I was just browsing diaries this morning and ran across a link to the story on lolcats. Followed that and found:
Now, I can't stop crying. I cry a lot lately, despite my joy at the election results. But, that happens when you're a manic depressive and your meds are goofed up.
I did my best to work for President-elect Obama before the election. It took a toll on my health. "Normal" people don't always understand that for us manic depressives, there is a down after every up. For every spurt of work, there is a price to pay. I felt guilty that I dropped some local Democratic work before the election, but I was doing all I thought I could do.
I've been feeling a bit of let down since the election. Now what after all the work for the election? I have been thinking, very self-righteously, that we have to lay off our new president and not press for our special agendas. He has so much to do to clean up the mess left by the last 8 years. It is unfair to push for personal goals, such as health care. But, now I'm wondering. How many of us are holding that knife, that gun, that handful of pills for the last time now? Can we wait for the health care system to be fixed?
I'm lucky. Usually my medications work. Usually I'm fine. I have a good job and I have good health care. I'm sure lucky that I do. I spend about $3,000 a year in co-pays on my psychiatrist and my medications - and I have low co-pays. I pay no more than about $30 for a month's worth of each medication, some of which would cost over $300 without the insurance. I currently take 8 medications a day. So, figure without insurance my medications would be $30,000 or more a year. That's more than half my income. I can't afford that. What would I give up?
Blood pressure and cholesterol medicines are an easy first choice, but those are the cheap ones. Then, the thyroid medication has to go. Without that, I'm so tired I can hardly get out of bed and I tend to get depressed, but it is more "optional" than the others. Then, it gets to the tough choices, the expensive choices - my medications for manic depression. I can't just cut down - I'm running at the lowest therapeutic level now. I can't take them then not take them - you have to gradually taper off and build up or risk seizures. So, what would I do?
I'm afraid that I'd join so many of my brothers and sisters without medication. Some of them are the ones you may see on the street talking to themselves. The ones we all turn away from at times. One of my cousins is out there living on the streets. Or, at least he was the last time any of us heard anything about him. He may not be alive now, but we don't know. Oh, not all manic depressives are like that without medication. Many of us just quietly kill ourselves so we don't come to the attention of the broader public by cluttering up the streets. That's probably what would happen to me. I tried it often enough before medication. Like that cat, I've probably used up at least 6 of my 9 lives.
Last night at a support group, I learned that a woman I've known for the past year took what was almost the last handful of pills last week. She'd been doing so well. But, the walls started closing in. So, when a neighbor thoughtlessly offered her some Valium to help her since she looked upset, she downed them all. Luckily, when she went into convulsions she was with another member of the group who is a nurse - and the nurse rushed her to the emergency room. My friend survived, but the doctor told her she should have died. Another one of those 9 lives down.
I am so aware today that I live on the edge of that fall into death - as do my friends who are manic depressive. All it takes is the loss of a job to end the insurance, a disruption in the medications or the routines. When my husband and I moved to Texas in 2002, I was lucky enough to find a job before my COBRA ran out, but I had to find a new doctor. My new insurance company told me that there was at least a 6-month wait to see a psychiatrist. My general practitioner told me that he wouldn't continue prescribing my bi-polar medications because he was not familiar enough with them. I was in training for my job at the time, working in an open area with other trainees. I had to try to sort it out on a cell phone during work hours because the insurance company was only open during my work hours. I remember trying to hide in a quiet corner to plead with them to find me a psychiatrist. I remember crying and screaming at them one day, telling them that they had to find me a psychiatrist because this was a matter of life or death for me. Another new worker complained to our boss that I was being disruptive in the workplace. I was lucky that the particular co-worker who complained was, ironically, considered a nut case and my boss dismissed her complaint. If I'd lost that job, that insurance . . .
I know that President Obama will have to get started on the economy. That affects all of us. And for most people, losing a job means losing insurance, so it is part of the health care problem. But there is so much more to the health care problem than increasing employment. There are the companies that don't provide insurance. There are the self-employed and retired who don't have insurance or can't afford it. There are the poor insurance plans that refuse to pay for treatments, that don't cover medication adequately, or don't cover mental health on the same basis as "physical" health issues. We have to change the health care system. It is an issue that can't wait. Every day it means more people lost. More productive citizens dying, or losing their way in the maze of their own minds.
So, as soon as I get the medications adjusted, I'll start seeing what I can do to lobby for health care reform, particularly to be sure that those of us who suffer from the "mental" problems are covered. (Always seems like an oxymoron to me. Does my mental state exist outside my body? Does something that can be managed through adjusting chemicals in my body somehow become not a "physical" issue because you can see how the pills work or attach me to a gauge to see my disorder?)
In the meantime, I really am just fine. Really. If I could just stop crying and stop wanting to stay in bed 24 hours a day and stop feeling that I'm worthless. Really, I'm fine - for me. I'm not suicidal this time. At least, I don't think I am. But, that damn cat . . .