Medicate vs. non-medicate
Ok, this is my last blog about my recent experiences in the hospital before I move on to more important topics, such as Micahel Moore's movie Sicko, the beauty that is Beertopia on 38th and Farnam and whether Rolling Stone was right in saying the Guliani WAS worse than our current president.
Both hospitalizations did not end up like a scene in a My Chemical Romance video, with me strapped down to a bed, drugged and locked in isolation. Both times, I was hooked up to a monitor, had sticky tape that was a bitch to peel off and occasionally, a bit of oxygen. After finally getting to my doctor - the diagnosis was clear: panic attacks. Something I've never experienced before.
Ala Tony Soprano, I was referred to a psychiatrist, who prescribed me two meds. I called my doc before embarking on either one (names of med withheld for no other reason in that I don't feel like divulging). My doc, who pretty much prescribes a home remedy before any med, gave the green light to both.
I was still hoping to somehow find some sort of all-powerful combination of chamomile tea, intense journaling, solid friend support, yoga and whatever. But two nights ago, I woke up in the same state. Heart racing "the fear" gripping. I was to a point where I actually started to think of a late-era U2 song: "Sometimes You Can't Make it On Your Own" - true, the person who is offering to help is a person and not a med, but the chorus stuck. Like any other medication, I don't plan on being on it any longer than I have to be - but if I had an ear infection, a sprained ankle, bronchitis, I, along with a vast majority of the population would be on board to get their necessary meds to fix these ailments. But whenever a problem deals with any sort of anxiety/depression or other mental issue, a stigma still remains in seeking out treatment. It probably doesn't help matters when that field is one of the most frequent targets of abuse by patients and a vast number the under-$30,000 a year crowd who may need such care do not have proper access.
Both hospitalizations did not end up like a scene in a My Chemical Romance video, with me strapped down to a bed, drugged and locked in isolation. Both times, I was hooked up to a monitor, had sticky tape that was a bitch to peel off and occasionally, a bit of oxygen. After finally getting to my doctor - the diagnosis was clear: panic attacks. Something I've never experienced before.
Ala Tony Soprano, I was referred to a psychiatrist, who prescribed me two meds. I called my doc before embarking on either one (names of med withheld for no other reason in that I don't feel like divulging). My doc, who pretty much prescribes a home remedy before any med, gave the green light to both.
I was still hoping to somehow find some sort of all-powerful combination of chamomile tea, intense journaling, solid friend support, yoga and whatever. But two nights ago, I woke up in the same state. Heart racing "the fear" gripping. I was to a point where I actually started to think of a late-era U2 song: "Sometimes You Can't Make it On Your Own" - true, the person who is offering to help is a person and not a med, but the chorus stuck. Like any other medication, I don't plan on being on it any longer than I have to be - but if I had an ear infection, a sprained ankle, bronchitis, I, along with a vast majority of the population would be on board to get their necessary meds to fix these ailments. But whenever a problem deals with any sort of anxiety/depression or other mental issue, a stigma still remains in seeking out treatment. It probably doesn't help matters when that field is one of the most frequent targets of abuse by patients and a vast number the under-$30,000 a year crowd who may need such care do not have proper access.
Labels: Anti-anxiety meds
posted by TransformerGeek at 2:37 PM
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