PixelChristi

By PixelChristi

The Trouble With Magic Bullets

...at least medical ones, in my experience... is that although they can hit lots of targets at the same time, they can't just do one of them and leave the rest alone.

What I'm holding in my hand above, is a magic bullet of sorts.

It's pretty amazing really. It can:

- really help with epilepsy
- also with neuromuscular pain and weakness syndromes ( my problem )
- anxiety (an issue I have dealt with all my life but didn't really need help with)
- bipolar syndrome
- depression (I've been in the creative industries for nearly 20 years - depression is an old colleague)
- hell, it even helps amazingly well - in my experience - with IBS.

It's called Pregablin, or Lyrica.

Here's the thing though. I only need it to control pain, which it does, very well. The rest of that stuff, I don't need. In fact, I've found that because my magic bullet hits all those targets, I've stopped functioning as a creative, fine art photography practitioner; a working tog; a reasonably sociable person. All of that and more, has gone.

I went through a similar issue this time last year on a similar ( but less magic, more bullet) pain med, and switched to this drug in the hope that it would still help, but might allow me to retain some sharpness. I was struggling for the right word, unable to summon that Photographer's Eye that we all speak of. I guess that's why my blip diary is a comparative desert.

I wasn't myself. Not really...me. But the doc said that was the cheap sledgehammer and this was the expensive scalpel, so I tried it.

It worked, for quite a while. It really did. The switch did make me sharper, and for months I was hopeful that I could function at least close to the level I'd been at before treatment. I could certainly move better when I wanted to. I could socialise when I wanted to. I could find the right words... when I wanted. The trouble is, I realised over xmas, that I didn't want to anymore. I don't pick up my (new) kit any more; I rarely go for coffees with friends; I don't really leave the house. I've put on 4 stones in weight in the last year. And that, my friends, is not like me at all.

Not me.

I've worked it out though. It's the magic bullet nature of the med that really is it's downfall in my case. Creatively - I /need/ anxiety and I /need/ depression. These things exist in me in a way that drives me to make things. Without anxiety ( mostly about if I'm good enough ) I don't work; without depression (mostly because I realise I really am not good enough) I never need to lose myself in the process and concept; and without the slightly manic release from depression, I never feel good about my work. At which point I become anxious again and off we go…

It turns out, that I need that emotional sine wave to function as a photographer. The magic bullet, whilst giving me more movement ( although, *you* put 4 stones in weight on and tell me how much better your movement is ), flattens out the rollercoaster and leaves you flat too. The best word, I think, is "disconnected". I feel like entropy incarnate. There are - now old and lingering - promises yet to be kept ( Jason - I will get going on that site ;) ); emails unanswered that will now be difficult to respond to; and a long list of partially remembered ideas that never went anywhere. The ideas still came, you see; it's just the disconnect between thinking and making - the desire - that went away.

SO.

I have a choice. Fold the business - it's been in mothballs for two years anyway; give up the fine art work; remain a hermit and just play games all day but not be in that much pain. OR ditch the magic bullet, embrace the pain and try and get back on my creative bike and make some work. Embrace the anxiety, the stress and the depression as a necessary part of the process and see if I can handle it all.

It's not a no-brainer. Stopping the drug too fast is potentially dangerous. All those processes that the drug controlled; well they take time to come back under your own body's control. There's more risk of severe depression and anxiety in the tapering off period; there's more pain than you might otherwise feel too, as the pain control mechanisms take a while to kick in. So the taper has to be slow, methodical and well thought out all the way through.

I've obviously decided to do it. I want ME back. I was in a great deal of pain before the meds, yet managed to finish, mount and get funding for an exhibition. It's telling that the two years of treatment I've had, have seen my pain levels decrease a bit, but my productivity and creativity completely dry up.

Don't get me wrong. It's not been hell, I've had less pain. Less pain is good. I've played lots of games and I LOVE games. But I have to choose who I want to be for the foreseeable future, and I don't like the pain free, creativity free, option. If I hadn't been creative all my adult life, I might be thinking differently. I may even change my mind if the pain is too much. I hope not though.

I started on Thursday, just a slightly smaller dose at night and the normal dose in the morning. This Thursday I'll decrease the morning dose and see how I go for a week after that. If things go well, It'll be over in just over 12 weeks. Already I'm noticing a difference. There are pros and cons. My sleep pattern is messed up, but I'm feeling more alert. I'm waking up more easily. Last weekend I slept until I was dragged out of bed .This week I woke up at 9 without an alarm. That's progress. Pain levels are up a bit though, and my muscles are being more unruly. They twitch, they cramp. Even my pinky toe cramps up on its own… what's that about? I seem to be eating less.

This post is progress too. I simply wouldn't have done it last week. It might be that even slightly lifting the lid off my creative pressure cooker was enough to let this wordbabble out. A friend convinced me to make a diary of my tapering/withdrawal period. I think this'll be the first post of that diary. I'll use the tag #pxctaper for ease of following. Maybe it'll help someone.


If you got this far, thanks for reading my ramble…

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