It’s been just a bit over two months since I quit Cymbalta (under doctor’s orders, for those who have not been following along). Over the past two weeks, I’d say I’ve had more good days than bad. Most days, I have not needed more than two lorazepam. On the really good days, I’ve only needed one, at bedtime. I am still crying a lot, but my husband assures me that most of the time I do have good reason. I still have to remind myself not to fight the tears when they come, because when I do it turns into a panic attack. Contrary to my childhood conditioning, there’s no shame in crying.
Today is one of the less-than-good days. I have been wrestling with anxiety all morning and will need a lorazepam with my lunch. I know the cause of the anxiety – I had my seven months overdue labwork done yesterday, and there was an email from the doctor covering for my former primary care doctor asking me to come in to discuss the results. Normally, my results appear online and I just have to log in to see them. I know that he wants me to come in because I haven’t had an office visit since December. My brain is galloping away with me anyway, telling me there must be something wrong. I know that if there was something seriously wrong, he would have called me instead of sending an email. The part of my brain that controls the anxiety attacks isn’t getting the message.
Tomorrow, I should hear from my psychiatrist about the results of my labwork testing my depakote levels. If it’s at therapeutic levels, then my dose gets left alone and I can finally go for a refraction exam and get new glasses (and therefore the freedom to drive again). If it’s too high or too low then there will be dosage adjustments and I will have to wait a few months more for the glasses.
I am really looking forward to the day when all of my levels balance out again.