I am hesitant about writing this post because of the stigma mental illness entails. What will you think of me after reading this? Also I am not sure I can give justice for all who suffer from mental illness. But all I can do is just share my story and hope it can make others feel less alone. Because of the seriousness of the subject, my tone will be more solemn and less flippant.
When I was pregnant with my 7 year old Moe, I became a complete insomniac, going days without sleeping. After an extended period of time of no sleep, two things happened. First I began having contractions early and second a weird sense of panic became my body's status quo. I wasn't able to eat, sleep, go into public, and unable get lost in any activities that once held my attention. Physically, I constantly had a "hee bee gee bee" twitter moving from my stomach up into my chest causing, shortness of breath, tremors, and uncontrollable crying. I distinctly remember trying to get out of the house by going to Steak and Shake. When the food came, I spiraled into one of these crazy attacks and had to rush to the car before eating. My OB put me on the SSRI Paxil, the sleep aid Ambien, and Xanax to get through my pregnancy. As the Paxil built up in my system and the Ambien allowed me to sleep my "crazy" subsided. When Moe came I guess my my new mom hormones kicked the panic's ass and I was in post c-section bliss. At the time I was diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) and continued with the Paxil and talked with a psychologist weekly. He was a special character in my journey because he was more of a grandfather figure to me who often repeated the same Bill Cosby quote over and over again. But since Kyle and Mom were the only ones who knew I was struggling with this, he was comforting to talk to. I was so guarded about my condition, he had to spend three session convincing me I was not "crazy." However, after several stable months I was released from the psychologist and life continued as usual.
After five years, the anxiety reared it's ugly head again. In 2010, I became thyrotoxic and my whole body system was working on over drive and my nerves could not take it any longer and my panic set in. The same "hee bee gee bee" twitter came back except worse. It was so bad we had to send the kids to KC for the grandmas to care of the kids while I was in and out of the hospital dealing with this Thyroid Storm and the accompanying panic. My Columbian family doctor was my champion and kept reminding me that I wasn't crazy and he reminded the hospital nurses I wasn't crazy either. He consulted with a trusted Psychiatrist to see me. The psychiatrist was not a warm and fuzzy personality and I was uncomfortable with him at first. However, he saw me everyday and listened to me. He changed my diagnosis from Generalized Anxiety Disorder to a Panic Disorder because my episodes were not a constant state, but only occurred after a medical situation. The treatment was a little different for a Panic Disorder. He kept me on Paxil, but upped my Xananx to three times a day. He also educated me that a Panic Disorder is a condition that becomes acute after triggers. Triggers vary based on the person. My trigger in my pregnancy was sleep and now 5 years later it had morphed into medical situations (not a easy trigger to eliminate as my brain was beginning to deteriorate). After we were able to stabilize my thyroid and I was able to stay out of hospitals and doctor's offices my panic subsided. Until after my 1st surgery to place the shunt.
I was waiting for the panic to debilitate me in the weeks leading up to the surgery, but it never came. Then the 3 weeks after the surgery it still didn't come. However, it hit hard around Valentine's day 2012. I would wake up with that intense "hee bee gee bee". And it lasted all day EVERYDAY. It was so bad I remember I couldn't muster enough strength to get out of a recliner in my living room to go visit my father-in-law who had just had a surgery to remove half his pancreas as a first step in his journey of pancreatic cancer. I tried to find a new Kansas City psychiatrist, but met with a doctor who during my initial consult never looked up from her computer and discontinued the Xanax and put me on another drug that drug me into a dark depression (depression was NOT something I had dealt with). To be totally honest, I was physically hurting myself so I didn't have to feel the pain of the depression I was slipping into. When we told her that the new drug was worsening my situation she insisted that the drug would not be doing that. After that, we decided that we would just make the trip back to Columbia to see my psychiatrist that had helped my with my thyroid situation. He comforted me saying the new drug's number one side effect was depression, so he put me back on Xananx.
During this episode, I did what I hadn't ever done before and shared my story with friends and through sharing I realized a lot of people deal with anxiety and depression. Family and friends were able to help me by listening, inviting me to bible studies, taking me for frozen yogurt, and just empathizing with me. I specifically found a friend who suffers from panic and she began to be my text buddy offering constant encouragement and support during attacks.
During this time my trigger had change again from the medical community to specifically to doctors. Basta could send me into attack just by me having to speak to his secretary on the phone. I would put off making follow-up appointments and refuse to see him when I needed to see him (hence why I didn't see him after scratching my head on the the shunt valve). I remember calling to make an appointment while I was driving, but I was anticipating only having to talk to his receptionist, but that damn receptionist sent my call to Basta's lovely NP and her voice gave me an attack so bad I had to pull over on the side of the road so I could talk to her without crashing. Then after getting off the phone I had to stay on the side of the road so I could cry, let my tremors calm, and get my breathing under control. Luckily his efficient treatment with the infection and relaxed appointment I had with him Thursday has calmed my panic a bit...I think.
Also I am lucky enough to have a family doctor who I have known since high school. He helped me when my shunt valve was malfunctioning, Actually, he was the ONLY doctor helping me resolve the a passing out issue. We were very comfortable with him. However, even talking with him would cause panic and I had known him for years. Furthermore, he had only shown true professionalism and compassion for my situation. However, it was just too much for me to step into his office. Luckily he communicated with me (and most of the times with Kyle) via phone and text, so I wouldn't have to come into the office.
Through my whole mental instability, I realize I am lucky. I have insurance that will pay for counseling, medicine, and psychiatry. I have the support of my family when panic rules my mind, and I have friends that make me feel like I am not alone. Not everyone has this luxury of acquiring the necessary resources. Even worse, they are scared to seek help because they are afraid of the stigma. In wake of Newtown CT, I think treatment for psychological issues should be just as important as a diabetic getting help for their unstable blood sugars. Lastly just because someone deals with a mental issue, doesn't mean they are crazy. I am a functioning adult who deals with mental instability. True treatment started when I could talk to others about my condition and not be judged. When I could determine my triggers and use medication to reduce the panic I began to heal, but healing only came with help.
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