I asked for help today.

I asked for help today. As hard as it was to pick up the phone and dial up my former psychiatrist after so many years, I did so. I have carried on for over three months since my initial surgery going up and down and up and down… and then the downs became longer and the brain fog became thicker.

While the fog may be primarily due to all of the medications and anesthetics and sedatives, it’s taken on a more familiar tint of gray that I know well. There isn’t much for me to “talk about” however I know when the chemistry in my system becomes darker and uneven. All there is now is to figure out which medication won’t mess with my QT interval and cause more cardiac issues (even going on an antidepressant becomes an adventure, now, see?)

I know that this is one more step in the road, and that it will be okay. I am not in a severely deep, dark place – and for that I’m grateful. I felt that I was on that bumpy, slippery cobblestone road, though. I’m sure that hormonal variances have assisted in the deepening gloom, but I’m not going to “wait and see” anymore. This is a hard enough journey – and I miss my mind. I miss finding humor in just about anything, although I still do laugh at ridiculousness. There was an episode I just watched of Downton Abbey which made me giggle for awhile. It was then that I realized that I didn’t recognize my own chuckle anymore.

My goal is to stop this in its tracks before it goes any further. I am quite aware that I’m not the only patient in the world who experiences these darker moments, and I’m blessed to have recognized the signs. I can only hope that this chapter will assist more out there who realize that it’s perfectly fine to pick up the phone and get back to "normal." Or, if you’re also a Super Mutant, as normal as possible.