Meds-- when to say "Enough Is Enough."

"Someone oughta give her some meds."

Have you ever heard someone say that to someone they felt was acting inappropriately?  A little too jolly, a little too much drama, a little too much non-conformity.

As a society, needing "meds" is synonymous with being a little "off."  A little less than what is okay for a "normal" person.  We can joke about meds-- take a Xanax-- you'll feel so much better....  but boy is it hard to admit you are really on them.

Besides being so unaccepted by society, the medications used to treat depression and other mental disorders can have multiple, major side effects.  Weight gain/ weight loss, tremors, insomnia, drowsiness, sexual side effects....  the list goes on and on.  Over the years I have suffered with depression, I really wish I had at some point started a spreadsheet with all the medications I have tried and stopped and the side effects.  I've been on Lexapro, Cymbalta, Zoloft, Celexa and I can't even remember the rest.  I've given up on trying to find the best medication and am just hopeful now for "the lesser of the evils."

When I "tumbled off the deep end" last summer, my current doc prescribed Wellbutrin for my depression and Xanax for my panic attacks.

The Xanax didn't really help the panic attacks-- it helped keep me from bursting into unstoppable tears (this was one of my main symptoms-- it was like I got to the top of a rollercoaster and once I started the downslide, the tears just would NOT stop.  I could cry non stop for 3-4 hours-- even if I wasn't sobbing crying, the tears just kept flowing.  I was starting to wonder if I might have some kind of eye infection instead of a mental disorder).  However, the quickened pulse, the shallow breathing, the feeling of falling, unfortunately is still present when I am in a situation that makes me anxious.  Fortunately, I have learned to cope better with those situations, and so they are farther apart.  My prescription is "as needed," and I've gone from "needing" several times a week to maybe once or twice a month.

The Welbutrin did help, after a while.  I know that this and other antidepressants take time to build up in your system and counteract the chemical imbalance in your brain that is causing your depression, but the waiting for them to start acting can be agonizing.  But eventually, they do-- they start doing what they are supposed to do and they really do HELP. This particular one even had no noticeable side effects, unless I can blame it for the ten pounds I've added but I think my distant gym membership is more to blame.

The hardest thing is stopping though.  Once the medication is in your system, you start feeling good.  You feel like you can actually accomplish things and not want to cry every 10 minutes. Even if you have physical side effects, you just feel BETTER.  As you start accomplishing things and getting out more and mending your relationships that have suffered so much from your depression, you start thinking maybe you've gotten through it--- maybe you are OVER your depression. ("Can't you just get OVER it?"--the worst thing you can say to us).  So you stop, or like me, you just start forgetting.  Then a couple of weeks later-- when you look at a sinkful of dishes or dread crawling out of bed (yes, I know we all love snuggling in our bed, but a depressed person often feels real, agonizing DREAD-- it's a horrible feeling) or just try to think back to a fun time in your life, you feel the tears welling up.  You feel your stomach churning.  You feel the feeling like you are falling again into a pit and cannot crawl up the steep, damp sides.

And you know.  You're not healed.  The depression is still a part of you, the medication was just masking it.  You know you are going to fall farther and deeper and faster this time.  Unless you go find that bottle, fill up your pill dispenser, and start over.  And wait.  And finally, thankfully, blessedly, you find relief as your brain chemistry once again evens out.

I had a big family event last week, and we traveled nearly 600 miles, after four sleepless nights finishing up decorations and last minute details.  We slept at a relatives and then at a hotel and I just got BUSY.  I forgot my meds.  I think I may have taken two or three doses over the last two weeks.  And I thought, just for a little bit, that I had had enough.  That this blog and my lifestyle changes and my time on meds had done the trick.  But I was wrong.  I'm not okay yet.  I still need the meds to get through the day, the week, the month.  I hope I will not need them someday soon, but not this day.  This day, I am still on meds.

Yours in healing,
Nena

Kidney Party Weekend!

This is a very special weekend for me, for those of you who don't know our story.  My sister Carol was diagnosed with Lupus, an auto immune disorder, when she was 16.  Her body attacked itself for 9 long years, and she almost died multiple times.  After attacks on nearly every major body system, the lupus attacked her kidneys in 1991 and they failed.  We knew about transplants and that the best chance for a working kidney was from a  sibling or close relative.  We were all tested.  During the long wait for the tests to return, Carol had to endure dialysis for hours several times a week.  The dialysis would make her weak and nauseous but it kept her alive.

Unfortunately, Greg and I were trying to have a 2nd baby while we were waiting for the tests, and on the day we learned we were a match, we also learned we were pregnant with Jared.  So Carol endured more waiting and dialysis, while I carried and delivered Jared.  But we had learned that I was a "perfect" six-antigen match for Carol--the best you could get, and that my kidney was healthy as a horse, in fact, both were.

Doctors assured us that the other kidney would increase in both size and capacity to cover the load of the donated one, and that I was just as much at risk for kidney disease or failure later in life with one as with two.  I was also assured that I would still be able to have another baby (as evidenced by Danica) later.

Two months after Jared was born
, the amazing transplant team at Sierra Medical in El Paso wheeled us into adjoining rooms.  They knocked me out, flipped me onto my side and sliced an 8 inch incision into my side.  They had to partially remove a rib to reach the kidney.  The kidney was then rushed to her bed next door (she only got a tiny incision near her bikini line because they leave the old ones in) and doctors came out and hugged our family when the kidney immediately started making pee!

Although we were challenged multiple times by potential rejection, we continued to pray and have faith and eventually it settled in for the long haul.  Her lupus seemed to give up at that point and she never had another major flare up.

All this happened 20 years ago, on August 4, 1993.  Since then, Carol gave birth to a son, sent him to
heaven a month later, married her wonderful husband, who came with her 2nd son, Rene, went to college and obtained a nursing degree, and bought the beautiful home in the foothills of the Franklin Mountains where we will gather with friends and family and celebrate together this Saturday.  We are wearing white to represent her new life and green ribbons which are the color of Organ Donor Awareness.

Please continue to pray for her health, and that of all kidney patients.  And consider becoming a living donor.  I am LIVING PROOF that you can lead a healthy, full life with only one kidney.  As of today, there are over 118,000 people waiting for an organ transplant.  Of those, 96,000 are waiting for a kidney.  I'm sure there are more than 96,000 Americans who would be willing to share theirs and donate the gift of LIFE to someone.  Contact http://www.kidney.org/transplantation/livingdonors/ to find out more.