About three years ago- very close to exactly, as it was monsoon season in Tucson- I had to make a trip to the emergency room for some shooting pains and minor tremors, conditions that had lasted for a couple days. After a fairly quick trip through the process*, the diagnosis was a panic attack, and I was sent to a physician. Following the advice of the emergency care doctor, I was diagnosed as depressed, sent to get two different anti-depressants, and sent on to get some blood work just to check things out.
Turns out I had liver problems, early stages of cirrhosis kind of thing. While I may actually have been depressed, the quick diagnosis of a panic attack was a bunch of hooey: there was something wrong with my body, and it wasn't "just in my mind".~ The quick- I would even use the word "premature"- diagnosis of depression rankles even to this day, and makes me wonder just how often this sort of thing happens, and what troubles, even disasters, come about as a result.
It certainly reinforced my opinion that a lot of medication is being handed out to deal with the shittier parts of life, though a recent experience with Vicodin has taught me some compassion on the issue. (The stuff made me feel 25 again, in a way, and this can be very attractive.) In the earlier years of medicine, I understand, patients called to them and told them what was wrong with them, rather than the reverse situation of the last hundred plus years; when it comes to anti-depressants, though, I wonder if a bit of the old ways has crept back into the system. (Another option is that the pendulum has swung far the other way, with doctors seeing depression to quickly rather than too slowly.)
The subject is certainly complicated. Are doctors prescribing a lot of anti-depressants? Sure, but I'm not willing to place all the blame on them-- the demand by patients seems to have skyrocketed as well. Would regulation or oversight help? Maybe, though it seems a bit early to declare the "free market" side of this a failure-- yet.
*Not sarcastic. It took about an hour, which, considering it wasn't anything that required immediate help, was pretty good time for the middle of the morning.
~Yes, I am sensitive to the troubles this word can raise when it comes to depression and mental illness-- but I'm still a little pissed off at the whole series of events.
Ex ignorantia ad sapientiam; e luce ad tenebras
Her doctor's response was to place the woman on antidepressants to make her feel better about herself. Ultimately, the pills relieved her anxiety as the husband frittered away the marital assets.
This story seems somewhat apocryphal even if it's itself true. Under proper medical care, the woman should have been relieved of her anxiety so that she could maturely address the situation and take action to better her own life. This is why pharmaceuticals and talk-therapy tend to go hand in hand to help people better their lives. But we already knew this.
make it rain you nappy headed ho's
In response to the question in the Q, I have not seen Sicko. I just think M. Moore is just too abrasive and sensationalistic sometimes and I don't need to spend $8.75 to learn something I already know (the health care system is all farbled up).
How about you?
At this time tomorrow I will be on a moderately priced tropical vacation. Please don't expect any posting from me for at least a week.
So, if anybody needs me I'll be at Señor Tadpole's having a margarita made in my mouth.
Here I am, dipping in with an intensely personal post after lurking for months.
I was on Zoloft for a few weeks years ago after visiting my OB/GYN with complaints of PMS. Depression, anxiety, lethargy, severe mood-swings (I was even worried about possible Bipolar issues), etc. I was given a hefty supply of free Zoloft with a 'script for more.
I took the free samples and within a week, I was in this bland, khaki-colored stupor that was oh, so pleasant. Nothing could touch me. And speaking of touching, I also could no longer have orgasms. I ask you, what is more depressing than not being able to have orgasms?
As such, I weaned myself painfully off the Zoloft and went for a more holistic approach; yoga, better diet, getting plenty of rest, etc. This seems to work, but I still do occasionally lose my marbles before my period. Fortunately, Mr. spinerfemme would rather deal with my mood swings than do the lovely with someone who seems to barely care about what's going on.
The whole experience really soured me on my doc. I quit going to her and chose someone else. Why was she so quick to hand off the pills? Was it easier for her? Did she need to off-load a huge supply of free samples from the manufacturer? She didn't even ask me to follow-up with her once I'd tried the new meds. Either way, it was clear to me that she didn't really have my best interests in mind. And this part is what really let me down. Here I am, stupidly assuming that my health care professionals actually care about my health. I know, I'm naive. Guess I need to go see SiCKO.
"Did you see that?" he asked, excitedly. "My thought just hit your jacket and then floated to the ground like my favorite piece of cheese!"
Just take drugs they have less side-effects.
Tipping Sacred Cows
