THE INITIAL EFFEXOR EVENT, PART 1

(this true story is taken from what I wrote a few months after the events I depict)

Dr. O tried me on this relatively new antidepressant because it, like Wellbutrin, was touted for its low incidence of sexual side effects. This kept being the pivotal issue. I kept feeling that, if only I could get a handle on my lack of sex drive, I could get a handle on the challenges of my relationship with my husband. It was not important to me that I enjoy sex. It was important to me that I be able to make sex enjoyable for him, and that was important to me because I wanted to provide a happy home for my kids. I was not taking medication at all for myself, really. I just wanted to be able to be okay so others could rely on me, depend on me, count on me. That was what I needed for myself - just to feel dependable.
I made the mistake of trying to make the switch to Effexor the week we went back to my husband's home town for a visit. We had lived in there for four years after my son was born, and the time had been hard for me. I enjoyed seeing my relations there again, had even missed them, but going back was always like going back to prison, somehow. I had felt captive in that place, bound to the property where we lived by lack of transportation, lack of money, lack of friends, lack of optimal health following both births. My own family had been peculiarly distant during that time of my life, even though four of my sisters lived within easy driving distance for the vast majority of my stay. The one exception had been after my daughter was born, when they converged to help as they could. But mostly I’d been left to my own devices. I didn’t blame anybody for this; it’s just the way things were.
So the return was already wrought with a degree of melancholy. The added miasma brought on by the effects of the Effexor made the entire trip seem especially dreary. I managed to keep my head above water well enough during the visit, but school started the following week, and by the time I got back I was fed up with feeling numb and detached. I had a demanding semester ahead of me, I was nearing graduation, and I needed to be at the top of my game. I decided to stop taking the Effexor, and talk to Dr. O about just trying to go without any medication for a while. The week got busy fast, however, and I kept putting off calling him, which would prove to be a big mistake, but I don't think even he knew how bad it would get.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday went fairly well. By Thursday, I was starting to feel a little frazzled, but figured it was just because I’d been running hard and fast for two straight weeks. My mind was so full of school, the kids, household business, and so forth, that I had completely put calling Dr. O on the back burner. I thought maybe I just needed a little pick-me-up, so I went shopping with my neighbor to buy a new outfit for my teaching fellowship. When I threw up in the waste basket in the dressing room, I thought maybe I was starting to come down with a flu bug.
I spent Friday in bed, and every hour I felt a little worse. I kept telling myself, well, the bug just needs to run its course, and once it gets through your system, you’ll be fine. I kept waiting for that turning point in illness, when you feel like you’ve reached the worst point, and you start climbing back out again. It never came.