May 31, 2012
I came out of the hospital after finding out how Sustiva could affect a person mentally, and once all the medications were corrected I started to feel better. I was so glad to be back home with my wife and children; being away was trying to me mentally. Not to mention the hospital food isn't fine dining.
During my hospital stay, I found a different doctor to see, since I wasn't comfortable where I was first directed to go. The new doctor was open to hearing ALL my concerns and thoughts, unlike the first doctor. I think the doctor had suspicion about anyone asking for pain medications, and he was very apprehensive about narcotics. I had a bad problem with my joints and I hurt all over, which he told me was partly because of the depression.
Not shying away from what I was telling him, he asked me if I truly needed the painkillers. Being I'm not one to be coy and beat around the bush, I insisted it was something I felt I needed, and when I proceeded to tell him I bought them to help ease my pain from working construction and it didn't matter if he prescribed them for me or not, I would still get them, he sent me for some nerve tests, x-rays, MRI, and any and every test known to mankind. He knew I wasn't just looking for painkillers for fun, that I indeed did have a lot of issues I hadn't tended to because of lack of medical insurance. He relented and prescribed me what I had already told him was in my blood, along with marijuana. I think it's the fact that I didn't try to con him; everywhere I had pain and was tested for was in fact the truth and I did need them.
After I started and became a bit used to the pills, I tried to return to construction and get back on track with life. That didn't last too long; my stamina just wasn't there, nor was the balance which is vital when climbing ladders and walking steel.
After realizing I can't do what I had done all my life (work every day), I fell into a deep depression. It was so bad my attitude went south. I tried to convince my wife she would be better off without me, and about a week after that I tried to end my suffering. Thank god I failed there. For me the place in my mind I was at was dark and lonely, I could find no happiness, joy, or reason to keep trying to live. I was a wreck, didn't know where I was going in life. So, to a head doc I went. Good thing, he prescribed me some antidepressants, and after about a week they were in me good enough that I started to understand I was being selfish, and inconsiderate to my wife and kids. I kept seeing this doc for about 3 months or so, and I felt good about myself and my life. That was when I knew, now I have to keep on living, if not for me, for my family.
I guess being so focused on just HIV/AIDS held my mind captive. And until I fully understood what the whole process does to a person and know how to break that way of dwelling on just that one aspect of my life, I wouldn't break the depression. But I did break it eventually.
Once I freed myself of the guilt of feeling like I was worthless and not worthy of continuing on in life, I started to feel great again. Sure, not great like no problems, but great in the sense I was in a way better frame of mind. A frame of mind where it was OK to laugh, joke around with people and just enjoy whatever happens, good or not so good. Then I knew, there was something I needed to do with the things I was learning, both from reading and from my doctor.
That's when I first came here to TheBody.com, and ...