A Total Eclipse Of The Heart
Surreal. Impossible to put into words – even for me, who lived it. Waking in the morning – still – cautiously probing my mind to see where I am today – back among the living or still one of the walking dead. Hmmm… I’m feeling as though I CAN get up and actually ENJOY my day. But, will it last? Or will the Darkness descend again? Finally, I think we’re on the right track to getting me back to my normal self – whatever that may be.
How complex our bodies are – that the mishandling of a couple of proteins, usually seratonin and/or norepinefferin, can TOTALLY change who a person is and what their life if like. And, those of us who have this malfunction have no more control over what it does to us than a diabetic does over the effects their lack of insulin does to them. Nor can we will ourselves into overcoming this lack any more than can a diabetic. They have diabetes whether they want it or not. We have Major Clinical Depression.
Since I probably inherited this defect, depression has been a way of life with me ever since I can remember. Still, nothing had EVER – nothing COULD ever – prepare me for what has been happening to me for the last year. In fact, until the summer of 2000 things had been going extraordinarily well. A doctor had FINALLY taken my depression seriously and put me on one of the new anti-depressives, Zoloft. Zoloft is one of the SSRIs – Selective Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitor. Meaning it makes the seratonin hang around longer so you get more benefit from it. Maybe I was still depressed by many people’s standards, but for me it was like turning on a light I didn’t even know existed. I kept thinking, “Where has this stuff BEEN all my life!?” Then the world turned upside down, and I fell off. And kept on falling…
First was the utterly devastating discovery that DJ – who seemed the picture of health – had aplastic anemia that affected every line of cells in his blood. His bone marrow had simply shut off, and no one had a clue as to why or what to do about it. We lived this Death Watch for two years before he finally succumbed in March 2002. We still don’t know why.
Reeling from the shock of losing DJ and unable to sleep, I was surfing the Net and ran across an incredible three-year-old green broke Morgan stallion with the unlikely barn name of Indy. I will NEVER believe this happened by chance. As everyone knows, I purchased Indy, his breeder had him gelded and delivered him to me personally.
As everyone probably also knows, Indy developed infections in his castration incisions on both sides. One was obvious, and my vet had to recastrate him on that side. The other didn’t become obvious until Indy had developed a life-threatening abscess attached to the outside of his bladder. The prognosis was “fair” rather than “guarded” only because the abscess was in what his surgeon described as, “a relatively benign area.” Unfortunately, also an inoperable area.
For four weeks Indy was hospitalized at the Purdue Large Animal Hospital while they did the only thing they could do – pump IV antibiotics into his system and HOPE they could reach the walled off bacteria inside the abscess and that they would be effective against them if they did manage to penetrate.
The day before we were to take Indy the 100 miles to Purdue to start all this, my precious, precious 17 year old dog, Nicky had either a stroke or a heart attack. He had seemed to be in excellent health, especially for his age, and this was very sudden.
My vet did what he could, but there was really nothing to be done. Two days later, the vet eased my Nicky on over the Bridge as I held him in my arms. Mike laid him to rest next to DJ, and the next morning we headed off to Purdue with Indy. It would be over a month before I knew whether he too would soon join DJ and Nicky in the corner of the pasture.
Indy recovered, but I did not. Events seemed to cascade completely out of control. I awoke every morning wondering what the Disaster Of The Day would be, and dreading finding out. Then, when Mike’s now 89-year-old dad finally started losing in his long battle with prostate cancer, it was the last straw…
There was joy in nothing – not even the horses, because I felt I was neglecting them. After I did what I had to do to take care of them, there was nothing left in me to do much but hang out and maybe a little grooming. The only time I left the house was to go to the barn, and even that took monumental effort. I had NO control over my emotions – NONE. I cried most of the time, and I could NOT stop. I could hardly see, I cried so much. But no matter how many tears I shed, they did nothing to relieve the Pain – the unbearable, all consuming Pain.
I could hardly eat, and I wouldn’t have eaten as much as I did without Mike’s urging. I had an overwhelming need to sleep. Sleep, sleep and more sleep. Many days, except for the time I spent caring for the horses, I slept around the clock and still felt exhausted. I had NO energy. I hurt all over. I just wanted to go back to bed and SLEEP.
It was terrifying. I truly felt as if I were losing my mind. I felt like a car with a faulty alternator – all kinds of demands on the battery, but no way to recharge it. Like that battery, I felt used up, dead. A battery can get to the point that it can no longer TAKE a charge – the cells are truly gone. I wondered if I were at that point. Given the fact that it’s now known that uncontrolled depression causes a chemical cascade that is so toxic to the brain that neurons are killed, it seemed entirely possible…
When my weight slid below 115 lbs. (I’m 5’4”), my doctor suggested that, instead of another increase in my dose of Zoloft, that we try another antidepressant. They all work a bit differently, and the one we settled on – Effexor – affects norepenephrin as well as seratonin. It took a while because I had to slowly reduce the Zoloft, and then work up to a therapeutic dose of Effexor. And, of course, even at therapeutic doses, these types of drugs may take weeks before they cause noticeable effects. This was a most difficult transition period, as you might expect, but as it turns out, well worth it. The Effexor is WORKING!
Not only am I starting to feel like myself again mentally, I’m starting to get my energy back. It’s hard even for me to believe how much the depression affected my body. I had begun to doubt that I would be physically ABLE to ride again. I felt as if I’d aged a hundred years, and it all just – went away.
What does all this have to do with Indy and Ami that I would post it in Indy’s Journal? Nothing really, except that they were two of the main reasons that I kept on keeping on through all those dark months. DJ’s big Morgan shoulder wasn’t there for me to cry on, but Indy’s was. And this sharing strengthened that special bond between us that only adversity can forge.
Though it doesn’t have anything to do with Indy either, I could not end this narrative without also mentioning Mike, who MUST be the world’s most understanding and supportive husband. Though he’s never experienced this kind of depression, he understood that I could no more control it than his Dad can control his cancer. Without Mike’s unconditional support and endless patience, I don’t think I could have gotten through all this.
ENOUGH about ME, already. Mr. Indy has been up to his usual mischief, and I’m behind in reporting it. More about that next time. :o)
suzym on 02.03.04 @ 10:53 AM CST [link] [4 Comments]
