stopped in my tracks part 1

I take my health for granted. Who doesn't, really? People go along their merry way, minding their own business, thinking all is right with the world until something happens that pulls us up by the scruff of the neck and says, "Hold on just a minute, mortal." Consider me duly yanked. In the interest of painting a complete picture, I am going to be 100% honest in this post. It's not that I'm a pathological liar, ordinarily (although, if I were, would I know it, really?); it's just that up until now I haven't been comfortable talking about most of this stuff. But, this "stuff" is who I am--no sense in denying it. If you're not interested in a descriptive history, I won't feel bad if you take a pass on this post. About a year ago, I went to the doctor when I discovered that I probably needed some help regarding some mood swings and depression I'd been experiencing. The turning point was when I broke my bathroom closet door by hitting it. I figured that it was better than taking it out on anything else (especially my beautiful girls). Yeah, that was enough to finally get my attention. So, off I went. Fortunately, the doctor was very helpful and got me started on a low dosage of an antidepressant and also gave me some Ambien to help me sleep; I hadn't been sleeping well for at least six months. Within a few weeks, the clouds started to lift and the mood swings were mostly under control, with the exception of some PMS (hey, no one's perfect and it is PMS, after all LOL). Evenutually, I got off the Ambien and started sleeping on my own. I was feeling good. Months later--I'm not exactly sure when--I noticed a new side effect to the antidepressant. Weight gain, and not just a few pounds. In in the interest of the honesty I promised above, I confess that when I started the antidepressant, I was already very overweight, but I had started to lose some of it during that first doctor visit--to the tune of almost 40 pounds. I had at least 60 pounds to go, but it was a start. Instead of losing weight on my new meds, though, I was gaining. I tried not to notice at first, but when clothes don't fit anymore and you have a hard time recognizing yourself in the mirror, well--reality bites hard. Almost a year to the day of getting help for my depression, I went back to the doctor for help with my weight. We determined that the drug was at least partially responsible for the gain (to the tune of almost 70 pounds from the previous year). So, the doctor switched me to a new med--had me slowly introduce it and then raise it so I could drop the other. Here's a tip for those of you in a similar situation re: having to drop one antidepressant for another--it ain't fun. Over the past 5 days, I have been in a pereputal state of dizziness and nausea, had the dry heaves, felt like crap and am now just plum worn out. I thought it was just me thinking I was sick because of the med change, but after dry heaving into a wastebasket in my room, the thought dawned on me that perhaps this wasn't a mind over matter thing. I'm not a wuss and don't like being thought of as one. This is stubbornness on my part, I suppose. But, after almost 5 days like this, I called the doctor once again--which brings me to right now, where I'm waiting for DH to come pick me up because I can't even drive myself to the doctor. I want my life back and at this point, I don't care what I have to do to get it back. I am grateful to God that I'm not critically ill, and I have a new appreciation for people who struggle to get off certain drugs or medications. It is an ordeal that I wouldn't wish on anyone. I just hope that the doctor has an explanation. I've talked, at length, with my mom, who has been a nurse for almost 40 years. She has her theories, but I'll share those in my next post. I've written down all of my symptoms and plan on discussing this calmly and rationally with the doctor. Please, any kind thoughts you may have would help. I'll update later, after my appointment. If you've read all this, I say a heartfelt thanks. Thanks for "listening".