Doctors, SSRIs and depression
18.08.06, 8:02 pm

I wrote the beginning of this yesterday afternoon, so apologies if the timings get confusing.

I am so angry right now; I haven�t been this angry in a long, long time. It has died down a little since a few hours ago, when I was striding through town ranting on my mobile to Becky so loudly that passers-by were giving me funny looks, but it�s still pretty bad. It�s Dr Blood Test and Lisa, and you�re getting the two stories with both barrels. I guess it makes a change from the whining at least.

The appointment with Dr Blood Test was horrendous, to put it bluntly. He made me wait 20 minutes despite me being the first person he had to see after his lunch break, and looked like shit when I finally sat down. The man could not giving a flying shit what it is I have and seemed surprised that I�d come seen him in the first place. I eventually managed to persuade him to at least think about some form of medication.

Dr Blood Test: The one thing we can try is something we use quite regularly, which is a drug called Fluoxetine.
Me: Prozac.
Dr Blood Test: That�s one of its names, yes, the others being [blah].
Me: I�m not depressed.
Dr Blood Test: No one�s saying you are.

No that�s right, because instead you think that it�s all still in my head. He did a whole spiel about ME not being a definite diagnosis, and that my referral said that my symptoms were leading towards the thought of ME, and I mean I know that there is no definitive test for ME. He then tried to make out that maybe me taking Propranolol every now and then might be the problem Halfway through I suddenly had the horrible realisation that if I wasn�t careful I might actually burst into tears, so instead forced myself to ask him where the hell I went from there then. And he said that he could look into referring me to maybe a rheumatologist, a post-viral infection specialist, or maybe a �psychiatrist if the symptoms appear to be more psychological�.

Oh thanks. You stupid little fuck, at least try and sound like you�re even slightly bothered with what�s wrong with me. He made me feel like I was being demanding coming back to see him, like he was confused as to what I wanted out of him. Also, Dr Blood Test, stop being so fucking condescending when you talk to me. I�ve done a Neuroscience degree, for God�s sake, I know what frigging SSRIs are and what the acronym stands for and how they work. I know you�ve looked at my medical record and decided that I�ve just got one big anxiety problem, and that this whole thing is psychosomatic. I know that you hate the fact that I have enough scientific knowledge to not just sit back and let you fob me off with your shitty medical jargon. I know that you don�t like me. I don�t like you either.

And so I�m sat in the waiting room waiting for my name to flash up and I get a text from Lisa about how I�d left two windows open by mistake, and so I apologised, and then got a �You�ve really upset me, I�m starting to feel like you have no consideration for me at all�. Obviously this big overreaction also pissed me off, but once I got home we eventually sorted everything out so I don�t really need to write about it all.

Anyway, I wrote all of that yesterday, and then today I braved the rain to go see another doctor, namely Dr Melvyn Osbourne. Melvyn is a living legend� he�s the guy who saw me when I had my fun cystitis. Melvyn has a cool name. Melvyn has a sense of humour, and therefore likes me. Melvyn doesn�t patronise me, and we had a discussion about a recent journal published in Nature about St. John�s Wort. Obviously I had no idea what the hell the journal actually banged on about so had to bluff my way through, but still. Despite him giving me the same kind of story as Dr Blood Test I didn�t get angry like last time, because he wasn�t rude and dismissive and a total fuckwit.

This is the situation. SSRIs, which are a type of antidepressant, have been shown to sometimes help with ME. I have a prescription for Fluoxetine but I�m going to try St. John�s Wort instead, as it�s a natural alternative and I won�t have to worry about dependency. I take it for a while and see if it helps with the fatigue and stuff, and if it doesn�t then I go back and we try another type of antidepressant. If nothing works then I�ll get referred to the ME Unit at the hospital. In other words, there�s not a lot they can do to help me; it�s going to be a long time before I get a concrete diagnosis and I�m in for a lot of frustration.

My symptoms seem to suggest that I either have some kind of ME or some kind of atypical depression. I�m so very sure that I�m not depressed, but suddenly everyone�s jumping on the depression train and talking about it like it�s a real possibility. I had to endure my gran on the phone last night saying, �I think with your mum and then Bernie� this stuff just builds up inside you and it can come out in different ways, and I don�t think you dealt with it properly. You�ve got to let yourself grieve�. If one more frigging person tells me that I have to grieve properly I am seriously going to lose it. Plus, I talk about that shit with a very select few, and my gran is definitely not one of them. I know I�m not depressed, and I wish people would stop talking about it with me like I am. If I were depressed, I�d know about it,

So yeah, that�s where we�re currently at. Lots of trying different drugs that I don�t even know I want to take. There�s going to be no miracle cures, no getting better quickly, no respite. I feel relatively proactive at the moment but I know that it won�t last forever, and also know that I can�t give up. Ugh, that peppy last comment is so blatantly not going to last five minutes.

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