Well, that's probably not technically irony (I'm sure C will confirm or correct), but, yes, I have yet another prescription. You know it's not good when your doctor has a serious, thoughtful expression on his face, and let's the appointment run long so we can decide on what to add or whether to just switch to something else. I can't even imagine what he was considering switching me.
In the end, we decided on adding, and he gave me a refill script for the amb.ien, and for the cym.balta. After I asked about possible effects of all the drugs on my liver and kidneys, etc., he gave me a script for bloodwork. He practically used up half a script pad on me.
As I've said, I am doing better, I know I am. I think he even changed my dx from severe to moderate. But not better enough. Especially considering the dosage and medications. And as I drove down to my appointment, I thought, I kind of feel better. And sometimes I wonder if I am, as C has suggested, sometimes resist forward movement. And then I sat down in the doctor's office and burst into tears.
He said that he thinks that the confluence of things like anniversaries and my stupid brother are making this period of grief and depression a little tougher, and he wanted to give me something to help me "get over the hump", just something temporary. Temporary? Maybe three months. Three months?? And that's not even counting the stuff for anxiety and for depression. I can feel my eggs dying off as I type. (My family history does not give me hope for long lasting fertility). I'll be 39 in July.
As he gave me each script and reviewed how to titrate the new one, I kind of shook my head or sighed, or something, and he said, I know, it seems like a lot. This is just to get you through this temporary hump.
Oh, and I screwed up the appointment time. I got this appointment right, but it conflicted with my therapist's regular time. We've had a lot of weather so this was a rescheduled pharm appt, and I thought my therapist was going to away. Mess, mess, mess.
I came home (after a brief stop at Ta.rget) instead of stopping for lunch or going to school, and found dog poop in the hall and the kitchen and a very sorry looking dog. I was only gone 6 hours, same as yesterday, and she was fine.
Dog training was fine, I guess, we have a lot of work to do. As a beagle she is so distracted, by smells... everything, and I was just not feeling it. Burst into tears as soon as we got in the car. Now the dog is sweetly snoring on her bed, and my fast food sits on my nightstand, aging, not well.
Thank you all so much for all your love and comments. I love you, my friends in the computer. I want to write to you all individually to respond, but at this point I hope you'll understand and accept my undying gratitude. I don't know what I would do without you.