Don’t forget to take your meds. Never take wellness for granted.
It’s Friday night, date night, and I’m at some burger joint in downtown Jeffersonville.
I just had all my prescriptions filled. I tried to fill the new antidepressant they had swapped out and ramped me up on at the hospital. They didn’t have the drug in stock. Plus, it requires insurance pre-auth. I could pay cash for it Monday. $350. Or pay $10 when the pre-auth goes through, likely Tuesday or Wednesday.
I called two other drugstores and no one had it in stock. I called my psychiatrist at the lobotomy hospital, I thought he might have samples, but they’re closed Fridays.
So I teared up and lost my voice for a few minutes. I just teared and shook. No sobs. Sitting in the pharmacy waiting area, I took a Klonipin and rested my head back and looked at the ceiling. Good trick so people can’t see you cry. Unless they’re paying attention. Most people aren’t paying attention.
I ran through the possibilities. I could end up back in the hospital, the psych hospital or the regular hospital, from serotonin withdrawal or worse. If I get the drug Tuesday, that means I will not have taken it for six days. When you stop for that long you should ramp back up from a lower dose. And if you stop cold turkey, like I have since Wednesday, it can trigger a depressive or manic episode. Or worse, a seizure.
And I don’t have a car, remember? I’ve spent $35 on Uber already today. And I’m not home yet. And I don’t have an income.
I made the decision to roll with it and pick up the drug Tuesday or Wednesday once it’s approved. I told the pharmacist if I got readmitted, he’d have to bring me flowers. Nope not allowed. Chocolate. Nope not allowed. He had tried so hard to hook me up with the drug. Above and beyond. We had a good laugh. Another good man. So many good men.
I have a hive on my face. To the right of my nose. The last time I had one in the same place was after the first time I slept with Jeff. Does that mean sex with a married man is equally stressful as going without your antidepressant? There’s got to be a better joke in that. I’ll have a think on it.
So this memoir is still writing itself. As I walk out this illness every day.
Don’t forget to take your meds. For some of us, it’s a matter of life and death. Never take wellness for granted.
Photo by Myriam Zilles on Unsplash