Cymbalta Withdrawal is the B Word.

Wow. The things they do not tell you.

Take this, they say. It will improve your life! And maybe it does for a time before your body gets used to it and you end up with only the side effects and not the benefits. What then?

If you watch television at all, you've no doubt seen the commercials for Cymbalta, one of the wonder drugs of the 21st century. Their tag line: "Depression hurts." As does Fibromyalgia, one of the uses for Cymbalta. Quite honestly, I've dealt with depression over the years, so when I got clocked upside the head with Fibro it did cause some pretty depressed feelings. Chronic pain can drag you down no matter how Pollyanna you want to be.

Apparently, Cymbalta works with the central nervous system to reduce the pain of Fibromyalgia. My doctor and I decided to try it out. And soon I actually felt a difference, a lowered perception of pain at least. One thing about a person who hurts 24/7 is that they're willing to try most anything, (as I realized about myself during the "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" Fentanyl era) with little thought to the aftermath. Common to most of the people I attended Pain Management class with, I would like something to just take the pain away! But we don't always go in with enough information to be clear on what the medication might take away along with the pain. Sometimes we lose more than we gain--like the ability to feel life or deeply enjoy things--and the withdrawals can be a b****!

Today, for example, I see that people from Georgia, Virginia, Texas, and Brussels Hoofdstedelijk Gewest (I couldn't tell you where that last one is, let alone pronounce it) have visited my post on "FENTANYL: the Withdrawal Experiment."  How many of the people who've started out innocently and trustingly enough on a plan to reduce their pain levels have found they are now in the pit as they try to pull back out of the pain medication fog? And I'm by no means saying we didn't NEED the help or even benefit from the medication, but boy howdy, we need help getting off!

Common withdrawal symptoms from Cymbalta that I've read on message boards online etc:

• headaches
• intestinal upsets, bloating
• brain zaps (electrical feeling/sounding jolts that go through your brain and body)
• dizziness
• nausea/vomiting
• "irritability"

And that's just to name the main few. I put irritability in quotes, because would you call Jack the Ripper "just a guy with poor social skills"?

What I personally experienced:

• loss of words (it's taken me weeks to write this post)
• PAIN and muscle fatigue
• brain zaps
• intestinal upsets
• minor dizziness
• DON'T LOOK AT ME WITH THAT TONE!!
• Oh, really? You don't like what I made for dinner? WELL YOU CAN JUST BLEEPING BUY A NEW SLAVE!! *sob*
• Um, "irritability."

I'm now 5 weeks off the Cymbalta. Still experiencing extra pain and muscle fatigue. Brain zaps are gone. I followed advice from Cymbalta withdrawal online boards (such as cymbaltawithdrawal.com and depressionforums) to take extra Omega 3s and drink lots of chamomile tea, and within 3 days the brain zaps were over. The extra dizziness is gone. The words are coming back and I can actually string a few together now to make a complete sentence. The intestinal upsets resolved within the first 2 weeks.

While it has improved, I'm still working on the irritability. Has my true self merely come forward and I am really an impatient, screaming lunatic? I really really hope not. As does my family.

Picture of me withdrawing from Cymbalta.

No, not standing above, the one at the bottom.



Skimmer's Recap: Cymbalta withdrawals are not for the weak. Or for our families.

Why i will never be Teacher's Pet.

Yesterday after a lovely weekend, i walked into pain class, the Room of Positivity. i saw the tripod and camera set up to video our weekly progress to be shown at the Friday friends and family meeting. Immediately i did what i normally do when faced with a camera: "oh no! Taping!"

"We don't say that--" the nurse said sweetly in a passing comment sort of way.

Damn! "Right--too negative--" i said, trying to step out of my pile of verbal chewing gum on the floor, trying to think how to move on. Of course, i do this by continuing to talk (poor choice.)

As we start pulling our chairs into a circle for the morning meditation, i say, "Looks like we're missing a couple of people."

"That's focusing on group-care, rather than self-care. We're trying to learn to focus on ourselves in this class--" the nurse points out.

"Oh, really? Didn't realize that," i said. Damn! Again!

Somehow within the first 4 minutes of the Monday morning class, i had stepped from the pile of verbal gum only to stumble into the larger pile of elephant poo behind me.

i always intend to remain quiet after those moments, but i never seem to be able to. i mean, i cannot possibly be asked to live in silence for 4 whole hours, but i can't stay out of the quagmire for 4 minutes.

And then, come Tuesday. We have three newbies. One is a very fit looking woman in stylish Victoria Secret yoga pants and an adorable short sweatshirt with a pink dotted lining in the hood over a casually stylish long tank. i look down at my hugely oversized gray sweatshirt and Walmart sweats. The second is a woman of indeterminant age in a pink high necked sweater and pink pants, who seems determined to meet nobody's eyes, seemingly wishing the rest of us were not there. She wears some jingly something on her wrist or somewhere, adding an annoying punctuation to all her moves (even during meditation. Why does she need to move so much during meditation??) It was bad enough for one day, i'm seriously hoping she loses it on whatever deserted island she wishes she were on.

The third is a mid-twenties guy who was totally pleasant and friendly, wearing an Umbrella Corporation t-shirt. For those of you without video game crazy 20 year old sons, that's the symbol used in the Resident Evil games and movies. At lunch i mentioned to him that my son would be tearing it off his back if he were there. When one of the nurses asked what it was about and we answered, she said, "You'll have to leave that word out, we can't use that word--" Evil. She was talking about the word evil. Okay then.

These are some of the things that baffle me. Stuff like my "oopsies" yesterday--we clap for ourselves as a class when we do some things, we clap for the graduating class students. And yet observing we are missing some of those members is a negative thing. And "evil" as a word is apparently banned. So, if a word can carry a negative connotation it is not allowed, we will have to develop some sort of code when discussing movies we've seen etc. i think i shall start a list of words that could be questionable, and start working them into positive comments, just to use at lunch and test the waters. Possibly i will stay awake better.

It looks like i am being somewhat negative about a class that is overall a positive experience. There are good things, a lot of them. i am being much too analytical, and unwilling to simply accept the edicts from above. i want to understand them, or even better, i want them to make sense.

i'll work on writing something more positive tomorrow. "Why i WILL be a winning student!" or some such thing. But tomorrow. Tonight my thinker is too tired, and terribly disappointed about the whole Teacher's Pet thing.

Three Things Thursday.

i'm so excited! i actually have a totally alliterative title!

Thing #1 (wow, saying that just took me back to Dr Suess--which story is "Thing #1 and Thing #2" in? You know, with all the balancing fish bowls and dishes and such?) is, Yup, it happened. i subscribe to my own blog on Blogarithm, and sure enough, i got aaaaaaalll those posts i fixed the tags on from them. So now i know i was right to apologize. Abjectly.

Thing #2 is, THE GOOD NURSE CALLED ME BACK from the pain clinic (or, "the pain in the a** clinic, as my friend Julie dubbed it.) I'm referring back to my recent post of "Would somebody please send that nurse to charm school?" about my less than lovely dealings with The Bad Nurse. You should have heard me on the phone with her--i was actually with Adina at the time, so she did and can back me up, i was pathetic--gushing, "OH!! Anya! i'm soooo glad to hear your voice!!"

She had called to ask whether or not i'd received an answer to my last message. i had not. Hadn't felt like risking the chance that Nurse No Charm might answer when i called to say, "helloooo--you never called me back?" So i was thrilled, i was ecstatic, i was hugging myself with joy. "No, i never really got an answer back." So i told her where we were last, with me asking The Other nurse to check with Dr God about non-opiate pain meds. Anya read through my messages and said, "Oh, it says here that the doctor says 'there are no non-opiate meds for fibromyalgia, in spite of what the drug companies are advertising.'" i said, "Oh, i guess i should check again on the house phone and see if i missed a message--" to which she replied, "No, you clearly never got that message." "Oh. Well, it wasn't the most, uh, friendly experience with those calls," i said. She said a startled sounding "OH!" and giggled.

i asked her, "So, the doctor wanted me to try Fentanyl patches? Did you see the recent recall of those?" Apparently a bunch of them were sold with a cut on the edge, meaning the medication dumped out all at once on the patient, overdosing and, yes, killing them. She had. Apparently this isn't an issue for the nurses and Dr God. Hmm.

Regarding stuff like Lyrica, the medication currently being advertised for the relief of fibromyalgia pain, the down-low on that at the I'm in Chronic Pain clinic is that only the drug company themself has tested it, and the doctor won't prescribe anything until it has been tested properly by people not standing to make a fortune. Okay, i get that. (Yet he will prescribe something that has recently killed people. Not sure about that particular line he's drawn.) i mean, i understand that's what has happened with many miraculous drugs, they're great for weight loss, but, oh by the way, your heart may stop. Your liver may become a briquet. Suddenly they're being removed from the market. So, sure, i'm good with the "careful" policy.

Thing #3: Uh, i didn't really have one, but i was so happy-jazzed about the title, so, um, Hey! Did you hear the Nice Nurse called me back? Cool, huh?

6 word memoir meme.

Main Entry: meme
Pronunciation: \ˈmēm\
Function: noun
Etymology: alteration of mimeme, from mim- (as in mimesis) + -eme
Date: 1976
: an idea, behavior, style, or usage that spreads from person to person within a culture

i'd seen the word, wasn't sure what it meant. So i looked it up on good ol' Mirriam-Webster online. Now, this can only be a good word, as it began back when my hips were small and i was a lovely young bride.

This i bring up because i followed the blog-stream from Bookbabie's comment on my One good thing about the flu post. i waded from my post to her blog, and found this:

"As I read yet another book review of a memoir this weekend, my husband told me that I should write one. I said that my story would be much too short and rather boring so when I ran across the following book I decided it was just my speed. A six word memoir! Written by Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser, Not Quite What I was Expecting: Six Word Memoirs by Famous and Obscure is a compilation based on the story that Hemingway once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in six words. His words were- For Sale: baby shoes, never worn. There’s a video on Amazon with examples from the book, it sounds like a fun read! I’d like to start a six word memoir meme and here are the rules:

1. Write your own six word memoir
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere
4 .Tag five more blogs with links
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!
It was actually a lot more difficult that I thought it would be, but here’s mine…

This too shall pass, I hope."

i continued down stream from there to visit the people she had tagged, so i could read their 6 word memoir memes. You can learn a lot about a person from 6 words!

-Lisamm at Books on the Brain came up with some rejects that made me laugh out loud, like:
Where the hell are my keys? and Stop crying and do your homework!

before she settled on this:
Searching for happiness in ordinary moments.

Sperlygirl (who looks like a very fun lady) came up with:
breathe in, breathe out... LET GO!

Fighting Windmills came up with this:
Just six? Can’t I have seven?

Wholeclothdesigns (she has a really cool ETSY store) said,
She likes forts, I still do.

i'd encourage you to click on their links, most had a photo to accompany the meme.

Anyway, i only stumbled in the blog stream a couple of times, which is pretty good for me, before i came back home and started thinking. My dog, Morris, helped me out in my endeavors by deciding he needed to go out at 5 am, even though he'd already gotten my hubby up at 3:50 am for the same trip. After 5 i couldn't get back to sleep, so the wheels started (rustily) turning in my brain.

i came up with ones about the state of my body:
Shouldn't i be thin? Guess not. And, Gray at 50? I'M NOT READY!

Then the state of my mind, with it's companion of fibromyalgia:
My brain's awake, my body's not.

i got philosophical:
My life is not an interruption. and, Live mercy, your soul's best friend.

Now, those were pretty good, i thought, but the first thought i had was the one that stuck with me, and tells my story best:


Can i be a cynical optimist?

i've always had the Pollyanna thing going: Look for the best in things!! But at the same time, i'm giving life the stink-eye, having learned that everybody does not want to play nicely. I'm a regular dichotomy, really.

SO: allow me to tag you: Tersie at The Road to Total Growth-Body Mind and Spirit, Jo at Bits and Pieces, new blog-friend Hinsley at The Oxygen Chronicles, and Betina at B-Happy, and Jen at These pretty things. If you'd like to play, remember to link back here and all that stuff in the fine print. ;-)

Calling it what it is.

This sign startles me every time i see it here in England-- "TOILET." No "RESTROOM" here. i mean, how much resting really goes on in those places? Personally when i enter a public restroom, my goal is to leave as quickly as i am able, what with the general ambient scent of those places. Here, they call it like they see it: Do you need to use a toilet? Look for the sign, because it will state there is a toilet behind this door. If in a restaurant and struck with a need, one asks for the "loo" or the "toilet." Ask where the bathroom is, or the restroom, and you will get a puzzled look. Let's call it what it is, a toilet.

And how many of us have had a "shot" or an "injection"? Not that the word "shot" sounds all that pleasant, but isn't a "jab" more realistic? "Now you'll feel a tiny pinch," they say. "This might sting a little," they say. Often they say, "You won't even feel this." They lie. It's a JAB. Call it what it is.

Both these signs were spotted in Jon's offices where he is a General Practitioner. Gotta love these guys, they not only have cool accents, they call it what it is.

The properly English language.

Here under the beautiful gray skies of Somerset County, England, "English" is not "English" as we in the States learned it in Miss McCall's high school English class.

Tersie at The Road to Total Growth--Body Mind and Spirit spoke about Words the other day. So, being here in The Land of True English, i've been noticing some of the different words these Englishmen (and women) use.

For instance:

Courgettes: We had these in our stew. It's apparently the French word for the squash we at home call zucchini. It's pronounced with the "g" sounding rather like the Z in ZaZa Gabor, or the "j" in au ju. Now, i think "zucchini" is a pretty cool word all on its own, but how much cooler is "courgettes"? "Dahling, pahss the courgettes..."

Porridge: Here in the land of queens and princes, they do not eat oatmeal, they eat "porridge," or "porridge oats." You know, like the old "pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot, nine days old," but that one is porridge made of peas cooked in milk. For some silly reason, "porridge" brought up visions of Oliver Twist to me, small children in poorhouses and such. But perhaps i confuse "porridge" and "gruel." i had the above pictured porridge this morning, and it was quite good!

Orientated: Here in England, a person does not get oriented to the new time schedule, he gets "orientated." Here it takes me a good week to get "orientated" to being awake when at home i would be asleep! But then, even when i'm at home i have a hard time being awake when i should be.

Wonky: "Mummy, the leg on this stool is a bit wonky," Elias said. i love that word! i had heard it on British home decorating shows, and i admit to having used it occasionally myself. It rolls off the tongue, say it with me, "Wonky." See?

Swede: At home we call these rutabagas. i have yet to taste one under either name, but Elias and i had a good game of "roll the swede" at the kitchen table yesterday. It's a very resilient vegetable. Oh, that's another thing--

Veg: When at home i sit and watch an old movie and drink a cup of hot chocolate, i would say that i'm going to "veg" a while, but i eat "vegetables." Here in England, you eat your "veg," (rhymes with "hedge") of which the above-mentioned "swede" and "courgettes" are a part.

Also there's the spelling--in the States we use the letter "z" in words like "organize" and "pressurize" but in England, an "s" takes the place of the "z," as in "organise." Oh, and "pressurised" is not necessarily a word for a spray can under pressure, it's also a state of being: "I'm feel pressurised," where we would say "I'm feeling pressured."

Pulse: A "pulse" isn't just something you feel to see if you're going to pass out after exercising, it's a common word for things like lentils, thus, there is a food category of "beans and pulse."

And who doesn't love the pronunciation? Two year olds and four year olds who say, "cah-stle" and "I cah-n't" with the "aw" sound instead of the boring American "a" of "cat," and who call for their "mum."

But saving my favorite for last:

Torch: i hear the word "torch" and think Frankenstein (or my favorite, Gene Wilder and Young Frankenstein) and the crowd of villagers storming the castle with big flaming torches, intent on killing Frankenstein's monster. In my mind, a child with a torch sounds like a recipe for disaster, here, it's a flashlight, as in, "it's dark outside, do you want to take a torch?"

Words are definitely fun!

Nearly off!

So, in a couple of days i'll be off to visit the pregnant daughter in England, along with her properly Brit husband and adorably Brit boys. Will baby number three be another boy? Will it surprise us all and be a girl? Only time and a cesarean will tell...

i am sneaking in some little pink clothing, just in case--it's been killing me not to be able to pre-shop here where i can afford things (the exchange rate is the worst it's been in years and years--a British pound is worth over two dollars now!!) If i look at a price in a store there and think, "Oh, 3 pounds, that's not too bad--" i have to remind myself that 3 pounds means 6+ of my American dollars.

And that's only one of the things i need to adjust to there--the other is the fact that it's 8 hours ahead there, so when it's a lovely afternoon in California, it's time for bed in England.

And then they do that thing where their degrees are different--Celsius rather than Fahrenheit. This means that when you set the washing machine wash temperature, you should take that into consideration, or you end up shrinking wool sweaters. Don't ask how i know.

But in that backword time world with funny degrees and worthless dollars, i'll get to see my American girl with the accent, and hear those two cute blond boys call her "Mummy" in that perfectly English way, and hear about the things in their daddy's work day that made him "exceedingly cross." And it will be worth the journey!