Out With the Old, In With the...Wellbutrin

[Damn. That title would have worked so much better if only my new prescription had been for Neurontin.]

Last Thursday. Annual physical with semi-new doctor. (I've seen her once or twice before, and 'know' her from my previous job in PR on campus.) I tell her my depression is back, and that it's, well, depressing me. She decides to switch me from celexa (which did its job well, if not superlatively, over the past however-many months I've taken it) to wellbutrin. She decides to do it immediately. Cold turkey on the celexa, right onto the wellbutrin.

Easy for her to say.

"I'm a little concerned about doing this to you while you're depressed, since the celexa will be out of your system in a couple of days, and it may take the wellbutrin a few weeks to really start working," she muses after loading me up with two-months'worth of samples. (God love the drug reps on university campuses.)

"Eh," I say, unconcerned. "The depression is bothersome, but it is what it is. If it gets worse for a few days, I'll power through."

And I did. Thursday night I took my wellbutrin instead of my celexa. Friday night, same story. All was hunky. And dory. Saturday, I noticed I was getting a little edgy, but that's a classic depression symptom for me, so I took it in stride.

Then, on Sunday, I had my little encounter with my self-gratifying friend. And all hell broke loose.

I've spent the past three days grappling with seemingly unending panic attacks, fending off nausea and headaches (either from the celexa withdrawal or the wellbutrin ramp-up; who knows?), and screaming at my kids at...I'd say at the drop of a hat, but it doesn't even take that much. When I'm not doing that, I'm trying to push my way back up to the surface through a xanax-induced haze; it keeps me from freaking out, but it also makes me a zombie. A very, very, very slow zombie. Who is also kind of stupid. Or maybe a lot stupid. But so slow, it takes her a while to realize how stupid she is. So that helps.

I feel better today, though. Not a lot, but a little. But, tomorrow I'm supposed to email my doctor with a one-week report on how I'm doing with the switchover, and I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say to her. I mean, this is pretty much SOP with psychopharmaceuticals; none of this is a suprise, though I could have done without the addition of the panic attacks after Sunday's episode. But when I think about it, I guess I'm doing as well as could be expected, if your expectations are really, really, really low. Hey! That's what I'll tell her!

So much for powering through. Maybe I'll just set mt sights on getting through. Today, at least, it feels like that just might be doable.