Thursday, January 12, 2012

Ode To The Antipsychotic

Tom Wilson was a Cartoonist of great humor and
insight. Although dismissed by many critics
he had a very large and loyal following.

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Ode To The Antipsychotic

I counted out my medicines
carelessly tonight. Retiring
early I lay in repose, relaxing
my physical person and
my respiration came in easy
regularity to the point of
habitual slumber. Though
my body sleeps I with effort
stop conscious thought by
meditation technique while
I am aware I am not sleeping.
Hearing  city night sounds of
sirens in the distance, patrolling
helicopters and neighbors quiet
voices passing under my window.
These spark thought, at first in
simple spirals that veer into
linear perceptions like parted
friends come back to play. I
see at once the pills in the
evening dish, and missing
from the pack is the alpha
seroquel.
Eyes still closed tight, corporal
form at rest, shall I rise and
repair the error? How much
time is past? This poem titled
and neatly started; will it be
here at some future composition?
The nadir of my manic muse
that poisons expression brings
the world first to me but then
as quickly drives it away by the
relentless thought that banishes
sleep, disrupts breath and leaves
me trapped in a complexity of
variables of thought that may
or may not make sense to myself
but cause others to furl their
brows and move away.
After many antipsychotic 'scripts
and side effects with each, this
seroquel at last melts my mania
in knocking me out reliably and
imposing long and study slumber.
My doctor told me it brought on
the diabetes my obesity has
kept me on the borderline of for
half a decade, but it seems a
reasonable bargain for a way to
peacefully cope in a way that
while damping my mania does
not strangle my creativity or
restrict my intellect.
In my journey into the tunnel
of diagnosis of perceived
mental illness I have been through
crisis centers and psychiatrists
and state hospitals and jailhouses
and on the streets of big cities.
I’ve seen and met and questioned
listened, carefully listened to each
one who would share her story,
her diagnosis, review his prescription
and her effects direct and side.
I saw their capacity to love and
felt the sorrow from their
existence and their fear of not
knowing and not trusting the
doctors, drugs and even the
diagnosis that strips us of the
perceived sanity that in time
we wonder why it seemed
to matter.
I came through the tunnel a
functional person by the
love and help of family and
friends; but it was mainly up
to my own effort, that as with
each of us. Try to find trust
in your doctors treatment,
they have seen many similar
patient’s diagnosis. Try the
meds, but read all you can
about the affects, and try to
see past initial side effects and
look for improvement. it is
a numbers game, keep after
your doctor to find the right
combination to make your
mind function for you.

Comic Book Shaman
Jan 12, 2012

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