The nurse at my doctor’s office encouraged me to see the midwife who is well-versed in women’s sleep deprivation, depression and hormone issues. I wholeheartedly agreed. I love the midwives. I delivered all four children with midwives. Sign me up. I need to see a midwife.
She listened. She empathized. She laughed. (I’m still funny even when I’m depressed.) She pointed out anyone would be depressed at the stage of life I’m at with the ages of my children. (That made me kind of sad.)
She sent me home with a NEW prescription that she was SURE would work for me. It was in a different family of drugs than the other two I had taken in the past. I had been properly weaned from the first med and could start the new med the very next day.
She also sent me home with a sleeping pill prescription. I was craving sleep in a giant way.
I took one and lay in bed all night waiting for it to work. No such luck.
Have I mentioned that PhilBillPaul snores like a stuck pig? He has done this for all 20 years of our marriage. I’ve been incredibly tolerant if I do say so and I am saying so now. But at this time in my life, his snoring, or more accurately, my newly developed extreme sensitivity to noise had wreaked more havoc on my sleep patterns.
12 weeks later. Still exhausted. Volatile. Witchy. I called the doctor’s office and talked to the nurse again. She said I should definitely be feeling better by now. Time to start weaning off this drug that wasn’t working and make another appointment. They wanted me to come in and talk to the midwife again.
She was baffled. She couldn’t believe that neither med worked. I asked about hormone levels and doing other blood work to test everything that seemed to be going wrong with my body (and mind). She thought it might be time for a pysch evaluation. I volunteered to check in to a facility where I could sleep for a week or two. She laughed…again.
I left with the names of two psychiatrists she recommended and a new anti-anxiety med that might help on the “really bad days” (until we could figure out what was wrong with me).
Two days later, I had The Grunter pinned to the wall and I was screaming till my throat hurt. I literally fell apart. I could not breathe. I called PhilBillPaul and through my hysterical sobbing I begged him to come home and take me to a hospital that would help me…
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To be continued…
If you missed part one, two or three…
The Black Hole, Part One
The Black Hole, Part Two
The Black Hole, Part Three
Or to read more of the riveting story that I probably should just turn into a free ebook…
The Black Hole, Part Five
The Black Hole, Part Six
The Black Hole, Part Seven
