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Summer is good for depressive illness

July 12, 2018

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July 12, 2018

Nearly 2 months without a post, corresponding with the change in my psychiatric medication—antidepressant—just two months ago.  At that time my psychiatrist, Dr. Stiles, reduced my bupropion dose in half, an amount I continued for 4 weeks, then discontinued altogether.  Surprise.  My world has become only slightly better without the bupropion that I had been taking for perhaps 5 years.  

Oh yes, I’m still taking an antidepressant,  venlafaxine.  (I don’t want to give the impression that I’m fiddling with my own meds for my disorder, major depression, potentially lethal.)

Most of my friends know I’m a retired pharmacist who used to be a board-certified pharmacotherapist.  As such, I know the importance of placing important therapy decisions in the hands of a qualified practitioner, much as an athlete relies on a coach to dictate a regimen of exercise.

Gratifying to me that I feel somewhat better now that one of my meds has been discontinued.  I did not expect it.  Dr. Stiles asked me to promise I’d phone his office if things got worse.  Luckily things have gotten better both in terms of life events and in terms of mood.

Probably helped that our tall blonde daughter brought her three children and dog from San Diego (Poway, actually) for a visit.  How we camped!  We hiked!  Ate Top Ramen and canned chili.  The children, ages 12,11, and 9, only fought a couple times, usually about a toy.  We have multiple mosquito bites, or at least I do, and I love to scratch them.  That’s why I have multiple scabs and sores.  The dog, part spaniel and part poodle, developed sore feet from either cactus or cheat grass, so we took him to Dr. Kilzer, my favorite veterinarian.  That’s how the last week went, and now I am tuckered.

Gunther seems to hardly know me after the storm of guests, so I gave him a treat and walked him.   The trees overhanging the sidewalk brush my face and I vow to bring a tool to clip.  Nearly 90 degrees today.  G. did a splendid poop, so I know he’s okay.

We have no household air conditioner, so we rely on closing the house up during the hot periods and opening during the cool nights.  Numerous fans drone.  Gunther sleeps under a table.  P. is watching a Midsomer Murder on her laptop.  The fridge has hard boiled eggs.

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