On Being Medicated

In my former life, I was never a big medication taker. I was reluctant to even take an over-the-counter painkiller for a headache because I felt like the painkillers were just masking the pain and if I had a headache, I preferred to know about it. So unless something truly severe was going on, I preferred to just feel it and deal with it, knowing it would eventually go away.

I may not be a pill popper under normal circumstances but chronic illness is not a normal circumstance. It's a different story when the offending feelings are a daily thing. Daily symptoms get old fast. The pain feels worse, not necessarily because it is off the pain chart but because it just keeps going. There is no end in sight.

I've tried a number of medications over the past 5 years and none of them made me feel any better but most of them did plenty by the way of side effects. Mr Amazing lovingly refers to me as side-effect girl. I don't usually get the really bad side effects of a medication (ulcers, liver disease, death) but I do often get the lesser side effects that just add more discomfort to an already full pot. Plus the meds most often prescribed to me usually have all of my symptoms listed as possible side effects and it can become difficult to tell whether or not my body is causing a symptom or if a medication is causing a symptom. For example, anti-dizzy medications warn that they may cause dizziness. (Oh, the irony.) And sure enough, I always felt dizzy (or more dizzy) when I took them.

A few months ago, my Rheumatologist prescribed a medication for me to try. He prescribed the lowest dose possible to be taken at bed time only. And to my surprise, it seemed to help with only one minor side-effect: drowsiness. 

When I saw him next, I asked my Neurologist to increase the dose a little and let me try it during the day. He obliged. 

I'm still on a low dose and it doesn't take everything away but it is making my life feel more manageable at times and I've even had a number of days where I can say I felt good, which really means something. My good days per month were dwindling to a measly one or two if I was lucky. Now, for the most part, I'm having at least one good day a week and have even been caught on a couple of occasions using the word great to describe how I feel.

Again, that's really saying something.

Even though I'm being helped by this medication, it's kind of scary to tell people about it because there are some people who feel that prescription medications are a form of poisoning or are the root of all evil or who feel that we, the chronically ill, should be spending more time hugging trees and being positive instead of swallowing pills. I'm not against having a positive attitude and I love nature but the fact is that sometimes marveling at nature and laughing isn't enough. Sometimes people need help because they are in too much pain to laugh or to go for a walk. Sometimes people need help managing their symptoms and no amount of star gazing or bird watching with a smile is going to change that.

I hate to think of people being alienated this way, shamed for trying to feel better.

Juxtaposed against that anti-medication position is the false sense some people have that medication can fix everything. Like the specialist I saw most recently who said to me, concerning my use of this new medication, "This means you are recovering."

I cocked my head at that.

In this instance, I'm pretty sure all it means is that I'm medicated.

Don't get me wrong. I'm incredibly grateful for this medication. It's just that if I stopped taking this medication, I'm 99.9% sure that feeling like the unmentionable pile of **** inside a porta-john would become my daily reality all over again. This completely negates the theory that I'm recovering.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel like everyone just needs to take a chill pill (preferably prescription strength) and focus on the fact that medications and nature and positive attitudes are all aides for well-being. There is no shame necessary for whatever combination a person chooses to use in order to help relieve some of their suffering.

I'm using prescription medication but I won't be shamed about it. I've needed my cane less often. I haven't had as many days of tears running down my cheeks because my pain is unbearable. Pain isn't keeping me awake every night. The dizziness seems to be going on vacation periodically. I'm still having many issues and break through pain and bad days that leave me not wanting to move or think or exist. In fact, this whole week I've been incredibly sick and the meds haven't seemed to help at all. But there are moments now when I feel less sick and more like myself.

I'm medicated but I'm happy about it. And I will happily continue to swallow my pills while I search for answers and a path toward healing and recovery, which may include prescription medications, laughter and marveling at everything under the sun.