The gods of t’internet must have noticed that ‘Fluoxetine’ was looming disproportionately large over the category cloud at the right of this blog, and have realised that for it still to be that dominant (in a bad way), som’ing was up. Or maybe that was just me. Either way, that category will loom no larger as I have a new one to replace it.
So yeh, I guess we’re back to Day One again, so to speak.
I thought I’d spare you the Wikipedia-combing this time :-)
So, I averaged 84% in my second year exams. On a three year course, 2nd:3rd year weighs 2:3 – on a four year course, 2nd:3rd:4th year weighs 2:3:4 (rather satisfyingly!). I would like a first. Whether or not I stay on the four year course, maintaining an average of 70% would require me to get 61% this year; to get a lower borderline 2:1 I’d need 44%, or to average a scraped pass at 40%, I’d need 11%*.
I can decide to repeat third year at any time up until the start of my first exam, and would be granted the concession to do so. There are big implications to any course of action – academically, financially, and erm, mentally. My degree, as it stands, is pretty screwed but I can’t work out how irretrievably screwed, especially as my prospective brain-state is such an unknown; I go and see the doctor again in about a week’s time, and I think that the chances are high that I’ll be changing medication.
Hum…
x
*Hey, worst case scenario, right?!
To take or not to take, that is the question. Is the precedent really worth following?
(Seeing as you all had so much fun with the last molecule-related clue… Hint: I’m still on the fluoxetine)
….because I really can’t be bothered to work it out at this time of night.
It must be so frustrating to have Parkinson’s. Turns out that accurate tracing with shaking hands is nigh-on impossible, but at least I have the consolation that I know what’s causing it and that it might go away someday (soon?). On the plus-side, though, today has been OK. Not quite a Day 27 (as it shall henceforth be known), but an OK-verging-on-good day nonetheless. Which is nice.
x
I’ve just returned from Shropshire, where my family and I spent a few days over New Year. Rather pretty, to say the least :-)
[photos to follow when I've the energy to upload them. But they are pretty, I promise!]
: Now with extra added early hours insomnia!
…or Day One of double dosage, 40mg.
Please, please, please, please?
Day 27 was good, and it finally felt like the Fluoxetine was doing something positive. Day 28 was catastrophic. Day 29 was OK, but not great. Day 30 was, if anything, worse than Day 28.
Today is Day 31. Pills come in packs of thirty, so I opened up the new bag from the pharmacist this morning. Being a generic drug, I’ve been given capsules manufactured by a different company. The old ones were green and pale yellow. These new ones are pale blue and white, and have a different code number on. It shouldn’t matter, but it does…
x
Bopping about the internet, as one does, I seem to have come across an increasing number of blogs which relate to depression, and people’s struggles with thereof. Some people, like me, integrate it into their normal blogs, which itself chronicles how much it’s taking over their life at any one time. Some people have separate ‘depression blogs’ – it’s a place where they can talk about it without their friends seeing, maybe, or a way of letting it all out without it dominating what else they might want to write. These ones tend to explore the issues behind the immediate crazyness/ pill-taking, so I would imagine are relatively more therapeutic.
There are a few which I read regularly, and have been doing so for some months now. I won’t link to them, or not yet anyway. But while it’s not exactly a cheerful choice of reading matter, it’s quite comforting to know that other people are out there, and more comforting still to recognise the differences. Depressives have as many personality variations and as many ways of dealing with stuff as any other section of the population, and that is something that I think is very easy for other people to forget.
Today I’ve been OK. All on a relative scale, of course, still slightly crazy, and still constantly physically shaking with tension. But my mood has somehow felt lighter, especially as the day has gone on. Good things have happened, and I actively enjoyed my friend’s comedy show this evening (rather than it being something to get through, laughing on the outside but being inwardly detached).
It’s one day, and tomorrow I go back to the doctors’. But it’s one day at a time, and for this evening, at least, I am thankful.
My new hobby: seeing how honestly I can answer the question “How are you?”.
Level 1:
“Hey Lucy, how are you?”
“I’m… I’m awesome, how are you?”
“Yeah, I’m good thanks!”
“Awesome.”
Level 2:
“How are things going?”
“I think I might be a little crazy…”
“And me, I’ve got SO much work.”
“Y’know, fluoxetine’s good?”
“Oh? Cool… I’ll see you later.” (goes in for Trevs lunch)
Level 3:
“Hi, how are you?!” (in greengrocers)
“Erm, wrong question… sorry…”
“Sorry, I said ‘How are you?’”
“I’m… I’m having something of a mental breakdown. How are you? Lovely weather outside, isn’t it? Bit cold for the time of year.”
“I’m, erm, fine…”
“Mushrooms, I need mushrooms… *pause, fix Maths guy with stare and enunciate clearly*… Unfortunately I’m not joking.”
(makes excuse and scarpers)
There were people in purple t-shirts in town a few days back, advertising mentalhealth.org.uk. They were collaring passers-by (metaphorically, fear not) and I really wanted one of them to come up to me. “No, please do tell me about depression. I have no idea. What is it like to be on crazy pills?”. I was also very tempted to change my Facebook picture to Edward Monkton’s “We must TAKE our TABLETS or else we will GO MAD” but my housemates dissuaded me from the idea.
One of my friends has told me that he loves my new bitter sense of humour. I didn’t quite have the heart to tell him that the only thing new about it is that I’ve started saying it out loud.
It’s very, very cold in Durham at the minute, and very, very beautiful. The sun is out as I type this, but there have been a couple of times in the last twenty-four hours when I have looked out of my bedroom window to see downy snow flakes drifting on the breeze, and my hands and ears are currently icy, having just come back from an emergency food-shopping expedition.
I can see the beauty and I can feel the beauty, but only in my head, not in my heart. Or perhaps the other way round. It’s very hard to tell these days.
Unfortunately when they tell you that the drugs make you crazy, they aren’t kidding.
Recent Comments