As much as I tried to ignore it, by late this weekend it was painfully obvious that 20mg of Prozac a day just wasn't cuttin' it. I was feeling more and more miserable and poor Ed was at his wits end. Yesterday I called the doctor to let him know that while I wasn't ready to jump off a tall building, I did feel extreme guilt every time something as mundane as a GRAPE crossed my mouth and if I COULD throw up, I would. (But considering I can barely throw up when I have a legitimate stomach flu, crammin' my fingers down my throat is a lost cause) Misty, his awesome nurse, called me at 8:15 this morning and said that he DEFINITELY wanted to see me because I should be feeling SOME kind of relief now. As luck would have it, Ed was waiting on parts for his service truck and was able to go with me. Not that he thought I was making anything up, but bless him, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it all.
I have to stop and say this: I absolutely ADORE my doctor. He cares SO. MUCH. about his patients' well being. He sat there for an HOUR answering all of our questions- especially Ed's.
And that's when I got the news: "A couple of weeks ago I wasn't so sure, but now the picture is MUCH clearer and there's no doubt in my mind- this is a full blown eating disorder."
Huh. I mean, I "knew" that... but there was something so final about seeing it in black and white. Sure enough, it says so right there on my lil checkout papers "Eating Disorder- Not Otherwise Classified"
Awesome.
I told him about my Zumba. (God love him, Ed was asking if I should join Weight Watchers of the gym to make myself feel better. And God love him, the doctor sat right there patiently explaining the concept of PERCEPTION and how all the working out in the world wasn't going to make me feel better- it was mental) I was pretty devastated that my weight hadn't dropped any... I was even more devastated when the doc cautioned me with my Zumba. He said that it could become a form of purging. I admitted if it was offered more than twice a week I'd be there with bells on... and that the first thing I did after I got home from class was Google how many calories an hour Zumba burned. I may or may not have gotten the stank eye after that comment.
So now, my body refuses to eat my ass AND my exercise is limited by doctor's orders. (Cause if I find myself trying to do more exercise than just this twice a week I won't be allowed to do ANY until this gets under control)
Awesome...er.
So the final verdict was to increase the Prozac to the "go to" dose for eating disorders which is 60mg/day (that's triple what I'm on now for you math majors) and he's doing it muy rapido. I start taking 40mg/day tomorrow and on Saturday I start taking 60mg/day. I've also left a message for my counselor (who I haven't seen in a year, but whatevs) to at least get pointed in the right direction for the cognitive therapy I need.
Jack it to Jesus, doc! Jack it to Jesus.
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