Depot

One thing I promised on release from hospital was to go on a depot so that there would be no uncertainty of me being compliant on medication.

Another reason that pushed me towards going onto a depot was the fact I felt guilty about what I had put my husband and mother through with this recent admission to hospital. Whilst I was in hospital my granddad (my mother’s dad) died. My mother was having to help with baby boy and in her words I needed to pull myself together. In her time of grief I could not be there with her and she could not mourn in peace. I was also denied permission by staff to visit a church the day I found out grandad had died. I knew in that moment my mother was right- I had to pull myself together and do what people were saying to me but..

I like to be in control and having something done to me felt like it was out of my control. It’s not a nice thing to be injected in general. It’s not a nice thing when you don’t believe you need it. One of my fears was that I would have to have it administered in the gluteal muscle, but thankfully my arm muscle was good enough.

I was put on the antipsychotic injection, paliperidone. One of the common side effects of this is increased prolactin levels which can lead to lactation and no periods. This is what happened to me. I continually asked to change medication but there was reluctance as I was “stable”. At one point it was increased further due to “symptoms only 75-80%” controlled.

I was referred to an endocrinologist who had to rule out if a pituitary tumour was the cause of these symptoms. The MRI was very claustrophobic and I was on the verge of a panic attack during it. I was using all my psychological knowledge and skills to remain calm and not move.

Luckily I didn’t have a tumour and as I had always believed, it was antipsychotic medication induced hyperprolactinemia. I was also sent for a bone density scan due to my low vitamin D levels and I was diagnosed with osteopenia. All these things made me hate being on antipsychotics and the frustration of not being heard by the psychiatrist was getting to me. Eventually he halved my dosage to reduce the symptoms but my care coordinator didn’t think this was a good idea. She was right.

I started to become unwell again. This combined with me missing sertraline doses meant my head was all over the place. Due to my adamancy of not wanting to be on a depot anymore, it was decided I would come off the depot and changed to oral medication.