on in the same Doctor’s eyes and he agrees with me. Why do I have to suffer for almost a year before they believe me?
I think that Topamax isn’t doing me any favors. It’s making me cry and making me cranky. Even with Adderall I just want to sleep. I think everything I do is wrong. My sister and ex sister in law keep saying I need to “be somewhere”. Where the hell do they think that “somewhere” is exactly? They don’t want to say it but they mean a hospital. Neither one of them have ever been so it’s easy for them to say. It isn’t like going to Club Med for a few relaxing weeks of fun in the sun where we make S’mores and baskets. Idiots. I’m extremely touchy about the situation because I’ve been more than once. None of my experiences were pleasant and I also didn’t receive any kind of help. So now I hide in my room and cry.
For a period of time I was on a combo of Topamax, Viibryd, and Adderall. Please excuse any spelling mistakes, my computer and brain are a little funky. I began having a problem where in the morning I was either crying nonstop or being an extreme bitch to everyone. Usually it would get a little better by 2:00 or 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon. When I had been in the hospital for 5 days for my kidneys they didn’t give me the Topamax. I noticed a change in my mood. When I got out of the hospital I tapered myself off of it. I did well for a few a few months but actually had put myself into a manic state. I went back on it but at half the dose. The same problem started again. I stopped again. I went to my Psychiatrist who said I needed to go back on it at the prescribed dose and give it 4 to 6 weeks to really get into my system.
It’s been a few weeks and I am having trouble handling anything without being mean or crying. Last week I found my dad unconscious on the front lawn with his pants and underwear halfway down. He was late coming home from dialysis. I had been calling his cell and looking for him. He didn’t know what year it was. He was exposing himself to the neighborhood because he kept insisting he had to urinate. He had somehow lost a shoe while driving home. How he drove I have no idea. How the dialysis place could have let him go like that I have no idea. They swear he wasn’t like that when he left.
Having Bipolar and Conversion Disorder while dealing with each new shock is wearing on me. My siblings are of no help. Did either one think of how hard it was for me to clean what was the equivalent of 4 blood transfusions off of our bathroom floor and walls? No. I did it though. Or to wake up and come down the stairs only to see him sleeping on the couch in his underwear covered in diarrhea? No. But like with my mother, I cleaned him and the rest of it. I can’t keep doing this. Yesterday he called me a bitch and told me if I left not to come back. I wanted to take a few days to myself and let them deal with things.
My Doctor is now afraid to do ECT on me. The Conversion Disorder has gotten worse. The last two times I had to go under anesthesia they had trouble bringing me out because my brain didn’t want to come out. I have to go under again the end of July and he’s worried. I have no choice. If I don’t change my kidney stents I die. My family doesn’t understand how broken my brain is and they let me continue to endure the stress with no help. My father refuses help from outside sources. If I let the state place me somewhere it would be in an emergency situation. This would put me with the most severe cases of mentally ill. All of my doctors agree that this would be a bad thing. I would decompensate and only get worse. I don’t know what to do anymore.