A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late October, 2000
Tuesday, October 24, 2000
Noon. I’ve decided to drop Journalism – that is, Sylvester’s course, Newswriting and Reporting. I need to do it by Friday, and I’ve already emailed him, telling him about my depression and asking when I can see him to get his signature on the form.
I also emailed Greg Shrader, asking for reassurance that I can get antidepressant medicine if I need it. The feelings I have seem like a classic case of major depression, according to the books I’ve read.
Teresa, when I called at 5:30 AM (I got up at 1:30 AM with my usual feeling of dread), thinks that I’m too suggestible. But Teresa isn’t the best person to talk to about this because she believes that if I changed my situation, I would feel better.
My feeling is that while moving to Arizona and experiencing the problems I’ve had here may have triggered this episode, it’s now taken on a life of its own.
I’ve been feeling really crummy since last night: that feeling of dread, ill-being and shakiness hasn’t gone away.
I expect the feelings will lift as the day wears on because the diurnal nature of this is part of the syndrome. By last night, for example, I felt quite relaxed as I watched TV and read.
Today I haven’t even looked at the New York Times, nor do I have much of an appetite even though reading the paper and eating are two of the activities I usually enjoy most.
I don’t know how I got through my class at Mesa Community College, but I lectured on commas, rather numbingly. I think on Thursday I’m going to tell the class that I have a clinical depression. I told that to Deborah and John before class.
Yes, I feel some stigma, but it’s important to be open about this. Deborah said that lots of people in the ASU English Department take Prozac.
I’m tired but not sleepy, or maybe I’m sleepy but not tired. It’s as if my mind has been fogged over months. I only wish I’d tried to consult a mental health professional before my symptoms became this severe.
Part of me thinks that accepting the fact that I’m ill is causing me to get worse. But as I told Mom, I’ve never felt this bad in my adult life. And the bad feelings are entirely out of proportion to the stress and unhappiness in my life.
This depression isn’t about anything; it just is – or so I feel. I guess it could have a physical cause, like a thyroid condition, and I probably do need a good checkup.
This all seems such a waste. Well, that’s about all my brain can handle now.
*
6 PM. I’m still a mess, but I did hear from Greg Shrader. He said he could get me antidepressants if I need them and said I should do some aerobic exercise and get an okay from United Health Care for a psychiatric evaluation.
I now believe he meant for one at the Center, but after I called and got a case number, I was given the names of local psychiatrists, none of whom could take me until December.
The HMO said I could go to my primary care provider, so I drove to ASU and went into triage at the Student Health Center.
The young Asian doctor there talked to me and ended up giving me a sample of Zoloft, starting with a week of 25 mg. pills. But I’m a little scared to start taking them tonight or in the morning because of side effects.
I never should have taken Triavil all these years. I now don’t know what to take tonight to make myself feel better. Should I start Zoloft? Or take an Ambien in hopes that it can help me sleep? Or should I avoid taking anything?
I feel as though I’m a drug addict and need to go cold turkey, although I almost feel that I am currently going cold turkey. I have no appetite, and my thinking is so distorted that it’s scary.
Earlier, I walked over to Starbucks for herb tea (no more caffeine for me), and I was sitting on their patio trying to read the paper and getting scared because my thoughts seemed psychotic.
Professor Sylvester said to leave the withdrawal form and he’ll sign it; he wished me good luck.
What the past ten days have done is stripped away any veneer of normality. It’s undeniable that I’ve slipped into the most serious depression of my adult life. I should have gone for help earlier when I was still functioning fairly well. Maybe I could have avoided feeling this bad.
I feel as if I’m fighting a major illness – and I am, of course. Thank God I took ASU’s student health insurance. The healthcare system is so much more of a mess than it was back when I could see Dr. Littman in the 1960s.
I can’t concentrate on anything but my illness. My mood lifted a bit as I drove home after seeing the doctor at ASU, but I don’t feel as well as I did last evening.
I weighed only 146 at the clinic – so much for my thinking I’ve gained weight. Today I didn’t feel like eating.
How did I get into this mess? And how will I get out of it? I’m scared.
Wednesday, October 25, 2000
2 PM. Last night I had another typical night: I slept from about 10 AM till 2 AM and lay awake shivering, but with sweaty palms. It’s as if I was going cold turkey from drugs. I took an Ambien, but once again, all I got was four hours’ sleep.
At 6 AM I decided to take a Zoloft 25 mg. pill. I exercised and had breakfast and became quite nauseated. I started to drive to ASU but felt scared of vomiting and came home.
After I called Demetria and had the substitutes cancel my classes, I figured I’d try to go to school. I turned back twice and then finally got to the Language and Literature Building, took down the cancellation notices and briefly met with the students in each of my classes.
I told them I was ill from my prescription for Zoloft – one kid said it does make you nauseated for the first four or five days – and left before 11 AM.
Oddly, when the waves of nausea subsided, I felt quite cheerful.
After the second class, I was alone in the elevator of the Nursing Building with this pretty Chinese boy, and he gave me such a deep smile that I registered it as flirting. This was the first time since I came to Arizona that I felt someone had found me sexually attractive.
Stopping for carrot/orange juice at Jamba Juice, I sat outside feeling the warm sun. It is a beautiful day, and I’m able to appreciate it.
Sat Darshan said she had nausea, diarrhea and other symptoms when she began taking Paxil, “but they disappeared after a few days.”
Mark Bernstein, though, said he couldn’t tolerate Zoloft, which made him so jittery that he passed out in an Iowa City diner.
Mark didn’t sleep all last night, worrying about his mother going into the nursing home in Miami Beach today.
I’ve been trying to ignore my waves of nausea, which so far have been very unpleasant but not incredibly intense. I did go to Stauffer Hall and got the withdrawal form into Sylvester’s mailbox. Hopefully I can pick it up on Thursday or Friday.
So now I don’t have to worry about going to class tonight. I don’t know whether I should take Zoloft tomorrow morning, as I don’t want to be sick for my appointment with Greg Shrader. I probably should not have started Zoloft on my own.
Well, that’s the midday report from the Depressed Corner.
*
5:30 PM. My brain must be really messed up. I can’t seat sit still (and I apparently can’t spell sit, either). I think that I should not have taken the Zoloft.
Right now, I’ve been trying to convince myself that my depression isn’t that bad, that I don’t need medication.
Maybe I need to wait to be evaluated. After all, perhaps medicating myself with Triavil all these years is what caused this problem.
In one sense, I’ve been no better than a drug addict. Maybe I do need to get off all drugs for a while. But I can’t judge.
I feel sweaty-palmed and nauseated, and I even had a half-hour when I felt unremittingly cheerful and bright.
Since another of Zoloft’s side effects is sleeplessness, I don’t expect to sleep any more tonight than usual – and maybe not at all – but somehow I’ll get through tomorrow.
I really need to talk to a shrink. I need an objective opinion as to what the matter with me is.
This is much scarier than I thought it would be. God help me – and also the ASU Counseling Department.
Thursday, October 26, 2000
5 PM. I keep thinking things can’t get any worse and they do. I am very scared about how I will get through the next few weeks.
Greg Shrader – it’s typical of me now that at first I have trouble remembering people’s names – scared me after our conversation because he made it sound as if I’ve got a serious illness.
He got me an appointment for a psychiatric evaluation at ASU in two weeks but urged me to call United Healthcare to find a psychologist before then.
The best I could do was get was an appointment with a psychologist, Dr. Susan Vaughan, on Election Day, just two days before my psychiatric evaluation.
(Greg said I shouldn’t be embarrassed to ask for someone who is gay-friendly, something that the lesbian worker who I happened to get on the phone affirmed.)
– – I just had to get a towel to write on because of my excessively sweaty palms.
The symptoms that kept me up last night were a racing heartbeat, tremors, nausea, gas and agitation. Now that could be from my depression or it could be – and I think it is – the Zoloft, which I stopped taking.
Or it could have been the Zoloft interacting with the Triavil; it raises tricyclic levels drastically, which may account for my racing heart and high blood pressure.
At Albertsons, my blood pressure was 153/90 and my pulse an incredible 129. Yesterday it was 100 at the Student Health Center, and that was before I took the Zoloft.
I do wonder if I have a heart problem caused by taking Triavil all these years. And during my all-but-sleepless night, I began to fret about my having hormone problems or adrenaline or thyroid…
So when I called Teresa at 5 AM (8 AM her time) to kvetch, I’m sure I sounded a little crazed. She pointed out, rightly, that I hadn’t followed the Ambien regime to regain sleep, that I didn’t follow the Zoloft regime once I had “a few” side effects.
Well, I now see that it was a mistake to stop taking the Ambien even if it didn’t seem to work. I never took another tablet after last Thursday.
And it was also a mistake to start taking Zoloft – but as Greg said, I wanted to get better as soon as possible, and I figured I wouldn’t have any side effects because Paul and Jade didn’t. But with the complication of my tricyclic intake, I need to take drugs under a doctor’s care.
Needless to say, I was a wreck this morning and came this close to canceling my class at MCC. Instead, I went in and told the other adjuncts in the office that I was having a bad reaction to Zoloft. I planned to tell my students the same thing.
The department secretary – who I always thought was unfriendly to me – overheard us and came in to tell me privately that she’s been taking Zoloft for six years and Paxil for two years. Her only symptom at first was diarrhea for a month.
I don’t know whether I’m being a wimp for not sticking with Zoloft, but nausea is the one symptom that I can’t deal with because that’s how my panic attacks used to manifest themselves.
Indeed, I started out for my appointment with Greg and came back, afraid that I would freak out on the road just the way I did on Wednesday morning. But I actually made it, even going on the freeway.
I got a great parking space near student services and even had time to get the withdrawal slip from Professor Sylvester and process it at the registrar.
Now my only class is Arizona Media Law, and I can’t go to it tonight. Even if I can’t make it, it’s not that big of a deal.
Greg said I’ve got to mourn the loss of my Nova job and my life in Florida. He urged me to do aerobic exercise three to five times a week, and as tired as I was, I did so this afternoon.
My MCC class surprised me. I leveled with them about my depression and had them write an essay in class. When I apologized for being a lousy teacher, they all said I was the best English teacher that ever had.
That made me feel better, and it seemed like I bonded with them today.
Sunday, October 29, 2000
6 PM. The rest of the country changed the time last night, but here in Arizona, it’s the same time. I’ve just got to remember that the East Coast is now only two hours ahead of us and the West Coast is now an hour behind us.
I called EMPACT at 1 PM and since they were busy, they transferred me to another crisis line. I spoke to a woman who said I should stop reading so much about depression.
“You’re not even officially diagnosed yet,” she said. “You might have a physical illness.”
I doubt it. But it’s undeniable that I’m focusing too much on the course of major depression and its treatment. The crisis hotline woman urged me to do something I usually enjoy, and when I said maybe I’d go to the movies, she suggested Meet the Parents.
As it happened, the movie was playing in five minutes at the Poca Fiesta, so I rushed over there, paying $3.75 For the 1:20 PM matinee.
I found myself getting into the comedy and forgetting my problems – even if I did have to go to the men’s room about six times. Maybe I just had drunk too much earlier.
I felt crummy again by the time I left the theater, but I was hungry, so I came home and had a sweet potato, half a grapefruit and some diet ice cream.
Then I went to the Fiesta Mall for an hour and window-shopped, trying on some athletic shoes but not buying any.
My feet may start to hurt from the aerobics I did yesterday and today. I desperately need new shoes, but I always have a problem adjusting to them.
Anyway, it was good to be out among people today. It made me feel alive a little.
This morning after another sleepless night, I went to Osco and asked if they could call the doctor at the ER and see if he would renew my Ambien. It’s a longshot, but I’ll try it. They said to call tomorrow afternoon.
At the blood pressure machine, my pressure was down to 137/85 and my pulse rate was only 83. At home, I did aerobics but felt nauseated afterwards.
I got an email from Ken Nunn thanking me for supporting his resignation as deemed to protest the lack of black faculty at UF law.
At Starbucks, I had some herbal (peppermint) tea and tried to read on their terrace, but I found it hard to focus.
Walking home through the complex, I saw this black and white cat that reminded me of Camelot, the cat I adopted in Gainesville. He looked lost and let me pet him. I felt like taking him home but I didn’t.
Maybe I need a cat to care for: something to take my mind off myself, especially when I start to obsess.
Monday, October 30, 2000
4 PM. I have an emergency appointment with the psychiatric nurse practitioner tomorrow, and I need it. I felt so sick during my second class today that I stopped at the Student Health Center afterward.
I was in triage for a couple of hours. My case obviously wasn’t as serious as I thought it was because I thought I might be having a heart attack.
But it turned out my heart was beating only 73 beats a minute when they examined me, and the doctor said my heart sounded fine. My blood pressure was also good. When I held my hands out in front of me, they trembled a bit.
The doctor had me take blood tests for thyroid, diabetes and other functions, which she expected to show nothing; She said she’d call me if the test came up with anything out of the ordinary.
She said I seem to be more anxious than I am depressed, though I think I probably do have depression.
Even with the whole tablet of Ambien last night, I slept only four hours and got up at 2 AM, so by morning I was a wreck.
I told my students I wasn’t feeling great and I had them peer review each other’s first draft. All through my classes I felt extremely sick and shaky, and I’m sure I must have looked crazed.
I’ve aged a great deal in the past couple of months. My eyes are ringed by black circles, as you’d expect from lack of sleep, and my skin has a putty color – at least that’s how it looks to me. Maybe I look better than I think I do.
The doctor today urged me to go stay with my parents tonight, but a heavy rainstorm was predicted – and it’s starting now – and getting to Apache Junction and then to Mesa Community College early tomorrow would make me extremely anxious. So I’ll try to get through the night here.
Tuesday, October 31, 2000
7 PM. It’s Halloween, and an adorable little black boy in a skeleton costume just came to my door to trick or treat. He’s been my only visitor all day. I gave him fifty cents.
For whatever reason – perhaps sheer exhaustion – I managed to sleep pretty well last night. When I woke up at 2 AM, I figured I wouldn’t get back to sleep.
I thought I was wide awake until I realized that I had just been thinking that Grandpa Nat had called and was coming to my apartment here in Mesa after work. Grandpa Nat? I must have been dreaming.
Later I seemed to go back asleep again because I woke up with an erection.
I could barely stir at a bed at 6:30 AM and I went to MCC without even showering, the way I sometimes would when I taught an 8 AM Broward Community College class or would go to 8 AM classes in law school in Gainesville.
There was a handwritten note in my mailbox from Doyle asking if I would teach English 102 at the same Tuesday/Thursday 7:30 AM hour in the spring. I walked into his office and said okay. It’s probably the last thing I should have done, but I can always change my mind in three months.
Adjuncts should never turn down classes when they’ve gotten nothing else.
My English 101 class didn’t have that many students, but I was in incredible form, ad-libbing and having teachable moments.
Only when I left the college did a surge of depression and anxiety rise, but I forced it down. I exercised – though I need to stop doing aerobics, as my tendonitis is acting up.
(I ordered New Balance walkers like mine from an ad in the New York Times for Harry’s on 83rd and Broadway.)
Today was unseasonably chilly. It was 50° when I left the house with a high of 66° at a time when our usual high is about 79°. But it was sunny.
Alice called and we spoke for a while. Though of course she meant well, Alice just made me feel worse.
She said she thought my move to Arizona was a mistake, that I need to be far away from my family. Then she started in saying that my whole life, I’ve kept moving around and never really accepted adulthood.
Of course she didn’t put things out that judgmentally and said it would be “a complete waste” to feel bad about past decisions – but our conversation made me start to shake a little.
I left for ASU at 1:30 PM and did some more grading and photocopying in the language and literature building before my 3 PM appointment with Bev Reinhart, a psychiatric nurse practitioner at Student Health.
I didn’t find her to be that warm and sympathetic and got the feeling I exasperated her – but that could be my misperception. She seemed judgmental about my Triavil use and my taking vitamins and supplements.
Then she told me she had canceled next Thursday’s appointment with the psychiatrist and was going to do the psychiatric evaluation herself.
Bev made me think that my depression is not that serious when she said I needed to take practical steps to get out more, join organizations and meet people.
She’s right, of course. I spend far too much time alone in this apartment. I need to force myself to go out and do stuff and get some friends here besides Sat Darshan.
At first I told her I wanted a tricyclic antidepressant, but she said I’d need an EKG and that the SSRIs were much better drugs. Zoloft was her choice, but I opted for Paxil because sleepiness is much more common with it than it is with Zoloft.
I got the prescription at the pharmacy and they’ll charge it to my ASU account, which has a credit balance. But I’m not going to take the first pill until tomorrow night.
Now that might sound like I’m delaying treatment, but my feeling is I need to teach at ASU tomorrow morning and I don’t want to have any symptoms. If I need to, I can cancel my Thursday MCC class and even my Friday ASU classes.
Of course, stopping the Triavil will probably cause me to have some symptoms. If this is going to be like cold turkey the way it was last Wednesday, I would like to have four days, including the weekend, to deal with the nausea, shakes, etc.
I don’t know what the course of this depression is going to be, but even before I saw Bev, today was proof that I’m not going into an irreversible downward spiral.
Bev said I need to “come up with a plan.” Teresa said the same thing.
I need a plan to change my life and find something more satisfying – either here in Arizona or home in New York or back in Florida or somewhere else. I need to figure out a way to get a job and a community around me.
Tom sent me some very encouraging emails before he left for Europe. He started a fourth Encyclopedia Mouse novel, which he’ll pick up on his return to New Orleans.
Tom said I should come for a visit, and I think I will do that sometime in December or January. Maybe I could just go for the weekend. Hopefully I’ll be feeling better by then.
– – Another trick-or-treater, a little white boy in a superhero costume I didn’t recognize, just came to my door, and I gave him fifty cents.
Somehow I survived October 2000.