Day Two

So day two was mostly spent with the prescribing therapist. After the ridiculous amount of time it took to get to the doctors office at all because some idiot thought planting succulents in the 1 foot margin between lanes of traffic on 19th was going to impact global warming. Keep dreaming San Francisco.

The advice nurse yesterday said I would like this psychiatrist because she was professional. I thought, that is a weird thing to say, I would hope all psychiatrists would be professional - I mean, they are going to mess with my brain chemistry, but I am agitated enough that I'm game. And it turns out, I think I know what she meant. I watched the psychiatrists and psychologists come out to the waiting room for patients and so many of them were so casually and comfortably dressed. My doctor had on a suit. That gave me more confidence than the woman in head to toe purple tie dye, with purple crocs. And yes, she was a therapist, the person sitting next to me got up and went with her when she called their name.

So, this managed to be a 50 minute appointment, and I am pretty sure that the details are still a little unclear but we managed. It turns out there is not a drug that cures "I am crawling out of my skin" and "practically crashing the car when the phone rings" but we decided, as they often do, that the stuff that is technically for depression will work for anxiety. And I now have 3 prescriptions. Interestingly, all three of them mess with my serotonin, and one of them says to watch for serotonin syndrome if I am taking multiple serotonin drugs. Two are for getting me settled down while the third starts to take effect. Nothing like jumping in with both feet, I suppose. As long as I don't wind up in emergency. But, she was wearing a suit, and this is a usual combination for her to prescribe, so, I'll trust the suit.

Tonight I will take the sleeping one, and see how that helps. If I don't like it, I don't have to take it, and the melatonin seems to have worked ok last night, so I might just stick with that if this new thing makes my mouth taste like vomit in the morning. It turns out that  I've got to be really, really desperate before I am willing to wake up with vomit mouth, which I did when I took a muscle relaxer to slow up that migraine I gave myself the day before yesterday. 

Last night was actually quite fine. First, I let myself not talk to anyone about anything I didn't want to, and I let myself not think about anything I didn't want to think about. Second, I went to a chapter wide logistics meeting for the Red Cross. And I got to hang with the guys and no one cares if I feel all weepy, so consequently, I don't get all weepy. And I get to talk systems, which just makes me happy all over. And I totally abandoned my people to their own devices and I was gone for 5 1/2 hours, 2.5 of which was spent in traffic. Not awesome, but I did try to leave San Francisco at rush hour. 

I count today a win. Except for the 50 minutes spent sobbing in the psychiatrists office, I only burst into tears 3 times. Well, it's 2:30 in the afternoon, so I suppose there is still time, but really, the shaking has stopped and although my hair is still making my skin crawl, at least I'm not considering shaving it off anymore. ( I did this in college. Some girls look totally hot with really short hair, I am not some girl who looks hot with really short hair. And I hate the 3 years of grow out that it takes to have long hair again. Even when I am not twitching with anxiety and panic, I can't stand hair in my face, and I actually will still chew on my hair like a grade schooler without even knowing. I'm 40 now. If I can't quit, I can at least be old enough to stay out of those situations.)

Goal for tomorrow. Taking the beta blocker one, and seeing if I get too dizzy to drive, which, if that is the case, will put them right out of the running, and then, probably I won't need to worry too much about serotonin syndrome.