Cracked Head Memoirs

The end game began right around Thanksgiving 2000. Hopefully there will be an afterward, and that afterward will have a different tone than most of the rest of the story. A betting man would bet against it. Today, as I begin writing the ending, I’m relatively optimistic. I’ve done well before, albeit for brief increments of time.

One of those brighter times was the late summer and fall of 2000. I’d been taking 100 mg of Zoloft for eight or nine months at that point. The depression that had all but destroyed my life had abated completely. My sobriety had lasted more than six years and I knew I’d never drink again. For a brief time I quit taking the Zoloft, and for a few days had what I think was a full blown manic episode. Other than spending entirely too much money, however, the damage was minimal. Resuming the medication leveled me back out almost immediately. (I realize Zoloft isn’t for leveling out people’s mania. I also realize that what happened to me probably wasn’t text book mania. Nevertheless …)

Sometime late that summer my mother snapped a picture of me in my garden with my shirt off. I was shocked when she showed it to me. I knew I weighed 180 pounds and I saw myself naked in the bathroom mirror regularly. Still, I was unaware of just how bloated I’d become. I’d probably gained less than 8 pounds in the previous year, but with me there’s a fat tipping point, and the picture clearly showed that I’d reached it. (I’m 5′8″, unless I’ve started shrinking. With my frame, 160 would probably be a good weight for me.)

So I started running. (Jogging is probably the correct term.) Having never developed the modest athletic ability I was born with, having spent a good portion of the past six years in bed in the fetal position, and pushing 40 at the time, it was slow going. At first I probably didn’t run more than 100 yards or so. I’d walk most of the two, then three plus miles I trekked. My knees and ankles required at least 30 minutes of icing afterwards if I was to recover for the next day’s run. Still, I stuck with it, and at some point not-to-far in, I began to feel great! My stamina improved quickly and soon I felt better than I ever had in my life.

For what it’s worth, the runner’s high was a very real thing for me. The closest thing to it I can think of is good cocaine, minus most of the euphoria and all of the jitters. The sense of well-being and confidence I got from it was amazing. Had I been able to maintain it, I probably could have done more or less whatever I wanted in terms of work, women, or hobbies. It was almost too good to be true and of course too good to last long.

Around thanksgiving I had an abscessed tooth. $800 dollars fixed that problem. Almost immediately thereafter I began having painful problems with my sinuses, almost certainly an aftereffect of my head injury some 20 years past. Also I began to notice my back was hurting. Not too bad at first. Just an ever present, nagging sort of ache that was untraceable to anywhere more specific than my upper left back. Before the year was over I’d stopped running. I also remember having what I’ll call a premonition that I was going to die in the not-to-distant future. (I’m not really the premonition sort and don’t recall ever having had such a “feeling” before.) Obviously I didn’t die in the physical sense, but things were certainly about to take a drastic turn for the worse.

Over the course of early 2001 my sinuses afflicted me almost constantly. I had no health insurance, so I’d go to the quickie med place and they’d hook me up with antibiotics and Lortabs. That would work for a period of a couple of weeks, but then the severe headaches and annoying congestion would come back. After three of four visits the quickie medical place cut me off and referred me to an ENT. Unfortunately ENTs cost money, and I didn’t have much. I began to believe that there was something seriously wrong with my head, and for the first time in my life became quite concerned with my health, or lack thereof.

Additionally, my back got worse. Much worse over the weeks and months. For reasons lost on me now I was certain that the back pain and the headaches were related. For the most part, I ignored the back pain. I was too worried about my head to think of much else. Eventually, though, I started trying to alleviate the back pain with the Lortabs I’d been given for my head. I had quite a few left over inasmuch as I wouldn’t take them unless my head was hurting really bad. Before too long, though, I was taking them two and three at a time to try and shut off the back pain. To my amazement, the opiates didn’t make a dent in it!

I went to see an internist. I didn’t have the money or insurance for him to do tests and x-rays, but he checked me out otherwise, and while he couldn’t do anything for me physically, he did put my mind at ease. Objective and trained individual that he was, he realized immediately that my back and head problems were almost certainly two separate issues. He was also quite confident that I wasn’t especially sick. I just had an ongoing, annoying sinus problem that required an ENT. My near fainting spell was almost certainly the result of severe back pain and had nothing whatsoever to with my head, or seizures, or anything else.

By July of 2001 I’d all but quit my pizza delivery job. My boss was really cool, and would take me off the schedule at my request for weeks or months at a time, then put me right back on within a week if I asked her to. The layoffs would allow my back to get better, but it never healed and never has to this day. Needless to say, not earning money didn’t do much for my financial position. My bills piled up and you can imagine how that turned out. After a very short time back at work I’d be hurting as bad as ever. I was doing acupuncture a couple times a month, and that afforded some temporary relief. Sooner than later, however, the pain and associated frustration would win out and I’d stop working again.

Shortly after I stopped working regularly, and due to both that and the stress it caused my family life, my depression came roaring back. The shrinks at Mobile Mental Health increased my daily dosage of Zoloft to 150 mg. Shortly thereafter it I was up to 200 mg. Each time they’d boost my meds, I get a short-term boost. But in a matter of weeks I’d be right back down at rock bottom.

By 2005 I was taking a ton of psychotropic crap. That year it reached the following level:

• 200 mg Zolot
• 225 mg Effexor
• 1 mg Risperdol
• 45 mg Buspirone
• 100 mg Trazadone

To be honest, I really don’t recall a whole lot about 2003 through early 2006. I was just existing. I obsessed for hours on end over blogs I tended to delete on a whim and on learning to program. I blew up to over 200 pounds. It’s probably a blessing that I don’t recall those years too clearly.