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