About two months ago I took a large step, which I never thought that I would. I finally went to my doctor’s office and asked to be prescribed medication for depression. Depression is something that I have dealt with for a long time but I have also been very against taking medication to try and help with it. Partly because being on a medication for it would make it more real and not as easy to ignore and partly because I work in a pharmacy and I see the side effects that people have to deal with and how long and how many trial and errors can happen before they find the right medication. For the past couple years, I have gone back and forth trying to decide if I should go on medication or not. When I would have good days, or even weeks I would think no way I need medication I’m fine but then the bad days and weeks would hit and I would be stuck in bed wishing that I had something to help me because I no longer can do it on my own. Finally, after discussing it with my therapist and my pharmacist I decided to take the leap and get prescribed medication. So far it has been helpful and I notice that I do not feel so down all of the time which is nice. It is not a huge change, and I’m not fully convinced that my feeling better is not just a placebo effect but I am glad that I was able to finally take this chance and really start working towards bettering myself and not just suffering through to the next day.
Posts Tagged ‘medicine’
When I was growing up, my relationship to my asthma entirely shaped my relationship to my body. My body was something that had to be constantly monitored for any sign of symptoms. It had to be regulated and controlled. My body wasn’t a part of me, it was a setting–it was a dangerous situation that I had been placed in for unknown reasons; a house in the path of a hurricane. (more…)
I silently sign my name on the sheet telling the front desk staff sitting at the computer that I am here, and sit down in a generic, but expensive-looking chair.
Women are glued to their copies of Parenting or Marie Clare. A couple sitting cattycorner to each other look up at me, and then glance back at each other talking. An instrumental version of Memories from the musical Cats plays softly in the background. I don’t have a magazine, so I take up Candy Crush. After 10 minutes the woman at the front desk calls my name.
“Hi, Amelia! We just need to get a urine sample from you, so if you could just go down the hallway and to the second door on the left and leave that for us in the metal cabinet, then go to room number two, that’d be excellent!”