Better living through pharmaceuticals

Four days of wellbutrin and I feel almost…well. Probably the placebo effect and my increasing ability to process events around me as being outside my control and thus not worth fretting about too much after a certain point. When your life is filled with largely uncontrollable situations, you get pretty good at identifying and accepting the uncontrollable.

Oh, and a few nights of good sleep may have helped.

I have to watch that I don’t become a proselytizing asshole on antidepressants. They work really well for me and make everything so much more tolerable and it becomes easy to think they are the answer for everyone. Not so, but dear lord, do they work for me. I think I might marry antidepressants if it was legal. They help me have the perspective I lack when things are bad and I’m not taking them. Today I was talking with my roommate Adam about the tendency to break things down in smaller parts in an attempt to better understand and manage the big stuff, but how that can backfire because then you’re not seeing the overall picture. It can help in the short-term, but that’s about it. I feel like antidepressants give me the ability to zoom in and out; they provide a panoramic view. Or maybe I’m just in the lust stage of our relationship (we keep breaking up and getting back together). Whatever it is, I feel great.

I am cutting all my hair off on Saturday. Rather, I am having Jessica cut all my hair off on Saturday. It’ll help save me from clogging every drain in the house, or from ending up with hideous dreadlocks hanging from my scalp like dead rats. Stupid vanity. Why must hair be so important (to me)? Actually, it’s not. If it was, I’d get one of those ice caps you wear during chemo, but frankly I’d rather lose all my hair than have my head numbed by ice for seven to eight hours every three weeks.

I have an almost perverse sense of glee that I’m starting chemo in six sleeps. In my mind (and this is not necessarily an unrealistic thought), once I complete this cycle of treatments I may never have to do this again. Long remissions are good indicators of additional long remissions. The sooner I get this started, the sooner it is finished. And then I can not think about it for years probably (touch wood).


About Alicia Louise

I'm a writer, editor, fact checker, storyteller, events organizer, chronically busy yet endlessly lazy, mildly neurotic (though I keep the neuroses well-hidden, one hopes) 32-year-old with recurrent ovarian cancer. I like people and good writing and straight talk. I have a hard time feeling sorry for people, including myself, but the people that I love, I love passionately; one may even say creepily. I try to keep that mostly to myself. I'd like to be charming, but I'm usually just a mess. I'm like a gull slamming into your windshield.
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