Musical Meds

Over the years, as my anxiety disorder stabilized and destablized, and the panic attacks came and went, my physicians prescribed several medications for me. Some of them worked for a while, and some of them didn't work at all. There were anti-anxiety meds, antidepressants, antipsychotics, and who knows what else. There were combinations, additions, subtractions, dosage increases, dosage decreases, and cocktails -- you name it, I've probably had it. I never thought I'd ever have taken so much medication by the time I reached 44, but here's the list of meds that I was on over the years:

Xanax, Imipramine, Valium, Wellbutrin, BuSpar, Neuronton, Ativan, Klonopin, Restoril, GABA, Remeron, Trazadone, Vistaril, Paxil, Serax, Ambien, Lexapro, Zoloft, Effexor, Prozac, Elavil, Serzone, Desyrel, Risperdal, Seroquel, Mellaril, and even Lithium.

As anxiety goes, I found that Klonopin worked best for me. As an antidepressant, Remeron works best for me. Sometimes to get to sleep, Trazadone was the key. And for times when I had rages (after traumatic events that occurred in my adult life), there was Lithium. Ashamed to admit it, but yes, I took it. Not for long, but I did. And I'm glad I did. Because it worked and it helped to keep the anger that was consuming me under control.

The funny thing about taking all of these medications is that while they might work (for me, you, or whomever), there are side effects. First of all, don't even try to get pregnant taking them. Secondly, your body begins to adapt to them and you need more and more to keep the panic attacks under control. More meds, higher dosages. And finally, you have a serious tolerance to most meds, including those that are used to "put you under" for simple medical procedures like colonoscopies and things of that nature. When you get to that point, it's pretty bad. Let me tell you just how bad it is.

After being on medications for years and developing an incredibly high tolerance for them (I can take Flexeril on top of anxiety meds and go right to work unphased). Meds that have warnings about making you drowsy don't even phase me. I wish it weren't the case, but it is.

I have a history of cancer in my family, particularly colon cancer, so I have to have regular endoscopies. I also have a hiatal hernia, and sometimes, my general practitioner lets me know it's time to have an Esophagogastroduodenoscopy (EGD) and colonoscopy to check on the two conditions. These are both minimally invasive outpatient procedures where you go to the hospital and they put an IV in your arm, then put Versed or something of the sort into the IV and out you go while they put a tube down your throat or insert one into your rectum to examine your colon. No problem because you're asleep and you don't feel a thing. You go to the recovery room where the doctor gives you the results of your test (which you won't remember because you're so zonked out, so they also tell the person who drove you to the hospital to make sure that someody knows what the results actually were). Hospital staff puts you in a wheelchair, takes you out to your car and helps you to get in, and then your designated driver takes over. Home you go, to sleep for a large portion of the rest of the day. And this is the way it went the first couple of times I had these procedures done.

Unfortunately, over the years, because I had developed a higher tolerance for medication until it got to the point where they could no longer "put me under." So the very last time I had the procedure, the doctor ordered the nurse to put about 3 different medications into my IV, but I never went under; there was just no response. The doctor was looking at me and I was looking right back at him as if to say, "So what do we do now, doc?" Well, he had other patients to take care of, so I'll tell you what he did. He had two really huge nurses (one male and one female) to strap me in, and freaking hold me down and performed those procedures while I was WIDE AWAKE. Yes, that's what I said. A tube went down into my throat and into my esophagus, and another one went into my rectum and through the colon. This was over the course of minutes, not seconds, mind you. I tried to ask them to stop, but they did not. When they finally wheeled me out to my husband and child, my face was red and swollen from the tears I'd cried because I was in so much pain. If I had had good sense (or a good lawyer and the money with which to pay him or her), I'd have sued the hell out of that doctor. But he did tell me one thing. The next time I come in for a procedure (which I'll definitely be getting from a different physician), I'll have to have general anesthesia administered by an actual anesthesiologist. And that's all thanks to the anxiety meds that I take to make my life bearable, to function, to feel normal. But if that's the case, why do I feel so abnormal? I don't abuse my meds, I only take them as directed. And that's why I implore anyone who has an anxiety disorder to try to take minimal meds, or even try herbal remedies (Hops, Valerian, Chamomile) as directed by a physician. Because there comes a point when you wonder whether the meds are your friend or your foe. That's a question that I'm still trying to answer.