Scared of Sertraline (and all pharmaceuticals)

Why can’t I take a deep breath? This is what has gone through my head for the past few weeks. I had a similar period of time earlier this year – 6-7 weeks of not being able to take a full, satisfying, deep breath. This happened before lockdown, right near the start of the pandemic sweeping it’s way through the UK. The doctor said it was heightened anxiety. Perhaps having that diagnosis helped my brain encourage the feeling to stop, and the increased blood pressure seemed to regulate itself too.

Why then, am I experiencing the same thing again? But this time with what Phil used to describe as a “skippy heart” or “fluttery beats”, in my stomach and throat though, and not really in my heart. But palpitations all the same. My new GP has given me a fantastic first impression. She didn’t write it off to anxiety (I guess being new to me, she wanted a full investigation), and had a heart trace done, and checked my bloods (all ok, thankfully). I’ve spoken to her twice on the phone, and went in to see her on Friday. We discussed what to do, and I have always been so reluctant to take medication for anxiety, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I felt I could control and ease the anxiety with yoga, meditation, a weighted blanket, and an acupressure mat.

But, I’ve never experienced physical symptoms as scary or intense as this breathing issue and palpitations before.

I took Citalopram back in 2009, as I was depressed. The side effects were awful, and when I came off them, I swore to myself to never ever take any drugs for depression again.

But this isn’t depression. I am not depressed. Yes, I am sad. I miss Phil, and time does not ease that. I have learnt to live with the underlying sadness inside of me. It is sadness, not depression. Having experienced the latter, I know it’s the former. I’m happy – I love my life, my dog, my fiance, so glad to be given the opportunity to change my career, I have the BEST friends, and I’m super lucky to have both my parents.

Then why do I worry ALL the time? I worry about every ache and pain. I’m 43 so I should expect aches and pains! The last time I had this level of health anxiety was when I had symptoms of undiagnosed colitis, therefore this time, I feel there is something being missed and I must have another terrible illness within me.

Phil was 42 when he died. I am now 43 and 4 months. I irrationally expect to die at any moment. Boom, gone! Just like him. It does happen. Not only to him. I know of other people who were in my life, or peripheral to my life, who died, suddenly, no warning, just gone.

If it happened to them, then why not me, or my parents, or my fiance, or my friends? I worry all the time, who is next, when, what are they doing, what risks are they taking, will they/I wake up, this could be the last time I do any activity, the last time I see my parents, the last time I speak to someone. Every day in my head, death, death, death, death. It’s all-consuming. It’s become the main part of my internal chatter. Everything gets related back to dying or death. Every time I leave the house, I say goodbye to my dog, like it may be the last time I see him. I breathe him in (one of my guilty pleasures is smelling labradors heads – try it, it’s addictive, and comforting). I walk away from him, mental image engrained, as it may be the last time I see him. That’s an example. It’s the same feeling when I leave my parents, my fiance, and my friends, or even places. Maybe that will be the last time I will visit Carrot Hill, or Tentsmuir; I’d better appreciate it as much as I can.

Can you imagine (or maybe you relate) to how tiring that is?

Talking of being tired. It’s 05.43 and I am wide awake. I woke up at 4am, pain in my lower right abdomen. Rationally I know this is muscular. I’ve not done yoga for 2 days, and I have been sitting down a lot. This always happens when I am more sedentary. But, my head started telling me that I must have a tumour in there. Of course! Catastrophic thinking, but when you are scared of the dark, and lying in the pitch-black (it’s so much darker here than the previous house), trying to stop those rolling thoughts, feels impossible. I lay for an hour, then thought, I need to write.

While lying in bed before rising, I Googled Sertraline. This is what the doctor prescribed me on Friday. 28 tablets, with a review at the end of the third week. I was told they may cause some side effects – dizziness, nausea, diarrhea, for the first few days, so I decided to wait until Sunday to take them, as I had a friend staying Friday into Saturday daytime.

Now the time has come. It is Sunday. And I am petrified. I do not want to take them. I hated Citalopram, and what if Sertraline has the same side effects? It is an SSRI too, so must work in a similar way, and have the same effects. Surely.

There are mixed reviews on Google, and I know that pharmaceuticals affect people differently. I know I will not know exactly how these will make me feel. What if they get rid of the skippy beats? But what if the skippy beats are an arrhythmia that has been missed in the tests, and what if this drug makes it worse, or fatal? A fatal flutter, like what happened to my brother. A mistake. From popping a pill he was encouraged to take. Damn pharmaceuticals. I made a pact with myself to only take them if the condition I have is life-threatening. I take mesalazine to treat my ulcerative colitis. I have no choice, as the UC would become life-threatening without any treatment. I know this, and I don’t read side effects, as that would scare me.

Anxiety is not life-threatening. As real as the symptoms are, and they make you feel like you are in danger of dying, you won’t. So, why should I cave-in to a pharmaceutical pressure?

Urgh, it’s so hard to know what to do! I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. Keep going as I am, and hope the feelings (physical and mental) ease with time, or take a chance on something which could be negative, or could end up being very positive, if my body tolerates it well?

I am not a risk-taker nowadays. I used to be. Phil was risk-adverse, he trusted the doctors completely, he felt he was in safe hands. He died. A mistake, but it cost him his life. Do I want to take that gamble? Surely lightning won’t strike twice in the same family? I put nothing past fate these days. I don’t trust that things will work out ok anymore. I expect the worst, yet I do still have a fraction of hope for the best……

Perhaps it’s that hope I should cling on to, and take that leap. Try it. Be brave, Jen. Imagine a life with less anxiety in it, less worry, more relaxed again, that Saturday-night feeling, feet-up, relaxed, laughing, cosy in your home, with the person you love most, and a beautiful dog who deserves an owner full of joy. I crave that so much. It’s something I took for granted. What if a wee pill could bring me some of that contentment back? I want to be able to enjoy the next year, planning our wedding, not feeling skippy beats every time we have to speak to someone regarding arrangements, and I want to feel butterflies of excitement on the wedding day, not moths of anxiety.

Have I talked myself into it? I’m still not convinced. I’m sure my insomnia tonight has been due to worry about taking that first tablet. I know Sertraline may cause insomnia, hence I had decided to take the first one in the morning of Sunday, instead of the evening, as Google (ever reliable of course) tells me that morning is best in case insomnia does happen. Sunday 20th September 2020. A pivotal day. But which way will I go?