Perhaps Squirt hasn't been back, but I am going to spill her beans. She is not withdrawing from Narcotics. She has been through almost (I think) 2 months of unrelenting hell because of an antidepressant that goes by the inconspcicuous name of Effexor. The reality of it is, is that it effex (or) (play on words intended) horrific when one decides that they want to stop taking it. Run "effexor withdrawl" through google, and you simply WILL NOT believe your eyes. Not only are people experiencing months of withdrawl symptoms after carefully titrating their dose to try and prevent these symptoms, the medical community as a whole has refused to admit that there is any such thing as "Effexor withdrawl". Ask the tens of thousands (seemingly) of people that have posted their experiences if it is real, and they will quickly tell you that every MD that doesn't believe it should try taking it, then "weaning" themselves off, then come back and tell us what they think. I am so vocal about this because Squirt is one of my favorite people in the Universe, and my own husband (one of my other favorite people in the Universe) was prescribed this horrid medication some two years ago. About a year ago, he started to notice that if he didn't take his Effexor at EXACTLY 24 hour intervals, he experienced what most people that are or have withdrawn from this medication as "brain shivers". These things range from electrical like sensations in their head to feeling like their brain takes a few seconds to catch up when they turn their head. THAT'S just from taking it at 11am instead of 9am! Most people have to split their capsules up and actually count out little beads of this Horror to come off of it, and yet, like Squirt, they are still subjected to, what sounds to me, like something that is even more horrifying than Narcotic withdrawl. I would love for my husband to be able to get off of this now, but our situation right now isn't exactly the right time for him to go through that kind of thing.
So, now that I have climbed off of my soapbox regarding Effexor, I would like to say a few things, on topic, about the fact that so many of us are sick. Like Squirt said, we have talked about this many, many times, and I have an opinion on it. For what it's worth, I think that perhaps we are drawn to popping of all kinds on a sub-conscious level, perhaps hoping that what ails us could somehow be quickly squeezed out, packed for a couple of days, then forgotten, other than a good video or some good scar stories. If only I could put my Fibromyalgia and Chron's into a little boil, and feel the sweet release of knowing that it might only take some good squeezing and perhaps an antibiotic to be rid of either one, I would be the first one to sign up for that program. Perhaps I am full of crap, but I don't know, at 1:11am of another night in insomnia-ville, it sounds good to me. By tomorrow, when I crash and burn from being so busy today, I may feel differently, but I've been pondering this for some time. I recently read a post by profderien, and thought man, if this woman could just pop out her illnesses, she sure as shit would!
I know that for me, when my doctor put both of his hands on my knees and looked me directly in the eyes and spoke more seriously than I had ever seen him before, and said, "Tiffani, you need to except the fact that you will most likely spend the rest of your life on narcotic pain meds., you need to come to terms with it", I went home and threw myself into bed for two days. Okay, okay, I'm going to be blasted by all of the health nuts that have managed to "overcome", but please, save it. I wouldn't wish an hour of walking in my shoes on ANYONE. That includes the witch next door that KNOWS that I am super sensitive to sound, and has continued to let her dog bark for 22 hours a day (he sleeps once in a while) for the last year. The same woman who let her dog chase my 7 year old down our court, screaming for her life, and when my husband snatched her up, just as the dog (Sodierboy) got to her, and only managed to scratch her leg from the back of her knee down, came into my garage and started telling ME off, then proceeded to attept to scratch my eyes out from behind as I turned my back on her to check on my child, leaving a horrid infection from her rotting, filthy nails. Medusa, we call her. (btw, she left that nite with a few less gnarly extensions, oopsie!) So when morphine calls my name, I answer with a resounding, "here I come".
I had the pleasure of speaking to both Squirt and MomE today, and while neither are doing fabulous, they will survive. Very strong women, those two. I feel blessed to be called their friend.
So, back to the topic, what do you all think of my backseat psycho-analysis of why so many seriously ill people are so drawn to this site? I have one more theory, it's a bit more off the wall, and kind of a joke, but in the category of government cover-ups. I think we all might be being slowly poisoned to death by Big Brother! lol! No seriously, no just kidding, no seriously, just kidding...............
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