To Be Bat-Shit Crazy, or not to be Bat-Shit Crazy……Those are the Unfortunte Questions

I apologize; I just figured with all I’ve been through mentally and physically lately that the title was fitting.

Since coming forward repeatedly on MWOP with issues regarding gastric bypass surgery, medication absorption, medication changes, anxiety/panic attacks I decided to blog about it. There are a lot of you who talk privately with me about your weight and/or mental illness, so I dedicate this post to all of you who struggle daily like I do. Now at the beginning of the surgery (just over one year ago) I had been on the same medication regimen for a little over 2 years. We’ll start at the beginning:

11/2012

Weight:  293.5

Medications:

Wellbutrin 100 mg three times a day

Zoloft 100 mg a day

Gabapentin 300 mg a day

Seroquel (for sleep) 50-100 mg

February 2013

Weight:  245-ish

After complaining to my PCP about increasing anxiety and panic she figured that is was a medication absorption issue. She increased my Zoloft to 150 mg a day and provided some Ativan to use as needed for severe feelings of panic.

May 2013

Weight 205

Started seeing new psychiatrist at the urging of my PCP for professional management of my mental health issues—namely depression and anxiety were going through the roof.

Wellburtrin stayed at 100 mg three times a day

Zoloft increased to 250 mg a day

Seroquel increased to 100-200 mg for sleep

Gabapentin 300 mg day

NEW med:  Remeron 15 mg at bedtime. Helps with sleep. Causes weight gain.

ANXIETY:  Takes me off of Ativan as needed. Gives me something in the same family of Ativan and at a teeny, tiny dose. I think my 90 pound Maw-Maw wouldn’t have been phased by the dose.

End of September/Beginning of October 2013

Weight 200 lbs (Thanks, Remeron!)

I am in a near constant state of nervousness and panic. I have tremors in my hands, and my left eyelid twitches uncontrollably. See my PCP who takes me off Remeron, reduces my Wellbutrin to 50 mg three times a day (the less I weigh the less I need), puts me back on anxiety medication, gives me a bear hug (she is also a friend) and lets me cry for a few minutes. Recommends new psychiatrist.

Last Week

Weight:  205 (haven’t been in a good state of mind for a few months therefore haven’t exercised. At all.)

Saw my new psychiatrist, Dr. C. I love this man. We had a two hour session, and went over everything in detail. He took good notes. He told me I was having legitimate problems and was not going crazy. He said that the Wellbutrin at 100 mg three times a day was too much for me now and likely accounted for the hand/eyelid tremors. He also mentioned that Wellbutrin and Zoloft in higher doses worsen anxiety. (HELLO!!!!!) He is weaning me off the Zoloft and starting me on a low dose of Paxil. He continued the Ativan as needed as his way of thinking I may need help on the side until we get me in a good place. He also gave a me a small dose of s short-acting sleeping pill to turn my brain off and let me fall asleep.

And today:

I am feeling better. The new lower dose of Wellbutrin 50 mg three times a day works will and does not cause any side effects. Coming of Zoloft and starting Paxil are fine. I’m sleeping well but still having problems relaxing so I use the anxiety meds when I need to. I’m not supposed to drink alcohol, but when I thought I was going crazy I brought back the cocktail hour, and I need to stop. FYI, the cocktail hour consists of two vodka martinis or two glasses of Pinot Noir. I figure the alcohol and lack of exercise are stalling my weight loss because I’m still not eating a whole lot. My goal now is to go from a size 16/18 to a 14 by Christmas.

If any of you would like to discuss your problems/comments/questions, etc in the comments section that is fine. Just remember I’m not even a nurse anymore! If you’d feel more comfortable talking privately you can always reach me at thesnortfiles@gmail.com

Getting Caught Up

It has been a whole month and half since I’ve sat here and blogged, and to tell you the truth, I really haven’t missed it much. The boys are doing well. Footlong turned 8, loves second grade, and was a police officer for Halloween. 6-inch receives speech therapy once a week, and while he still isn’t speaking verbally his non-verbal communicational skills have improved by leaps and bounds. We’re looking to get him into a sensory therapist, and he is on the waiting list to see a development at the University Hospital. For Halloween he was a baby biker dude and was supposed to wear a red do-rag to complete the costume, but we are at the phase where he will allow NOTHING on his head.

As for me all of the changes in my psychiatric medications had me close to a nervous breakdown. I had been self-medicating with anti-anxiety and even started drinking vodka martinis to help calm myself down. I realized I was in a bad place and I saw my PCP who urged me to find another psychiatrist. He is wonderful, and with me sporting my heels I’m about an taller than he is. He was flabbergasted at some of the stuff the old psychiatrist had me on. He halved the Wellbutrin (I knew I was taking too much!), took me off of Zoloft because in high doses (250mg here!) can cause anxiety. I weaning off Zoloft and started on a low dose of Paxil which seems to work better with chronic anxiety. My night-night medication stayed the same, and he gave a script for Ativan to take daily until my system “finally comes together [his worlds not mine]. Nice guy.

The Jackson 4 has never celebrated Thanksgiving with a traditional turkey and stuffing meal. No sir. Every year I pull out my two Bon Apetit cookbooks and one Gourmet magazine and write down a bunch of choices. From thousands of pages we whittled the choices down to about 80 or so. We agreed easily enough on the app, wanted to try lamp chops for the protein since we’ve never had lamb, I chose the starch, and J chose the veggie. Dessert was unanimous:  Pumpkin praline tiramisu.

I’m so glad to have made some friends here. The first is Cha from Australia I believe (Cch@hotmail.au) with a handy dandy number of 198.228.228.38.  Her endearing message to me:  Ur a pig. Not funny. Get off MWOP. U suck.”   Thanks for taking the time to write in, Cha. Now piss off.

My new friend seems equally as lovely. Her name is Coco and writes to us from Coco16733@hotmail.com  and an ID of 72.23.92.138. Carmen your such a fucking hypocrite.  You think you are the queen of mwop and all you are is a fat attention seeker. Go take care of your kids or better yet clean your pigsty house. You make me sick and you are the laughing stock of mwop.  What in the fuck are we, Coco? Thirteen year old girls You wanna come and pull my hair before I dig my fingers in your eyes? Sheesh.

I am the very first one will stand honestly and proudly and talk about my mistakes, problems, shortcomings, etc. I choose to rag on Jennifer not to be mean but total incredulity and in hopes that the bitch will get her shit together. I don’t care what all of you think of me. I invited folks to join me for Thanksgiving if they didn’t have any family or were lonely. Got downvoted there (boo fucking hoo). I made mention how to help survivors of Super Typhoon Hiyuan by texting numbers and each text worth $10. Got pissed on that one too. I offered some comforting words to a fellow MWOPer going through a miscarriage—even got downvoted there. . Some of you bitches just need to grow up and put on your big girl panties. I don’t have to hide behind an email name or vote someone down just because I can remain anonymous. That’s all I imagine:  a pen full of yellow bellied chickens.  Speaking of chicken I need to pull dinner out of the freezer.