It was not an acceptable choice to wean off the rest. I took my last dose of Seroquel in late November of 2010.
My primary care provider is an advanced nurse practitioner at a “progressive medical center.” Avante specializes in naturopathic medicine.
My treatment has focused on amino acids, vitamins, medicinal herbs such as passion flower, bio-identical hormone replacement, and melatonin.
In my case, essentially since it came on the market in 1997.
In the thunder of stories breaking loose regarding psych drug withdrawal, I am hearing next to nothing about Seroquel and I feel a moral obligation to offer up my story for the common good. In 2009, I discovered, as countless people have, that I had been massively misled.
I had highly resistant bacterial infections (a good clue that my immune system was not functioning well) and extreme reactions to food and chemicals (like cosmetics, alas). The issue of insomnia, was to put it oxymoronically, a nightmare. My body was fixed in a state of fight or flight that created severe inflammation, agitated exhaustion, and severe irritability.
The best four hundred dollars I have ever spent (not covered by insurance, and Why IS that? For more than a year I was lucky if I got three or four hours of sleep, and I went days (nights, really) in a row with absolutely none. There were periods of crisis, but the clumsy interventions only made things worse (Ambien, which did not work and Haldol, which gave me 24 hours of uncontrollable facial movements).this relationship I’m talking about, a business partnership or a corporate merger. When meaningful, thoughtful communication stops – big trouble starts… Just me in severe pain, my partner Jim in extreme fear, and a bunch of men in white coats who project the certainty that they know everything (aka doctors). A month and a half later, visiting Alaska’s “neighboring state,” Hawaii, minus my uterus and ovaries, the same thing happened, and my health began a downward spiral. This was something I could act upon, and since I love creative challenges, I began writing a cook book.My sightseeing on the beautiful island of Maui was largely restricted to urgent care centers and the one hospital emergency room. My first title (suggested by Jim) was the “I’m Allergic to Everything Cookbook.” Now, a year later, the title may well be, “No Grains, No Pains.” The issue of sustenance, post Seroquel, was relatively easily addressed.Let me stick to the subject of Seroquel, and cut directly to the chase.