Friends, I am tired. It has been far too long since I last saw Dr Nutkins-May, and despite talk of having access to an Administrative Practitioner Nurse, more regular appointments and exploring therapy options, I am exactly where I was nearly two months ago when I last had an appointment. I am still on 225mg venlafaxine and 25mg lamotrigine, and when I got my last prescription I was prescribed two months worth of both as Dr Nutkins-May is on holiday – and I’ve yet to receive another appointment.
More appointments, he said. Regular medication reviews, he said. I finally had a bit of hope for my treatment.
Since last week, I’ve noticed that my moods have started cycling again. Pretty damn rapidly as well. A small argument with the Husband turned into near full-on war thanks to how emotional I was. I’m starting to feel like I’m drowning under the weight of the responsibilities I have given myself whilst being functional and well. I’ve self-harmed again for the first time since last year.
The tip of the iceberg came today, when I woke up in a relatively happy mood. Had breakfast, watched Game of Thrones, pottered about online with the idea of getting some more productive things done after I’d boiled some eggs for lunch. Both Husband and I have got back on the Slimming World wagon, so I thought I’d throw together some salad. I went into the cupboard under the sink to get a pot for the eggs, and that’s when I noticed some very suspicious black pellets scattered around… Rats. No, literal actual rats. I texted Husband and told him what I’d found and quickly went into total meltdown. I felt my skin crawling at the thought of these things crawling around the cupboard at night while we slept, and suddenly I felt sick, dizzy, anxious, angry, upset – all at once. Are they in the bedroom? How about the bathroom? I don’t want to live here anymore, I can’t live here with rats crawling about. What if one bites Lady? What about Husband?
But I want pet rats, so how can I want to get rid of these ones? They’re just hungry, trying to survive, who am I to exterminate them? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, CLAIRE. It took me longer than necessary to prepare my food, and I retched while I was eating it as I thought of rats gnawing away at the cutlery. I locked myself and Lady in the bedroom and tried to play FFXIV but my hands and mind were not synced at all. I couldn’t stop twitching and tapping my legs, I felt like a rattled animal in a cage. Or, like a rat about to be poisoned.
Husband came home. We discussed my thoughts and feelings, and the fact that my moods have been unstable for far too long. He told me that the lowest dose of lamotrigine prescribed is 100mg – my baby dose of 25mg just isn’t effective enough. We both know it’s working, it’s made a huge difference to me, but by now the dosage should have been upped. I know I shouldn’t do anything without his say-so, but Nutkins-May has left me to my own devices for too long and I’m losing my mind again. I’m going to up the dose myself* and call for an appointment in the morning, because I can’t go back. Not again.
The feeling of being balanced for so long, only to fall apart again, is vile.
And yes, we are dealing with the infestation, I’m not mad enough to let a pack of wild rats live in the cupboard under my sink. I’ve calmed down now after visiting my nan and getting some perspective, though I’m sure I’ll have another panic as the evening goes on.
(*Don’t adjust your medication without your doctor’s supervision, I don’t condone it usually – but I am pretty fucking desperate right now.)