My story relates to a certain issue in my life, your story will be different because...well, because you are you. We are each unique. Our similarity is that we all, being human, experience difficult places along our path of life yet we each see them from our own perspective. The endeavor here is to be encouraging. It's not about my "story" - it's about the victory awaiting each of us when overcoming our trials, and the wisdom we've gained through the process. I've also written, as a symbolic depiction of my experience, a story of victory I call Benny. For some it may be enlightening, for others encouraging.
By nature I am calm and easygoing, so 12 days following and elective and fairly routine surgery in the Spring of 2006 I was caught completely off guard when I began to experience symptoms similar to anxiety. However, knowing myself, I knew what was happening was not “anxiety”, yet, seeking medical help, that is exactly how the examining physician diagnosed it and sent me off with a prescription for Xanax. My question regarding the relationship between what was happening to me and the surgery was summarily dismissed. I accepted the prescription because at that point all I wanted was for the torture of what I was experiencing to go away. And it did...for a while.
Over the weeks and months - and several ER visits due to increasing symptoms - I ended up on a much stronger dosage of the drug. If we consider Valium level 1 on the scale, I was now at level 4. Although I must give credit where credit is due - there was one ER physician who managed to see the connection between my condition and the drug but unfortunately that connection was lost in translation to the follow-up physician. A few weeks later my physician instructed me to stop the medication. I believe, had I not listened to the still small voice that spoke wisdom into my heart the night I planned to end the medication, I might not be here today. I later learned this serious drug can cause seizures, even death, when stopped suddenly after lengthly exposure. That night I clearly heard, Don't just stop – taper. I decided to reduce the dosage by half and about 12 hours later found myself suffering full withdrawal symptoms. I shudder to think what may have happened had I just stopped taking the drug as directed. This was now over 1 year past the surgery – the benchmark event – and my body was completely dependent upon the drug yet the drug was causing my symptoms. No one had recognized this fact, including myself. I had begun to suspect as much, but by then I was too sick to research the problem. Later research helped me understand the depths of the issue. Looking back I now believe that was God-directed research.
It was a process of 6 months time to wean and taper my body from the drug after having lived with it in my system for over a year. However, this is a very insidious drug and it's effects linger in the body proportionately to the length of time of exposure. I consider myself to be one of the lucky ones – my exposure at only a little over a year with a relatively small dosage doesn't compare with some who have spent many years living with this drug in their system at high doses. For them the process of getting free is quite extensive and very painful – both physically and emotionally. Yet the freedom is truly worth the journey.
For me the truth of this story is my body has a sensitivity to the drug class called benzodiazepine – a common drug given during surgery. To the best of my knowledge I had never taken nor been given this drug prior to that surgery in the Spring of 2006 – that was my FIRST exposure. When exposed to this drug class my body instantly enters a state called “tolerance withdrawal”. I now list it as an “allergy” as instructed by a physician.
Someone once called what I experienced as being an "accidental addict". I don't agree with that depiction of the experience – but I do like the analogy. By my definition "addict" indicates some choice in the process of "becoming". I did not make the choice it was chosen for me and it was far too late when I realized what had happened. Those who should have seen - did not. I will leave it at that. I am neither angry nor unforgiving. I am not the same person I was prior to that experience. I'd like to think I'm a better person, having greater faith (in God), understanding (of myself) and compassion for others as a result.
I credit my success to my faith in Christ, my husband, my daughter and my Christian friends who all supported me during that time. I couldn't have done it without them and, oddly enough, I wouldn't trade it for anything.
To God be the glory!
