The Post-Game Wrap-Up

Ahhh…….this is more like it. More predictable. More comprehensible. More me.

A full week has passed since my brain’s transmission shifted into Drive, and I couldn’t be happier. I didn’t realize how bad things really were until the past couple of days; was it really only three weeks ago that I was desperate to run away? And why, oh why, couldn’t I see what was happening to me and call Dr. Awesomesauce instead of enduring SIX WEEKS of that nonsense?

I know the answer to that, of course: because it was a mixed episode and I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag, let alone a complex and confusing syndrome such as this. I knew something was terribly wrong but I couldn’t tell up from down, nor could I figure out what may have caused it. Which is hard to deal with when you’re as analytical as I am and you can’t put a finger on any one thing.

So now that it’s over, it seems like a good time to do a little Monday-morning quarterbacking and try to understand what happened. In retrospect, I think the extreme stress of that five-hour road trip in the worst weather conditions I’ve ever been in, followed swiftly by the auto accident that resulted in a broken toe, might have touched it off; trouble is, I labeled the whole shebang as “situational” without considering the fact that even situational mood swings still deserve treatment.

I kept telling everyone who voiced their concerns that you can’t medicate everything away, and I still believe that. But I guess you CAN medicate the part of it that belongs to your disease, because that’s what Dr. A did and it broke the damned thing’s back. It took over a week, and there were some pretty grim days in between; but when it started getting better, it got much better and now I’ve had a full week of normal without feeling so flattened emotionally. I get irritated at stupid drivers, I enjoy a good meal and the company of my grandkids, I can fully appreciate the beauty of nature, and even work isn’t quite as big a disaster as I thought.

It’s all good—the panic and the rapidly shifting moods are gone, and I’m still on the full dose of Zyprexa along with my other meds. (Dr. A never did call back to tell me to taper my dosage, so I think I’m safe in assuming I’m not supposed to.) Another lesson learned: never try to push through a serious mood episode without help, even if I do think it’s “situational”.

And that’s our post-game wrap-up, sports fans……thanks for listening.

Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

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