Shrink Wrapped, Redux

I have a sneaking suspicious that Dr. Awesomesauce reads this blog once in a while.

I mean, I didn’t even get the chance to bring up cutting back on the Zyprexa at our session this morning. When the topic turned to meds, he shook his finger sternly at me and said “Stay on your meds as they are—no messing with them.” Naturally I did my best to look innocent, even as I confessed to being tempted sometimes because I’m jonesing for some hypomania. He shook his finger again and said “I know, and NO!”

Damn. I’d gotten kind of attached to the notion of backing off on the Zyprexa and was actually looking forward to giving it a shot. So much for that idea.

Granted, there are a lot of advantages to staying on my medication cocktail as is, maintaining my current level of sanity being first and foremost. I also won’t have to cut pills into teeny-tiny pieces or try to remember to titrate down on a given date, IF I’m having no ill effects from the change to begin with. And Dr. A and I both know that my relative serenity in the face of all the current adversity is not a natural thing for me—nope, it’s been made possible through the magic of chemistry, and it would be silly to try to fix what ain’t broke.

Still I was surprised that last month’s discussion of maybe reducing the Zyprexa someday was nowhere in today’s. He was a little worried when he saw that I’d changed my hair (my son-in-law straightened and colored it for me last week) and asked if it was my new version of the yellow toucan shirt, but I think I was able to reassure him that it most certainly wasn’t. After all, I haven’t been manic all summer, and thanks to my faithful medications it doesn’t look like the usual early-autumn festivities will occur this year either.

It’s amazing how my mood charts have flattened out over the past year, and especially since I went on the Z full-time. I’m half-afraid I may be stuck with it for good, unless I can get through this life crisis with all my marbles intact AND maintain some semblance of a normal existence for a while after it’s over. And it’s the latter which challenges me. A lot. In fact, I’m not sure I even know what that is. But I have the feeling that if I stick with this chemical soup, I just might find out.

At any rate, med changes are not on the table right now and I’d best forget about it. As tempted as I may be to fool around with my psych meds sometimes, it’s the one thing I won’t do; I have a lot of respect for what they can do—especially if misused—and I have even more respect for the doctor who prescribes them. Whatever his flaws (and I’m sure he has some), he knows his stuff, and he knows ME. And just in case he is reading this blog, I’d like him to know that I really do appreciate that…..even if he never lets me live down that ridiculous yellow shirt. 🙂



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.

5 thoughts on “Shrink Wrapped, Redux

    1. I know, I was thinking about that later. The man notices EVERYTHING and usually compliments me on what he likes, but the hair really is a radical change and I think it made him wary. I went from curly/frizzy to stick straight. My son-in-law did it for me and I love it. 🙂


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