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2008 Report Card / Trip Report

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So I finally cave in a month or five ago. I went to a trick cyclist. Incredibly expensive (not covered by insurance, could kick my heels in public health corridors for six months or so if I wanted...)

Was it worth it?

Well, so I gave it a fair go and I opened my heart and the bugger did listen carefully, I'll grant him that.

Prescribed Amitriptyline and blood tests to tweak the dose etc. etc.

Mailed a detailed report to the GP and copy to my house.... (Ah Doc, I did mention my wife was the anxious/panic attack type, I don't have to worry, she does it all for me.) Well, naturally she read it.... and instantly increase the size of her problem totally out of control...

Well, let's let that comic slap stick three door farce brew awhile while we chat about Amitrip.

Charming stuff, after awhile I got around to reading the side effects list... I think I manage to hit every one. No libido, fleas of a thousand camels infesting my soul case. (bugger bugger bugger ooohhh try not to scratch skin ragged when entering the shower) incredibly dry mouth. (Did you know that a saliva free mouth is really really Bad for gums, teeth, and every mucuous membrane from your mouth to your anus? Neither did I. I found out the really really hard way.)

Oh yes, did Amitrip work? Nah. But then neither did celexa, nor nortriptyline, nor aropax... just steady mood, steadily downwards lower and lower and lower.

So let's get back to that farce shall we?

So the my mood hits record lows and the family feud spins out of control and so I retreat to curl up in misery on my bed....

... I hear things hotting up more and more, if I intervene I will go out of control, so I chuck my cellphone on the bed so I can't be nagged back into the inferno and sprint out the door, into the car and into the hills.

There I sit in abject misery, deepest hell, for several hours till the sun sets.

Slowly I drag myself homeward, muttering incredibly bitter imprecations against life the universe and everything.

Crawl into the house.... bugger! The house is full of wailing and helpful neighbour and Oh Shit I can't cope with this... so I undress, get into my pyjamas, switch off the light and crawl into bed.

Then I hear they had called the police out to look for me. SHIT!

And they coming back! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! I have had hell at work, I feel like shit, I have had an utterly miserable day, and now I'm suppose to handle the boys in blue as well? No! I can't take it! Bugger this! Bugger this! So I grab a jacket and head out again.

Helpful neighbour stops me driving off. I resist the urge to punch her, after all, she just thinks she is being helpful. So I get out and walk. Wife follow. I tell her to go back and stuff the police genie back into the bottle she summoned from. Eventually I get really angry and bitter to a degree I have _never_ done before and yell at her to go back and handle them.

She goes back and I sit in the dark in the park

Next I see is bright lights. So I head out the side. The bright lights follow. Bugger Bugger Bugger. Paste on cheerful, face, steer a course for home. Cheerful, bland and helpful. (Think of that "Madagascar" animated movie and the Penguins... "Smile and Wave Boys, Just Smile and Wave!")

Eventually, after a few helpful hints about emergency services they leave.

I crawl into bed.

Next day I do a graceful collapse on the stairs of the shopping mall. In bed with Raging fever and flu for the next few days.

So eventually the final blood tests are in, the blood levels of the Amitrip are in the therapeutic range, and the GP rats on his deal to handle this further, so I take myself off Amitrip. Thanks to Jarrod's crazymeds advice I taper off slowly.

Part of the reason for the Amitrip in the first place was it's use as a migraine prophylatic. Didn't do much on that front.

Except on withdrawal. Then it did lots! A really nasty migraine per day for about two weeks.

Ok, so I'm off, and I eventually recover from the side effects.

Where to now?


The trick cyclist's conscience finally pricks him and he phones me. He is out of tricks. His bag is empty. Unless I feel like paying for REMERON (mirtazapine) for myself.

Hmm. Two bottles of the best scotch or a months supply of mirtazapine? Which will work better? At least I'm sure the scotch will work... pity strong drink upsets my stomach so.

Currently I'm trying to digest that Dr Burns "Feeling Happy" CBT book.

I've got as far as the cheerful page for Helpful Friends and Concerned Relatives. Nice little diagnostic questions you can ask your depressed hubby to judge whether, as Dr Burns advises, you should instantly dragged him off under police supervision to the hospital emergency...

FUCK YOU BURNS! My life over the last 15 years would not have been better if I had been dragged off under police supervision to the emergency services EVERY BLOODY WEEK FOR THE LAST FIFTEEN YEARS! Get it Right you Asshole before you write a book!

After a year like that, I've earned a chance for a bit of a rant.

The libido is back with a Bang.

That's Good.

So where to now?


The mountains as often as I can I guess.

It's quiet.


I didn't Welcome 2009.

I ignored it and camped deep in the mountains.

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