Another day, another sobfest in Dr. Drugs’ office. “I’m flat.” WAHHHH! “I’m depressed.” WAHHHH WAHHHHH!! “I wish something would happen to make me die because I can’t kill myself, it would hurt my family too much.” WAHHHHH WAHHHHH WAHHHHH!!! Dr. Drugs calmly wrote it all down. He asks, “What’s your mood level, on a scale of 1 to 10?” then “What’s your energy level?” (same scale), then “How are you sleeping?” and finally “How is your appetite?” He peppers me with these questions like a shotgun, and I spurt out “I’m a THREE, ok? Threes across the BOARD! These drugs aren’t WORKING!” Dr. Drugs sits, serenely sipping his tea. “I think the antidepressants are causing you to cycle.” he says. “But I’m not cycling I’ve been steadily down for MONTHS!” I cry back. The good doctor is unruffled. ‘I’d like you to increase the Trileptal to 1200 mg at night, stop the Lexapro and I’ll see you in a week.” I am skeptical of this plan, but, not having a better one, I agree.
So I came home, went through the pill box, took out some, added some. The plan is in place. I know sooner or later this chemistry experiment called My Brain will respond to something. That, or we’ll go to Plan B. Dr. Drugs 2.0.