I’ve been a patient for a long time. Next month marks 11 years with diabetes and that means a lot of regular visits to doctors of all sorts. Along with diabetes, I have celiac disease. I also have a shit ton of depression and anxiety issues.
A number of months ago I went to my doc (the regular run-of-the-mill GP) to talk about reducing and eventually coming off my anti-depressant/anxiety meds completely. The reasons for it were justified in my mind. In true Scully fashion the reasons were related to what most would consider TMI to do with sex. (Sorry mum and family, you may not want to see me in this light.) In my world, my romantic and intimate life rank high on my list of priorities. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Doctors, on the other hand, didn’t seem to see what the big deal was. They see my “condition”.
My conditions are as such; diabetes + depression & anxiety = a vicious circle which translates into a seriously messed up eating disorder. I fear food. Food gives me serious anxiety. Anxiety causes persistent nausea which makes me paranoid of food. It’s dysfunctional. I know.
The drugs I was on (and am still weaning off of), helped to ease my anxiety which broke the circle and allowed me to live more comfortably in a somewhat less dysfunctional relationship with food. However the disadvantages of the drugs had a serious effect on my sexual life. Something I wasn’t going to put up with. I went to my doc with my concerns and she didn’t really get why I was concerned. I guess doctors just don’t like sex? I’d like to tell them to go fuck themselves but well, if they don’t like sex...
They don’t see us as people, they see us as patients and problems and mathematical science equations. Since the drugs seemed to be helping the other problem well then our work is done here. Or like the world of medicine often goes, “here take this drug to offset the side effects of that drug that offsets the side effects of ….” You get it.
*wash hands of problem, cash cheque for prescribing drugs, pats self on back*
Oh wait, you’re dealing with ME.
I started reducing meds. Quickly at first which left me with debilitating anxiety. Now I count granules every night but I am suffering again. Nagging anxiety that is putting me back into the vicious circle of nausea and eating issues. I am upset and confused because I don’t know if this is permanent or if it’s just going to take forever to adjust. I was on some hefty shit man. Every day is a new day and unfortunately every day has been getting worse. It’s so easy to go back to taking the meds but I want to try living without them. I full-well know I may need the drugs for the rest of my fucking sick life. That certainly bothers me. I can’t help but crave an existence that doesn’t include health benefits so any way I can reduce my medical bills is a plus. Oh yeah and then there’s the sex. Because it matters to me!
In the end, I wish my doc would see me as more than a textbook. I hate having to do all the research and then bring it to her and try to manipulate her into believing the treatment was her idea and not mine. Otherwise I just get finger wagged and told “no”. People often suggest I change doctors but that’s a pisser of an option. Since being diagnosed with diabetes this is now my 5th GP. It’s obviously not them, it’s me!