“Insanity is keeping me company….insanity is on the loose.”

Saw the shrink. He asked me to try a new med. (second request) It’s called Fetzima (levomilnacipran). It’s an SNRI approved for MDD. Researching it, it seems to be, essentially, the same drug as Savella (milnacipran) approved only for fibromyalgia. But Forest Labs has tweaked it enough to get FDA approval for a “new” AD that has been on US markets about a year. Whoo…..

I agreed to think about it, and he sent me home with samples and an Rx. I took a 40 mg capsule around noon and 3 hours later I was flipping off a rude driver who took offense and stopped his truck in the road to consider his options re: kicking my ass and the funny thing was I was thinking “Come on. I’ll fuck you up if you want.” He went on his way and I was disappointed a bit. Two hours later, I was puking in the kitchen sink. Now 2 days later, it hurts to cough or sneeze due to the ferocity of the GI distress it induced. Lots of other nasty, potential side effects reported both in the literature and in online patient reviews. Ultimately, I’m supposed to take 80 mg daily.

To add insult to real injury – a 30 day supply of 80mg caps. is $292.00 without insurance at the pharmacy. FFS.

So, for now, I’m not taking any more. Perhaps after the holidays when I could stay home, undisturbed and puke in peace.



Yesterday was an odd day. I watched a BBC show in which part of the story was about a middle aged woman who knew she had a progressive neuromuscular disease that she had inherited from her mother. A disease that took her mother’s life and was certain to take hers. As her condition deteriorated she asked her MD to help her. She asked him to help her take her life before she lost her autonomy and self control. A death with dignity. He refused. So, she turned to a friend who helped her die with his sleeping pills and best whiskey.

Well, that triggered something and soon I was gathering supplies. I felt like I was on auto-pilot. I counted out the Ativan and put them in a little pile. I got the insulin out of the fridge and found an old glass syringe, which I put a new needle on. For some reason, I decided to get high and that distracted me and I ended up cutting instead. Since I’ve been taking an NSAID for my knee, it bled briskly for 2 hours. Made a right mess.

I see the shrink tomorrow. He usually triggers suicidal thoughts as he always asks “are you going to go home and kill yourself?” I just need a new sleeping pill as the Trazadone doesn’t keep me asleep and I wake around 3 am each night. I won’t be sharing Tuesday as I don’t trust him.

Anyway, that was Tuesday. Doc


“I’d have a lot to give…if I still gave a damn.” Zac Brown

I know many people develop their mental illness when they’re young. Kids, teens, 20 ‘s. Before they get the chance to try out different ideas, take chances, check out the world. So much time left.

I first got ill in my early 50’s. After I had had time to be a couple of things, find the music I wanted in my life, discovered what I like in a man, learned I was meant to be a healer, had real fun with friends, learned what kind of wine I liked.

I was just sitting here wondering if I would have chosen to wonder what might have been rather than mourn what is lost. Now, on those rare days when I rise to bake for the neighbors or cut and stack my winter firewood or blow the leaves, I remember feeling alive. But it never lasts and soon my real, old self is draining out of me again. My T tells me to get out of my head and go do something. Damn, the answer sounds so easy. But i can’t do it.

Many people think I should get a dog. They think that having a dog will make me happy again. Give me a routine, unconditional love, responsibilities. But, I believe what Caesar Milan says “You can’t control a dog until you can control yourself.” I am the wrong person to raise a dog. I have the wrong energy and a puppy would soon know. I am not me.

Sure, I’m educated, have some skills, am smart enough. I could do SOMETHING. Sure, sure, sure. Can’t see it happening, though. Just don’t care. Doc