My life is literally flashing before my eyes and I find myself at a crossroads. Its alarming to admit but I keep having these thoughts about the desert and taking my place there to die. I've figured out the greatest mystery of all my life-myself. I feel as if I'm sloughing off old, tired skin, raising from the ashes of a house burnt down around a snake terrarium. The house is embers, but will I escape my glass cage?
My thoughts are constantly being rearranged by headaches that blot out reasonign. My observing self-my wise mind-struggles to maintain the balance between reason and emotion as the pressure tightens on my cerebellum. When my mind climaxes, it is more due to what I feel, but I feel because my reasoning mind has applied logic to the things I've perceived. But, wait, I can feel things simply by staring into a stroboscopic light-laughter, elation. How is it my mind perceives the light so that it seems funny?
I can't drive without feeling bizarre. The CBT and DBT skills I've learned for the treatment of my then supposed bipolar disorder have applied themselves well when I deal with these things they call 'auras'. "I'll be ok when I park the car", seems to be my mantra, but a big part of me thinks it depressing that I have to constantly remind myself I'm having auras and seizures-those little pops in my head or moments I'm not exactly there. Oh, and then I have to CBT away the depression. I work elaborately hard every day to keep my mind from getting tangled up in the headaches.
It used to not be so bad...Or maybe I just wasn't as aware of it before I learned 'all there is to know about headaches'. I remember the headaches and the motion sickness as a child and sensations I feel now I recognize from the past have a new face. That seemed like an awkward sentence. Even more awkward is how my new awareness came about. Because I was deemed bipolar and perceived to have all the emotional lability of the disorder, I was prescribed by a psychiatrist a medication called Lamotrogine. I felt really good on the Lamotrogine for a while. Then I started getting really depressed and thought things were wrong with my body. I was also on Lithium...Had it pooped out on me? I kept going to the emergency room to alleviate my anxieties about dying from acute pancreatitis or Steven Johnson Syndrome.
Yeah, just a little bit paranoid or hypochondriac. Not the usual mental malady I suffer. They weened me off of the Lamictal and I checked into West Pines because I caught myself concocting a milk shake from all the more dangerous seeming drugs in my medicine cupboard. I was becoming suicidal from all the panic attacks brought on by nightmarish thoughts. I hated waiting at the ER, but I knew I would be rewarded with all the little Cheerios bowls and pint cartons of milk my heart desired.
In the hospital, off the Lamotrogine-I stopped at 100 mg down from 300 mg-my brain pulsed. When I laid down to get rid of the headaches I would find myself fascinated by them-if I concentrated on the pressure in my head it would get overwhelming and intense and strange thoughts would manifest in my mind. Have you seen Pablo Picasso's "Guernica"? Yeah, my thoughts were like that but moving in three dimensions. After these thoughts passed I'd get all depressed and hungry.
I can't believe how horny I was during my stay there. Whatever mood, whatever situation, I was always aroused. A young woman checked in because of a suicide attempt and I befriended her. She had obvious attention problems and a substance abuse problem-she kept begging me to slip her the Klonopin I'd been prescribed PRN. I so badly wanted to use my little pills as leverage in seeking sexual favor from her. I don't know why I'm writing this...Oh, my point is this: I don't like Klonopin, it makes me agitated and depressed.
I digress...The psychiatrist I worked with there offered Geodon, which I declined, had a nurse take my blood and ruled me Vitamin D deficient and I was prescribed supplements. I learned all there was to know about the panic attacks. I got so good at controlling the panic, I could sit through the strange headaches, which were obviously a sign of damage done by the Lamictal...Duh! I could sit through the headaches and the constant muscle spasms and the nausea and the weird pains in my body and the TV sending me signs from God. I know now these were delusions of reference but I still find it funny I found God at West Pines and I still see signs-wait, I've seen signs all my life.
Getting the panic attacks under control was key In my recovery-I figured if I could learn to deal with panic I could learn all about my other symptoms. My curious mind went seeking answers for the questions my pulsing head was posing. What are these sensations? The internet became my refuge. I poured over the psychiatic disorders and became sure I was schizoaffective with a comorbid OCD and ADHD with depression. Then I was sure I was bipolar and then I became absolutely sure I had a personality disorder. Then I learned about epilepsy and cephalic auras.
Dr. Khoi Du Pham is a calm, older, vietnamese gentleman who's demeanor is very reassuring. When I visited him and described my headache he ordered an MRI and EEG. The day of my MRI, I found myself weeping in my vehicle just before the test. I remember asking God to give me a sign-please let them find huge lesions in my brain to help explain my inexplicable mind.
During the MRI, the noise generated by the magnets and the sensation in the tube overwhelmed me-the head pressure brought on by the incessant caucophany of the magnets. My body tightened and I left it, hovered beyond it and looked at it as it flew through time and space. I was not frightened. I did not panic. I was sort of fascinated. I could not talk after the MRI finished its work. It took a few minutes for me to get off the table and when I went back into the main hospital nurses pulled me aside and a doctor was called. I did not respond to questions, I could not answer questions correctly. I was absent. I was admitted to the ER with a seizure.
I declined treatment, but I really should have taken the Ativan they offered. Within an hour I felt cohesive again and left the ER on foot. The MRI test had been administered 5 miles away and I had been tranported via ambulance to the ER. No matter, I felt incredible. I walked to an IHOP just down the street from the ER and ate pancake after pancake. It didn't matter that I was diabetic. I was powerful, so connected with everything. Walking to my car, I became certain of the idea I was an angelic being given this body to control. The thought became a little disturbing as I recognized it to be somewhat schizophrenic in nature. Crap, I was going to really lose it, wasn't I?
I did not lose 'it'. 'It' was already lost. The next day I remember going to see my psychiatrist, completely out of sorts, feeling bizarre. I was turned away for lack of copay despite my suicidiality and recent seizure-don't worry, I have filed a complaint with the Department of Regulatory Agencies. I drove home desperate and sat in front of the computer-I wanted to check my email and find the phone number of someone I could complain to. Unfortunately, this really creepy sensation went across my arms. I called 911 and laid down on the ground, then I tried to get up and answer the door but I couldn't move very well. The paramedics got in through the window.
Again, I declined treatment in the ER, because I was still having peoblems with paranoia and not liking needles and sick of IVs. I don't think they wrote me up for seizure that time-just anxiety. I left the ER and waited in the lobby for my baby's momma to pick me up. Oh, my dear lord, my head was pulsating madly, I could barely think and there were Carolers in the lobby singing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" which I managed to sing along with despite my agony.
I forget what happened next...Oh, yeah, the EEG the next day! I laughed for no reason while that light pulsated into my eyes. I felt euphoric and begged the EEG tech to keep the light flashing after she stopped the test. After the bizarre breathing thing, I was helped up and had to sit for a while before I got up. I remember her wondering out loud if she should call the ER. I told her I was fine, left and went downstairs only to find myself completely lost and confused. A cafeteria lady helped me to the ER. I took the Ativan that time and it kind of helped.
I made it to my vehicle and drove home. I kept blanking out, but the thought of crashing did not bother me. I don't remember much of the next day. At the end of it, I went for a drive because my head was pounding so bad. A this point you'd think I'd figure out driving was not a good idea, but I think a small part of me was seeking destruction. I visited a friend for a short while and then left, tired, wanting sleep. My thoughts started peeling apart as I drove. A cloud settled over me and I was losing continuity. I drove myself to Porter Hospital's ER and spent the night on a Dilaudid and Ativan drip. I slept, but kept awaking to yell incoherently that I was agitated and incoherent. At one point I vomited and at another point I spoke in tongues to the ER nurse before managing one, weak, coherent sentence, "I'm so confused...". I don't remember how long I was there, but the dilaudid and ativan worked miracles. The ER doc wanted to give me a spinal tap and even offered haldol. When they discharged me I was OK. The next day I was not.
To rule out migraines, Dr. Pham prescribed Verapamil and Max-Alt. Verapamil did nothing and Max-Alt gave me akathisia-yeah I Googled that shit. I got paranoid again and avoided Dr. Pham, did some research and learned all about depression in epileptics and the propensity toward psychosis. A paper by a Doctor in Canada became my bible. Psychotic depression was obvious in my case, but the author of the paper urged that the epilepsy be treated first. On the new year, I checked into Highlands Behavioral Center, claiming to be suicidal. While there I coordinated my care with the doctor and psychiatrist on staff. We chose a more psychotropic AED to control the epilepsy, namely Gabapentin, titrated me off the Lithium and added FLuvoxomine for the depression (which was indicated in the paper I read for Epilepsy and also has affinity for neurosteroid sigma receptor subtype 1 which is strongly implicated in psychotic major depression-yeah, baby!).
Within two weeks, I could think better, felt better and was generally better. I was not back to normal, though, and that's where I find myself. Too bad I got a rash and had to stop both medicines. I feel like something got reset in my brain, though. Lithium has left my body and I seem sharper, easier able to recall. I have a ways to go, but I can live with these cephalic auras in the meantime. I find myself incredibly labile, flirting with psychosis and unable to watch TV without feeling like I'm going insaner. When I don't have the seizures I'm depressed and paranoid. I divulge these headaches exert a certain antidepressant quality and I find myself wondering if without the seizures am I completely depressed? These seizures make my thinking special-I want to invent a term for the moment my thoughts tangle up in a knot. Lets call them theizures!
I can't stop writing, Ativan is my friend and I've got to find a pair of blue sunglasses to filter the lights before they scramble my brains.
My thoughts are constantly being rearranged by headaches that blot out reasonign. My observing self-my wise mind-struggles to maintain the balance between reason and emotion as the pressure tightens on my cerebellum. When my mind climaxes, it is more due to what I feel, but I feel because my reasoning mind has applied logic to the things I've perceived. But, wait, I can feel things simply by staring into a stroboscopic light-laughter, elation. How is it my mind perceives the light so that it seems funny?
I can't drive without feeling bizarre. The CBT and DBT skills I've learned for the treatment of my then supposed bipolar disorder have applied themselves well when I deal with these things they call 'auras'. "I'll be ok when I park the car", seems to be my mantra, but a big part of me thinks it depressing that I have to constantly remind myself I'm having auras and seizures-those little pops in my head or moments I'm not exactly there. Oh, and then I have to CBT away the depression. I work elaborately hard every day to keep my mind from getting tangled up in the headaches.
It used to not be so bad...Or maybe I just wasn't as aware of it before I learned 'all there is to know about headaches'. I remember the headaches and the motion sickness as a child and sensations I feel now I recognize from the past have a new face. That seemed like an awkward sentence. Even more awkward is how my new awareness came about. Because I was deemed bipolar and perceived to have all the emotional lability of the disorder, I was prescribed by a psychiatrist a medication called Lamotrogine. I felt really good on the Lamotrogine for a while. Then I started getting really depressed and thought things were wrong with my body. I was also on Lithium...Had it pooped out on me? I kept going to the emergency room to alleviate my anxieties about dying from acute pancreatitis or Steven Johnson Syndrome.
Yeah, just a little bit paranoid or hypochondriac. Not the usual mental malady I suffer. They weened me off of the Lamictal and I checked into West Pines because I caught myself concocting a milk shake from all the more dangerous seeming drugs in my medicine cupboard. I was becoming suicidal from all the panic attacks brought on by nightmarish thoughts. I hated waiting at the ER, but I knew I would be rewarded with all the little Cheerios bowls and pint cartons of milk my heart desired.
In the hospital, off the Lamotrogine-I stopped at 100 mg down from 300 mg-my brain pulsed. When I laid down to get rid of the headaches I would find myself fascinated by them-if I concentrated on the pressure in my head it would get overwhelming and intense and strange thoughts would manifest in my mind. Have you seen Pablo Picasso's "Guernica"? Yeah, my thoughts were like that but moving in three dimensions. After these thoughts passed I'd get all depressed and hungry.
I can't believe how horny I was during my stay there. Whatever mood, whatever situation, I was always aroused. A young woman checked in because of a suicide attempt and I befriended her. She had obvious attention problems and a substance abuse problem-she kept begging me to slip her the Klonopin I'd been prescribed PRN. I so badly wanted to use my little pills as leverage in seeking sexual favor from her. I don't know why I'm writing this...Oh, my point is this: I don't like Klonopin, it makes me agitated and depressed.
I digress...The psychiatrist I worked with there offered Geodon, which I declined, had a nurse take my blood and ruled me Vitamin D deficient and I was prescribed supplements. I learned all there was to know about the panic attacks. I got so good at controlling the panic, I could sit through the strange headaches, which were obviously a sign of damage done by the Lamictal...Duh! I could sit through the headaches and the constant muscle spasms and the nausea and the weird pains in my body and the TV sending me signs from God. I know now these were delusions of reference but I still find it funny I found God at West Pines and I still see signs-wait, I've seen signs all my life.
Getting the panic attacks under control was key In my recovery-I figured if I could learn to deal with panic I could learn all about my other symptoms. My curious mind went seeking answers for the questions my pulsing head was posing. What are these sensations? The internet became my refuge. I poured over the psychiatic disorders and became sure I was schizoaffective with a comorbid OCD and ADHD with depression. Then I was sure I was bipolar and then I became absolutely sure I had a personality disorder. Then I learned about epilepsy and cephalic auras.
Dr. Khoi Du Pham is a calm, older, vietnamese gentleman who's demeanor is very reassuring. When I visited him and described my headache he ordered an MRI and EEG. The day of my MRI, I found myself weeping in my vehicle just before the test. I remember asking God to give me a sign-please let them find huge lesions in my brain to help explain my inexplicable mind.
During the MRI, the noise generated by the magnets and the sensation in the tube overwhelmed me-the head pressure brought on by the incessant caucophany of the magnets. My body tightened and I left it, hovered beyond it and looked at it as it flew through time and space. I was not frightened. I did not panic. I was sort of fascinated. I could not talk after the MRI finished its work. It took a few minutes for me to get off the table and when I went back into the main hospital nurses pulled me aside and a doctor was called. I did not respond to questions, I could not answer questions correctly. I was absent. I was admitted to the ER with a seizure.
I declined treatment, but I really should have taken the Ativan they offered. Within an hour I felt cohesive again and left the ER on foot. The MRI test had been administered 5 miles away and I had been tranported via ambulance to the ER. No matter, I felt incredible. I walked to an IHOP just down the street from the ER and ate pancake after pancake. It didn't matter that I was diabetic. I was powerful, so connected with everything. Walking to my car, I became certain of the idea I was an angelic being given this body to control. The thought became a little disturbing as I recognized it to be somewhat schizophrenic in nature. Crap, I was going to really lose it, wasn't I?
I did not lose 'it'. 'It' was already lost. The next day I remember going to see my psychiatrist, completely out of sorts, feeling bizarre. I was turned away for lack of copay despite my suicidiality and recent seizure-don't worry, I have filed a complaint with the Department of Regulatory Agencies. I drove home desperate and sat in front of the computer-I wanted to check my email and find the phone number of someone I could complain to. Unfortunately, this really creepy sensation went across my arms. I called 911 and laid down on the ground, then I tried to get up and answer the door but I couldn't move very well. The paramedics got in through the window.
Again, I declined treatment in the ER, because I was still having peoblems with paranoia and not liking needles and sick of IVs. I don't think they wrote me up for seizure that time-just anxiety. I left the ER and waited in the lobby for my baby's momma to pick me up. Oh, my dear lord, my head was pulsating madly, I could barely think and there were Carolers in the lobby singing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" which I managed to sing along with despite my agony.
I forget what happened next...Oh, yeah, the EEG the next day! I laughed for no reason while that light pulsated into my eyes. I felt euphoric and begged the EEG tech to keep the light flashing after she stopped the test. After the bizarre breathing thing, I was helped up and had to sit for a while before I got up. I remember her wondering out loud if she should call the ER. I told her I was fine, left and went downstairs only to find myself completely lost and confused. A cafeteria lady helped me to the ER. I took the Ativan that time and it kind of helped.
I made it to my vehicle and drove home. I kept blanking out, but the thought of crashing did not bother me. I don't remember much of the next day. At the end of it, I went for a drive because my head was pounding so bad. A this point you'd think I'd figure out driving was not a good idea, but I think a small part of me was seeking destruction. I visited a friend for a short while and then left, tired, wanting sleep. My thoughts started peeling apart as I drove. A cloud settled over me and I was losing continuity. I drove myself to Porter Hospital's ER and spent the night on a Dilaudid and Ativan drip. I slept, but kept awaking to yell incoherently that I was agitated and incoherent. At one point I vomited and at another point I spoke in tongues to the ER nurse before managing one, weak, coherent sentence, "I'm so confused...". I don't remember how long I was there, but the dilaudid and ativan worked miracles. The ER doc wanted to give me a spinal tap and even offered haldol. When they discharged me I was OK. The next day I was not.
To rule out migraines, Dr. Pham prescribed Verapamil and Max-Alt. Verapamil did nothing and Max-Alt gave me akathisia-yeah I Googled that shit. I got paranoid again and avoided Dr. Pham, did some research and learned all about depression in epileptics and the propensity toward psychosis. A paper by a Doctor in Canada became my bible. Psychotic depression was obvious in my case, but the author of the paper urged that the epilepsy be treated first. On the new year, I checked into Highlands Behavioral Center, claiming to be suicidal. While there I coordinated my care with the doctor and psychiatrist on staff. We chose a more psychotropic AED to control the epilepsy, namely Gabapentin, titrated me off the Lithium and added FLuvoxomine for the depression (which was indicated in the paper I read for Epilepsy and also has affinity for neurosteroid sigma receptor subtype 1 which is strongly implicated in psychotic major depression-yeah, baby!).
Within two weeks, I could think better, felt better and was generally better. I was not back to normal, though, and that's where I find myself. Too bad I got a rash and had to stop both medicines. I feel like something got reset in my brain, though. Lithium has left my body and I seem sharper, easier able to recall. I have a ways to go, but I can live with these cephalic auras in the meantime. I find myself incredibly labile, flirting with psychosis and unable to watch TV without feeling like I'm going insaner. When I don't have the seizures I'm depressed and paranoid. I divulge these headaches exert a certain antidepressant quality and I find myself wondering if without the seizures am I completely depressed? These seizures make my thinking special-I want to invent a term for the moment my thoughts tangle up in a knot. Lets call them theizures!
I can't stop writing, Ativan is my friend and I've got to find a pair of blue sunglasses to filter the lights before they scramble my brains.
Although I did find Oxygen to be helpful.
