Fortunately lamotrigine trained me in advanced acid reflux, so clozapine’s little onslaught hasn’t been too terrible, except for the night it made me puke a couple of times. See, usually those are the sort of details I blog, for my own record of it all and the very welcome fact of your sympathy and empathy about it. I haven’t been whining as much lately though, because disclozapine has been sedating me in ways seroquel can only dream of. My days have been two thirds coma and one third agitated as fuck.
I saw shrink one the other day, and as my voice slurred strangely, she said, “ah, hypersalivation,” and yes folks, that’s another lovely side effect. When I examined what afternoons on clozapine have been like, she said,
“should we consider admitting you?”
“what for? ”
“to contain you.”
Pfffft. I happen to know that ward 13 is full, never mind the fact that… Ag. Stuff. Metaphorically speaking, I have a far nicer padded cell in the form of my dog and my house.
So the workaround is splitting the dose of clozapine and using the prn sulpuride in advance of the afternoon agitation. So far so good, the downside being nasty RLS at odd times of the day.
200mg down, another 150mg to go, and then ECT gets scheduled.
Boring. So much about bipolar is so fucking boring.