I’ve suffered from mental illness (of the depressive variety) to varying degrees for much of my life. For the longest time I just plodded on and stubbornly refused medical assistance in dealing with it because, well, I’ve got a head on me like a bull and I’m ornery as all fuck. Several years back I decided the whole stiff-upper-lip thing wasn’t working for me and I sought help of the chemical variety.
The results were positive, but they did have their drawbacks. My moods improved (or at least, levelled off) at the expense of my creativity, drive, and general brainpower. These side effects were taken for granted – I knew I’d be affected in these areas. There were other serious side effects of the physical variety that I was warned against but were so rare that I didn’t worry too much about them. I rolled the dice.
Weeeeell, I may have come across one of those side effects. One of the drugs I was on had as a side effect a very serious rash that could turn fatal in a very gruesome way. Earlier this week such a rash began appearing over my body. Now, make no mistake about it, I’m as paranoid as I am stubborn. As soon as it began appearing I hit the hospital without delay. The doctor couldn’t definitively say it was the reaction I was on guard for but I was taken off my medication as a precaution. I had forgotten to take the medication in question for several days leading up to the rash so it’s been about a week now since I’ve last had them and I feel…
Well, mostly okay. The rash has me absolutely terrified but other than that (hah!) I feel pretty damn positive. My head is clearer, I feel my creativity coming back, and I’m starting to look at my life with a lot more scrutiny and interest than I’ve managed to muster in a very long time.
For now I’m content with just taking it easy and seeing this side effect in my rearview window. I’m able to dream and make plans for my future again and I’d like to do that with skin intact.