This next entry, as I alluded to in some other posts, is a lot
harder for me to write than anything prior. The problem is: I don’t remember a
lot of this. I don’t have the ability to understand the chronology of the
following events due to the mass amounts of medication I was on at the time. At
this point, I was constantly on and off various medications and had yet to find
anything to work, so the side effects included memory loss, which I had during
this time.
To continue telling the story, I did the only thing I knew I could
do…have my mother write it. The next few entries will be written by both
my mother and I. The majority of the text will be directly from her, as it
would be almost impossible for me to have any chronologically accurate
information to tell. In red will be my commentary regarding the events she’s
writing about. Without further ado, the continuation of my story!
In Oct 2004, Jesse is not doing well, but not at rock bottom yet.
He is not in school, what should be his first year of high school, but still
trying to go everyday. Some days he gets into a classroom for 5 minutes here
and there, but most days he doesn’t. He instead spends time in the nurses’
office, but he tries to stay in the building as much as he can but never makes
it to lunch time. The call comes to me to come pick him up. The anxiety
exhausts him. He needs to sleep. But each morning he tries. He gets up and
showers and walks down to the car. Sometimes he can’t even get in it. He needs
to turn around. I know before he does. I see it in his face and body language.
Day is done. He won’t leave the house other than doctors and trying school.
Won’t go out for meals, just won’t leave the house, and eventually, won’t even
leave his room. Everything is too much for him. On Oct 30th he has a stomach
flu and forgets all about his Celexa that he takes daily. He just stops it but
doesn’t realize it, doesn’t remember that he has forgotten it for
days.
On Nov 4th he
is physically sick and very agitated and acting very strangely. He realizes
that day he has not taken his pill in 5 days, and thinks he may not even have
even be taking it on a regular basis before that. He can’t remember. He looks
so confused. (This day is something I remember very well.
It was possibly one of the scariest moments of my life. I was sitting in my
room at my desk while my mother was in the shower. At that point, no one else
was at home and it was just us. I was sitting in my chair at my desk, surfing
the internet before getting ready. All of a sudden, I get a very faint feeling
unlike the feeling I get when I have my panic attacks. My body feels numb and I
fall out of my chair onto the ground. Everything is spinning and I am
completely unable to get up. I yelled as loud as I could, but I knew she was in
the shower. I ended up crawling out of my room to her bathroom door, and banged
on it until she heard me and said something was wrong...I couldn't get up)
I call Dr Hart, the neurologist, who says to start him back
on the Celexa. Jesse worsens during the next 2 days. He is unable to make
coherent sentences and is jitterier than ever. He doesn’t want me leaving the
house, but doesn’t want me near him either. On Nov 7th Jesse comes to me panicked. His hands
are numb and it is spreading down his arms. (Another of my finer medicine induced
traumatic experiences. I remember the feeling, which I could only liken to your
feet going numb after sitting on them for hours. It was one of the most intense
and terrifying feelings I have had. It started at my fingers, like the feeling
you get if you are hyperventilating, but I wasn't! I was breathing normally. It
then slowly started traveling up and up my arms until I couldn't recognize the
feeling of my own limbs.) We go to the Salem Hospital ER...it is anxiety and withdrawal from the
medication.
On Nov 22, Jesse began the generic form of
Celexa, per the insurance company's request. His condition changes back to what
he was like when he missed the pills within 3 days of starting them. His
anxiety level is higher than ever and he can’t even leave the house to try and
go to school. On Nov 29th he
is the worse yet, and almost asking me to help him without saying the words, so
Harv and Jesse and I spend the day at Mass General ER. (We ended up here after going to my pediatrician
presenting with some of the most severe anxiety I have ever experienced. When I
went, my heart rate was peaking around 130 and my physician thought I had
either a thyroid issue or my condition was deteriorating. I remember
laying on the exam table and being unable to sit still, my heart feeling like
it would beat out of my chest at the rate it was going! The physician suggested
I head to the ER immediately based purely on my symptoms and especially my
heart rate) They believe he is having a reaction to the non generic Celexa and
he goes back on the real Celexa (after a doctor override for the insurance
company) and the ER doctor there, a psychiatry resident named Dr blablabla decides he
should also go from 30 to 40mg. (This was also a fun
experience because they thought I may be under the influence of drugs so they
did a tox-screen. I'm surprised with how I was when I got there they didn't
pump me full of Narcan! Even while in the
waiting room, I was unable to sit. I was actually walking through the halls
outside of the ED waiting room, pacing outside at every chance until my mother
called me to say they called my name. The symptoms are the same I used to see
when working in the ER of the patients on crack cocaine or hallucinogens. To
reduce the symptoms, I remember they gave me Ativan, a drug I would later use
to treat my anxiety.) He gets better, but the panic is increasing and he is
not functioning well. His short term memory is disappearing. (No no...really. It went away. Remember that whole
thing about not remembering this in chronological order? Yup.) He has not been
able to attend school at all, makes me turn around on the car ride there
(though he tries to go every day) and the school rules say if 3 weeks of school
are missed in a row, he is eligible for home tutoring,
So on Dec 16th that begins, and on the 15th he starts
seeing a therapist at Salem Children’s Hospital. Neither goes well. The therapist,
Renee Sacks, is having a problem diagnosing him and never sees the attacks,
only the anxiety. She keeps mentioning his personality doesn't fit
the mold. The sessions with her are quiet. She seems stumped, and sometimes
says as much. I talk more than both of them put together, and when we leave her
office, he has little memory of being there. (I actually don't
remember her much at all from this. At this point my mind shut off I believe
and I was just far too overwhelmed. I remember many of the faces of physicians
I saw, but hers alludes me.) He is all over the room while there, his body is
there, but I know his mind is not, but Dr Sacks was recommended and
I have no one else I know of to see. The home tutoring is a waste. He can’t
concentrate, can’t think, can’t remember, can’t retain. The tutor, a woman,
leaves and Jesse asked me hours later if she is coming today. He has no clue
she was already with him for 90 minutes. She complains to me he is not
concentrating, and isn’t doing his homework. I explain what his problem is many
times. Why can’t anyone understand what he is going through. He can’t do
anything. It’s not her fault I guess...if therapists can’t help him or see the
problem, how can she? It seems if one can’t see it, that it doesn’t really exist.
I am frustrated.
