Aftermath

My doctor called me back today. I told her about the epic panic attack yesterday, and asked if it was possible I had a paradoxical reaction to the propranolol. She said that anything is possible, but her gut feeling is that it was a fluke. That does not mean, however, that the new medication did not trigger the attack. She explained that my anxiety level is so high that any change may have the potential to trigger panic. She really took her time to listen to me, and had no problem refilling my clonazepam and upping my dose of that from .5 to 1 mg. (Half a milligram isn't cutting it anymore.) Moreover, she says that she trusts me. That means so much. I have, in the past, had so much trouble with my psychiatrists in terms of prescribing benzos that this is a welcome change. We had, during my appointment, discussed upping my escitalopram as well. It's off-label to take more than 20 mg daily, but I have been on up to 40 mg previously. After talking with me today, she decided to up my dose to 30 mg daily. Her main concern was that it could trigger manic episodes, but I don't remember that happening even when I was on 40 mg. (At the time, I was not on any mood stabilisers either.) She called it into my pharmacy, and Matt picked it up on the way home.

Also good news: we are making some headway with the bed bugs. We are going to get another estimate tomorrow, and it will likely be a much more reasonable price than the ones we have been given so far. Also, we will have the option to make payments. This will make things much more manageable. They're still only in Matt's room (knock-on-wood), and hopefully we will be able to take care of things pretty quickly now. I know that having the little fuckers invading our space has seriously impacted my baseline anxiety and depression. I'm hoping that getting it taken care of will allow me to relax.

Today was a wash in terms of productivity, and that's okay. I fought -- and won -- a major battle yesterday, and exhaustion is to be expected. After the exterminator left, I slept most of the afternoon and evening. Matt says he came in to check on me when he got home from work, and that I smiled at him, but I have no memory of that at all. Nonetheless, I am here at a coffee house now, writing this entry. Matt was good enough to realise that I needed to get out of the house, so we did. This entry, at least, is an accomplishment.

I can't begin to describe the intense relief I feel when a GMPA is over. Even without drugs, it's almost euphoric. I suppose it's endorphins replacing the adrenaline. I don't want or expect euphoria, but I would love to feel that calm all the time, or at least most of the time, without having to fight a war with my brain to do it. I think that my ultimate goal, through meds and therapy, is to get my baseline to that point. Clear head, with enough energy to do things. That's all I really want.

Today I am grateful for better living through chemistry. I'm grateful for my psychiatrist. I'm grateful for headway made with the bedbug situation. I'm grateful for the peaceful sleep I got this afternoon. I'm grateful for this moment with Matt at Cup'O'Joe, just hanging out, drinking a frozen chai (I'm laying off the coffee for a little while), and our plans to meet friends at North Market for breakfast tomorrow. I'm grateful that I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow afternoon. I'm also grateful for my friends, who do their best to encourage me when the shit hits the fan.

Anyway, coffee house is closing soon, so I'm gonna wrap up.