Showing posts with label doctor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doctor. Show all posts

Friday, 5 February 2016

Prozac Placebo

Three weeks ago I came down with a viral infection of epic proportions. I swallowed all the painkillers I could legally get my hands on and went to work with my neck swollen to the point where it felt like my head was being crushed. By the Friday, I made it to the bus stop only to do a stop and start dance about turning back from home with an...uncomfortable stomach. 

Cue a weekend of severe stomach pain and cramps. I went to work on Friday, went home sick and saw the doctor who said I may have glandular fever as my glands and spleen was swollen and blood tests had to be done ASAP. Health anxiety goes nuclear. 

Over the next two weeks the fatigue gets worse and for some reason my mood spirals. I haven't spent every day hiding in bed crying for 5 years. Or wanting to launch myself from the railway bridge. Could it be leukemia? Liver disease? Would my workplace destroy me when I went back because we're 5 staff down and I left with work unfinished on my desk? 


I have my first ASC 1-1 and rate my Wellbeing at 3 or in my words: "shit". That was, coincidentally, my first word. She put me in touch with Spectrum E, a company who specialise in workplace support for people with ASC. I feel better talking to the lady, but ashamed. Will work detest me for having to make reasonable adjustments? Running deeper, I'm furious that I don't cope the same way as other people and need adjustments to work well. Flip it, I get good feedback. My contract was extended.

I live in fear that I will never fully integrate with other people, what my ASC worker keeps calling 'neurotypicals'. Will I ever have friends I see offline? Will I ever 'do' small talk or care about their weekends, their social lives or the things they say worry them? 

Some of this comes out in verbal fits and starts to the doctor. She's put me on Prozac. This is the first day. I know it takes weeks to work, I know I am high risk for dangerous behaviour with a number of Sections in my past, but here's the odd thing. Today's the first time I haven't cried. The first time I haven't felt awful and feel so low it feels like it's physically crushing my limbs, but conversely when I walk that half of my body is missing. 

I want to go back to work. I'm told I'm good. 'Professional', 'Capable', 'Reliable', 'Hardworking'. But I know I can be better. I admit I am frightened. Even though they know my diagnosis, I fear being found out for what I am. A 31 year old child who pulls out her hair when upset or cries when the washing machine is up. But, if Prozac helps me hide, then good. I don't want them to know what it really looks like. What daily life is like.


It can only be a placebo effect, but it's a very effective one.

Monday, 31 August 2015

Terrifying Nights

I'm terrified. 

I've lived in this house with The Boyfriend for six months. Three times (one just now) I thought I was definitely awake because the bedroom looked exactly the same and I could see The Boyfriend sleeping. I don't remember falling asleep, mostly because I was in the same position. Always this has been in the early hours of the morning. 

I became aware of something in the room by my side of the bed that frightened me, perhaps a shadow. I wasn't/didn't think I was paralysed because I was screaming at The Boyfriend for help and even hitting and scratching him to wake him up. 

Then I felt a very hard poke in the ribs. 

I hit The Boyfriend very hard and the next thing he was awake, but said he hadn't poked me nor did he remember me hitting him, only that I was thrashing around. 

I'm not going back to sleep.

What is this? I want it to be Sleep Paralysis, but I don't understand the absolute certainty that I was fighting and screaming for help. 

Could it be Night Terrors? I've been under massive stress, predominantly medical, since moving. But surely I'm far too old for them?

I'm fairly logical (though prefer to "pass" as someone quirky, etc) so even though it felt like a demon or ghost, how can it possibly be? 

I'm on the verge of seeing my doctor (who will probably sigh and tell me to take paracetamol) or call a priest (even though I'm not religious).

Now I'm chugging caffeine with the lights on and going to read a "fluffy" book on my Kindle. I'm envying The Boyfriend who has fallen back asleep upstairs and is snoring contentedly.