I saw a movie in 1995, The Cure. It was about two boys, eleven year old Dexter and Eric, a little older. When Eric learns that Dexter has AIDS, he decides to find a cure. People find cures all the time in unexpected places. Since Dexter is not allowed to eat candy, Eric thinks that might be why he has AIDS. Keeping track of Dexter's temperature in a notebook, the boys try a lot of candy. After the first trial results were in, finding low efficacy and an unwanted side effect of stomach ache, they switch to plants down by the river, making a series of infusions (tea). This time a stomach ache leads to a hospitalization. When Dexter's mother ends the experiment and Eric's mother tries to end the relationship, the boys head south on a raft to New Orleans, where there will be new plants.
The Chemistry Experiment was something like The Cure, only my doctors didn't monitor as closely as Eric, nor respond as quickly to my side effects. Part way through it, I drew this picture of The Chemistry Experiment. The bottles crossed off were of Prozac, Celexa, Remeron, and Nortriptyline. Cymbalta is the one being added to the test tube, which was my body. I was willing to try no more than three per series, insisting that I wash out the test tube between. I also changed psychiatrists after three, and quit entirely for a while after Effexor.
I saved all my unfinished scrips. The pills fascinated me. They were the evidence of the violence to my body with which I was collaborating. My therapist really wanted me to throw them away. Eventually I did. But now I wish I still had them. Not to take all at once, that's not my plan. Just for evidence.
The Chemistry Experiment was something like The Cure, only my doctors didn't monitor as closely as Eric, nor respond as quickly to my side effects. Part way through it, I drew this picture of The Chemistry Experiment. The bottles crossed off were of Prozac, Celexa, Remeron, and Nortriptyline. Cymbalta is the one being added to the test tube, which was my body. I was willing to try no more than three per series, insisting that I wash out the test tube between. I also changed psychiatrists after three, and quit entirely for a while after Effexor.
I saved all my unfinished scrips. The pills fascinated me. They were the evidence of the violence to my body with which I was collaborating. My therapist really wanted me to throw them away. Eventually I did. But now I wish I still had them. Not to take all at once, that's not my plan. Just for evidence.