LOSING MYSELF, FINDING PEACE POST 5 CLOZAPINE

After only a few days, I was released from the psychiatric ward. It was practically a dream come true. I felt SOOO much better. The new medication, Clozapine, worked wonders. I was more stable and the suicidal thoughts were gone. It was an extremely effective drug with truly serious side effects. It was an older medication, rarely used which is why my psychiatrist hadn’t recommended it before. The new ones were supposed to be better, safer, but they didn’t work for me.

Clozapine seemed magical, but my reality was not. I was discharged, handed a prescription and my wife picked me up. We went to my regular pharmacy.  I dropped the prescription off and was told it would be the standard 20 minutes. When I came back 20 minutes later, the nightmare started. The pharmacist told me he couldn’t fill the prescription, because they didn’t have it. I called or visited four additional pharmacies before being told that the only pharmacy in the area that was authorized to fill the prescription was a 30-minute drive away. We arrived at the new pharmacy only to find out that I needed specific blood work done before I could get the drug.  I called the hospital and they said they’d send over the results from the blood work I had done that morning. I waited again and then the new pharmacist said they hadn’t sent the blood work that was required, and it had been too long since the blood was drawn to add to the order. Now it was late Saturday afternoon.  I couldn’t get blood work done until Monday.  I was nearing hysteria.  I NEEDED that medication.

The saga didn’t end there.  As I battled, calling doctors and pharmacies back and forth, we discovered that, because this medication had such serious side effects there were requirements that had to be met before it could be dispensed:

1) The pharmacy to be used must be authorized to dispense that specific medication.

2)The doctor must enroll the patient on a registry, which requires giving the patient information on the side effects so the patient can make an informed decision. When I looked it up, there were pages listing possible side effects.

3) Specific blood work needed to be done every week for 6 months, every other week for 6 months and then every month as long as I was on the medication. 

4) Only one prescription could be dispensed after each blood draw.

The hospital had done nothing to satisfy these requirements. I had been discharged without the ability to get the medication I was relying on. I never should have been given that medication without these requirements being met. I went without medication for five days and I deteriorated to the point that I was incoherent. My insurance representative, trying to help expedite the process, gave up talking to me and requested to speak with my wife. The hospital apologized profusely. The weekend doctor called it a “fiasco”. The manager called to apologize.  My ECT doctor, who had been responsible for my care while I was in the hospital, wanted to apologize personally, but I refused to talk to him. I knew I would end up being understanding if I talked to him and I wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

The pharmacy I found that could dispense the medicine was a 30-minute drive from my house, each way. Even with the inconvenience of the weekly blood draw, driving to another town to get the prescription filled, and the awful side effects, it was worth it.  I was able to think again. I was able to see the gifts of God around me. I was able to appreciate the love I received from so many people, people who said, “It’s so good to see you smile!”

As I used the Clozapine, I began regaining the life that had been shattered. It was a miracle drug for me. Every day I was able to think more clearly, spend less time crying or getting angry. I was able to return to church. The other parishioners commented on my healing. I went from not attending church to attending church in tears only to leave the minute it was over, to being at church and smiling again. I was able to feel joy without needing life to be perfect. I was able to be grateful for my friends, family and even strangers who were praying for me. It wasn’t perfect. The psychosis wasn’t completely gone, but it was soooo much better!

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Photo by Christina Victoria Craft on Unsplash