The long story short is: I am having an allergic reaction to Lamictal and I may have early signs of SJS. The rash isn’t a symptom of SJS because it’s itchy, but my mouth ulcers are. SJS is a really nice acronym for a skin condition where the rash bubbles up and your skin falls off, which means the months I’ve put into yoga’ing and hiking this ass could slough off in an ER room or something.
I would have the rare side effect of the first medication that was helping me. I’m trying to generally make fun of how pleasant I will be on as I am ‘roiding, and the inevitable bright red shiny face.
I am feeling more like myself than I have in the better part of a decade. I feel as though all the puzzle pieces are fitting. All day I was starting to freak out about what happens next. Naturally, I wandered around town misshapen and braless with an afro that would make a good pick blush, and I got over my literal and metaphorical butthurt.
I have to stop taking the Lamictal because my skin is just as important as my brain. I gotta take steroids for over 2 weeks, I’m going to start lifting weights so I can bulk up, and I’m going to start drinking raw eggs for breakfast. My doctor said we’re not doing anything about other meds ’til this clears up. He said he has other medications in mind, so it is back to the drawing board, new med and all of these fun things.
I’m frustrated. This is the 11th med, and I’m running out of __ time’s a charm jokes. I’ve been asked so many times what do I want most from treatment. I always said stability, less depression, things like that. Tonight, I realized the reason I’m so upset is I started cracking jokes again. I spent a good hour in the car with my friend today and in all of this bullshit, I laughed. I don’t want to stop laughing anymore. Before everything “went bad” years ago, even if I was depressed, no ESPECIALLY when I was depressed, I would laugh and joke.
Unlike the apparent public image, most people with depression don’t lie around in piles of their own filth. They may wander around secretly hiding and ashamed of their own filth with a pasted on smile making sure everyone else is great (like their afro.) At least, that’s my experience. Everything I’ve taken has robbed me of that. Maybe it’s stupid, maybe I’m being superficial, but I if I took a med and it randomly made my skin fall off, people would say that’s not good. I would write eloquent, yet sternly worded letters to the manufacturer. I feel similarly about broken funny bones.
So, that is actually an amazing positive outcome in this. I’m so upset, I am telling you I was telling every human I interacted with how great I was doing. I’m ordering a half pound of Genoa salami and telling the dude slicing my meat about it. Lamictal was giving the help I needed. Giving me the baseline. The level ground to build, I can do yoga, when I do yoga I eat better, the snowball effect. That’s the word – baseline. I’ve wanted to feel like me, and I’ve said for so long, I DO NOT EVEN REMEMBER WHAT IT FEELS LIKE. I felt it with Lamictal, so I know I’ll get it again. This setback is stinging like the onions I clearly started cutting in this post. At least I can put into words exactly what I’ve been trying to find because I found it.
It’s going to get better, even if right now it’s very itchy and possibly hairy in awkward places.