Reaction to a Medication

Psych meds are no joke. Just when you think “This might be the pill that saves me,” that same pill threatens your life.

I was put on a brand new antipsychotic on a Thursday night. Within half an hour I was feeling more depressed. I woke up the next morning heavily depressed and thinking constantly of suicide, with a very specific plan.

I still went to my therapist appointment that day. I told him what I feeling and asked him to talk me out of going to the hospital. He asked what I wanted to do. God I hate that question! My therapists and doctors always ask me that. As though I can tell if this will be the time I’ll act on the feelings.

He said he knew I was going to the hospital when I wouldn’t even crack a smile at a corny joke. He had seen my flat affect (stony, not-moving face and not showing emotion or animation). He saw the psycho-motor retardation (little movement in the face and body due to a psychological issue such as depression).

He surmised all of my symptoms – including the suicidality – was from the one dose of the antipsychotic.

I called my family to come take me to the ER of the hospital with a psych unit that was recommended. This was instead of getting a police escort to drive myself.

I was in the ER for 6 hours while waiting for the antiquated Texas system to place me somewhere. Days later I found out the psych unit at that hospital has its own assessment office! Wouldn’t have taken so long!

The doctor I saw inpatient concurred with therapist that I reacted to the antipsychotic med. Of course I didn’t take any other doses. He increased one med and added a new kind of antidepressant.

Five days into the hospitalization and I was free to go! I was feeling back to my normal self and almost – wait for it – happy! I haven’t felt happy and optimistic without an irritable hypomania since, well, since my last manic episode. But this almost happiness wasn’t a chemical defect. It was me. I found me!

I’ve been home for 4 days, and my mood is feeling “off” today. I guess depressed. Just woke up this way. I’ll take what I got of happy, and I’ll ride this depression out. I don’t feel stuck. I still have my usual suicidal thoughts, but they are fleeting and I have no intent. As I said, I’ll ride this depression out. I might find happy again. Who knows?

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