Thank you!

Thank you for your emails and comments while I was dealing with my most recent bout of mental illness. It’s a bummer that so many of you deal with the same shit (or love someone who does) but a huge solace that I’m not alone in my struggles. Again: thank you. You are my favorite. Yes, you! Don’t tell the others.

I’ve reached some measure of emotional equilibrium, thanks to returning to the very medication I was trying to get away from. The reason I had gone off of it was that it rendered me incapable of any human (or animal, I guess) emotions. I could only dimly register that I should be feeling something, whether positive (“what this would normally elicit is probably… joy?”) or negative (“my eyeballs feel a little damper then they should, which is a sign that right now I would be … cry-ing, do you call it?”). It was suboptimal. But I had been on kind of a high dose, so my doctor simply put me on a lower one, one that wouldn’t turn me into a robot.

So far this tactic seems to have worked. It was actually my idea — his was to put me on a new medication that wouldn’t be covered by insurance and would cost $1300 a month. But at least he went along with my idea? Listen, it’s hard to find good help out there. You take what you can get. The important part is that I feel better. Yay.

As a thank you for standing by me, I will not be telling you all about the colonoscopy I had on Monday. You’re welcome. Wait, I lied, I will say a couple of things: First of all, whose idea was it to offer warmed blankets while you’re waiting for a procedure? This person should be awarded all the medals. The best! You’re all cold and shivery and nervous and a nurse comes in and tucks a warm blanket around you? Is this business class? What have I done to deserve such luxury?

Secondly, I do feel a little bit cheated out of the drug experience. Everyone told me you get the best sedation ever, which it undoubtedly is, only I didn’t experience a moment of feeling like I was on good drugs. I was wheeled into the OR, the anesthesiologist said I might feel my ears ringing, I blinked and then I was in recovery. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s far and away preferable to being awake during the procedure, but I just wanted a moment of outer space, you know? I just wanted a doctor-approved high. I don’t get many thrills in life! Except, naturally, the thrill of a healthy colon. And isn’t that the greatest thrill of all? (I’m quite old.)