My Transplant and Depression: Life on the Dark Side

There is a television commercial that starts something like this, "What does depression look like...?"; it continues with sad pictures and images of people lying around with dark circles under their eyes, all the while promoting the merits of a particular antidepressant.

For more than two years now, I would argue that depression looks like me... me living life on "the Dark Side." I'd taken antidepressants on and off for years prior to receiving the news that I needed a transplant; the on-and-off nature of my medicine consumption occurred because when the antidepressants worked, I'd decide that I no longer needed them until a few months (or sometimes years) would pass, I would become depressed again and resume taking them. The transplant diagnosis made me pretty upset (absolutely freaked out, to be honest) and as I became sicker and more worried about the surgery, I became more depressed. So my internist increased my antidepressant, telling me that many or most transplant patients take antidepressants because of the emotional impact of the surgery and recovery.

Six or seven months after my difficult and complicated transplant, I was again depressed, due to seemingly endless health issues, financial problems, inability to be Super Mom (or even Average Mom). The load was taking its toll and I couldn't seem to snap out of the blues. Both my local internist and my hepatologist at the transplant center urged action, so my antidepressant dosage was increased again.

And so for the next 15 to 18 months I dragged along. Whenever my energy level improved I'd feel better, more positive - but then one of the seemingly never-ending "hiccups" would occur, I wouldn't feel so well and then I would become frustrated and depressed once again. It sucked. I stayed home, rarely wore makeup, napped often, grumped "Why don't I feel better?" and fruitlessly tried to exert control over an uncontrollable situation. Yes, depression looked like me.

My internist was concerned. I was taking about as much of my antidepressant as was reasonable, so she recommended cutting back on it and adding a second one to balance out my moods and hopefully help boost my energy and sense of well-being. At that time, however, I was experiencing increases in some of my liver function lab tests - not a good sign. I thought it would be best to delay adjusting any meds until the labs/liver function matters were sorted out, so I bided time by wringing my hands and worrying about my new liver. Finally, after six weeks or so, the labs stabilized and I could consider starting the new antidepressant.

And then came the intervention.

I'll tell you about that on my next post.