Death by Meds???

Anxiety free! That's what I was! And I stayed that way for many, many months. Then suddenly, without warning, I had a panic attack. Followed by another panic attack. And so on and so forth. I was back to square one. But this time, I had the magic word in my head: MEDS. I tried to find the doctor who had given me the prescription for Imipramine, but he was no longer practicing, so I desperately sought out someone else to save me. I accepted the quickest appointment the new doctor had, and waited...experiencing each moment as if it were an eternity. And finally, appointment day arrived.

I completed the usual barrage of insurance forms, releases, etc. and sat back down in my chair awaiting my hero -- the wonderful guy with the prescription pad! He'd take care of me. I knew he would. When he called my name, I followed him to his office like a puppy whose master had just come home. We got the usual formalities out of the way, and I relayed my story about the Xanax nightmare and the doctor with the Imipramine. His mouth fell open and I will never forget the words that came out: "He took you off of six Xanax a day cold turkey? You could have had a seizure and died. You're very lucky." Now, right about that time, I didn't feel very lucky. I was pissed. How could someone do that to me who was a medical expert? Didn't he know? Did he care? What's happening to people these days? There's a such thing as a medical oath, you know. To this day, the only answer I can come up with is that Dr. Imipramine really believed in the power of the mind to control the body and thought that as long as I believed I would be okay (and didn't know he was risking my freaking life), I'd be just fine.

Still reeling from the uppercut my new hero had given me, I gathered my faculties and asked a simple question. "Can you help me?" Yes, he definitely could. Turns out there was a new wonder drug called Prozac, and he even had samples for me. I happily took my prescription, and left his office with my next appointment date and a new found hope. I had my cure. I just had to get to my next hero -- the pharmacist.

It didn't take long for me to notice the effect of the new "super drug" Prozac. Sitting at my desk in my office, I realized that my tongue felt funny. Really funny. Then my face began to swell. OK, so I'm not a medical expert or anything, but I knew something was badly wrong. I called my hero, uh, doctor's office and was told that I was having an allergic reaction to the medication and to discontinue it immediately. Now this is when I realized that it's possible to have more than one thought at the exact same time: "What do you mean stop taking the WONDER DRUG???" and "Duh, did you think I was going to actually put another one of those death pills in my mouth?" And thus began the search for a new medication. Actually, make that medications. You see, not only was I being treated for anxiety and panic attacks, I was now also being treated for depression. Why? Ask anybody who's ever had a panic attack, and they can tell you all about it. Depression and anxiety go hand in hand like yen and yang, surf & turf, or peanut butter and jelly. You see, when your life is turned completely upside down, and even the most normal, basic things become difficult to do, you're going to be depressed. The question is, do you wallow in it, or count your blessings and try to bring yourself out of it? I did the first for a very long time, and if there's anybody out there who is reading this, please let me say to you: You are NOT alone. You are NOT crazy. You are NOT going to die from anxiety/panic attacks. You CAN overcome this disorder. But it is going to take effort, patience, resiliency, resolution, and every bit of fight that you have within yourself. The bad news is that it's hard. But the good news, the great news, is that it can be done and you don't have to go through it alone. You just have to love yourself enough to do it. That begins with trying to understanding why you are having panic attacks in the first place. What are your unresolved emotional issues and past traumas? Who hurt you when they should have protected and nurtured you? I suggest you think seriously about this for a while, and then write letters detailing everything you can remember and feel to the people who played a role in your pain process. You don't have to mail the letters, or you can mail them if you want to. The point is to get in touch with your pain and fear. Feel it and go through it, so you can get rid of it. Because that's what anxiety is all about -- unresolved, traumatic emotions.