About 4 years ago, around the time I found out my best friend was dying of cancer, I started to withdraw from a low-dose tranquilizer that I’d been on for many years. The doctor prescribed it at the time when my daughter first started to withdraw from me and the family so that I could get some sleep. He had assured me that it was safe and the possibilities for addiction were pretty much nil.

Almost immediately upon lowering the dose I noticed my feet, hands and even the core of my body started to feel extremely cold. Over time I found myself feeling like the center of my body was trembling. I had problems with dizziness and on several occasions it seemed like the floor in the room I was in was shifting.

The final straw was when I was at work one day and found myself looking at a co-worker who was talking directly to me but nothing he said made any sense. I excused myself and went to the restroom to try and calm down and re-group. It just got worse as I found myself looking at what I knew was my hand but it felt like it belonged to someone else. There was a dis-connect. Welcome to the world of derealization and depersonalization.

I called my doctor and managed to get in right away. He explained that I was having withdrawal symptoms from the Benzodiazepam (Clonazepam) medication. Doing some research on the internet I found that there is indeed a problem with withdrawal from even low-doses. If there was a good part to all this, it was that even if it lasted a long time (months and possibly years) it would eventually get better. That’s what I hung my hopes on. My doctor assured me what I was experiencing was directly related to the Clonazepam withdrawal.

A few weeks ago I found myself sitting in the doctor’s exam room where I was more than a little apprehensive. I’d been having pins & needles sensations along with coldness in my legs and arms, sometimes numbness in my hands when sleeping (or trying to), headaches and eye problems. I didn’t think it was withdrawal symptoms anymore. I made the mistake of looking up those symptoms on webmd.com. The results weren’t good.

The doctor talked at length with me about what it could be and ordered several blood tests to check my thyroid, blood sugar, etc. He sat beside me on the exam and asked me to swallow as he felt my neck. He looked at me and said, “To acknowledge the 600 pound gorilla in the room, it could also be MS.” Jesus, I didn’t want to hear that.

If you’ve ever been screened for depression you know one of the many questions they ask is “Are you worried or preoccupied with your health?” That’s because the black dog brings with it all sorts of aches and pains. You find yourself worrying about what they might signify. Fighting depression is hard enough with imagined health issues, now it appears I may have a real one.

In all honesty I was completely overwhelmed by this news. It was difficult to go through the motions in what was left of my day. I was consumed with the prospect of watching my physical health fall apart in a very unpleasant way. I was also equally consumed by thoughts of refusing to live with a disease like this.

For cruel irony - it appears MS brings with it the following:

• Some people with MS have difficulty making decisions, thinking abstractly and generalizing.
• Many MS patients (some estimate that as many as 50 percent) suffer from depression at some point. While sometimes this is a reaction to the effects that MS is having on their lives, often this depression is directly caused by MS itself.

So now I wait for an appointment with a neurologist and try to not think about it while holding on to hope that whatever it is I’m experiencing is something that can be treated and will not last long.

Sometimes life can make you feel like Job tormented by God and the devil. I’m ready for a few months rest where nothing bad or stressful happens. I’ve been waiting a long time.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 24th, 2008 at 10:48 am and is filed under anxiety, fear, stress.