Not going to fall for that one again

According to my doctor, I'm depressed.

Perhaps I should begin by clarifying what I mean by “my doctor.” After having put up with an upset stomach off and on for months, and after having completed a self-prescribed weaning from the medication I had been for the previous 9 years, and after being fed up with walk-in clinics (the waiting, the inconsistency, the not belonging) I decided to look into finding a doctor. My aunt knew of one in St. Catharines who was taking new patients. Lest I begin a rant about the availability of doctors in Ontario, let’s just say I decided to check her out.

She has some interesting philosophies (maybe I should say rules): the most significant being that she will treat (and by that I mean discuss) only a single problem at a time. When she first told me that, it seemed appealing. The idea of a doctor running through the patient’s long list in a single meeting makes me nervous. They’re not supermen, after all…how can they be expected to focus on 8 things at once? Anyway, 7 months and 5 appointments later, my doctor tells me that by her diagnosis I have mild-moderate depression. Her solution: drugs!

Now, there are plenty of reasons for me to be resistant to any kind of medication (and when I say be resistant, I really mean freak out and run away). Anyone who has known me for more than a year knows that I’m not the same person he/she used to know. For one, I talk now. That may seem like a very fundamental part of human relationship, but I didn’t used to do it. A more accurate description would be that while I would often fulfill my role in speaking words, I wouldn’t actually share. Everyone was kept at an arm’s length; no one was permitted to know what I was feeling inside. That was partly due to the fact that (and this is the second point) I was unaware of my emotions. In fact, I am just now –- at the age of 27…almost -- learning to feel and interpret those feelings. I really would make a fascinating case study for anyone interested in human emotion. I often have to think logically through the events and circumstances that led me to tears to figure out whether they’re the result of sadness, frustration, fear, or joy. No, I can usually tell joy. Anyway, I blame this inability to function on an emotional and interpersonal level on the fact that I was on medication for 9 years (there must always be a scapegoat). But whether or not that is true, the last thing I want to hear from anyone is “how about trying this drug.”

But I promised I would think about it and do a little research. The first site I visited stopped me in my tracks. According to the FDA in its Effexor Information, medication that is meant to help depressed people, may actually cause them to become suicidal. They write, "Several recent scientific publications report the possibility of an increased risk for suicidal behavior in adults who are being treated with antidepressant medications.” What irony! That's like saying medication meant to lower your blood pressure may cause a heart attack or pills that treat stomachache give you nausea. Sheesh!

I will keep my promise to look into this futher, but let's just say it's not lookin' good, doc.