Depression: Out of the Darkness

My son M has had three bouts of major depression, one at age 20, another at 25, and the last started when he was 40. In between each episode that lasted 4 months the first time, 6 months the second, and 18 months most recently, he was happy, healthy, fit, working full-time, enjoying life. Contrary to popular thinking about major depressive disorder (MDD), and how you must work on gradual improvement, almost in a matter of minutes he recovered and he has been able to pick up his life where it left off when he was hit.

The insidious disease struck one night in November 2007. Following right behind was its familiar sidekick, agoraphobia. Both disappeared 6 weeks ago. How and why we really don't know. That can and may be debated the rest of my life. The important part is that now he is out on his own, walking miles a day and swimming hours a day at the Y to get in shape to go back to work.

M stopped taking his anti-depressant (Fluoxetine, which is generic Prozac) immediately. (For more than a year he also took generic Paxil.) After another 2 weeks, he stopped taking his anti-psychotic and anti-anxiety drugs (Seroquel and Lorazapam, which is generic Ativan). For awhile after he stopped the heavy drugs, he took an over-the-counter sleep aid each night and an antihistamine for allergies. Two weeks ago, he stopped taking those, as well. He's completely drug-free after being on the life-altering medications for all that time. (I'll post more later about anti-depressants and their debilitating side effects.)

When M first came down with depression in 1987, he was hospitalized for 3 weeks (suicide prevention, no real therapeutic value). In 1992, another 3 weeks in a hospital (again to prevent suicide and nothing of substance for recovery). This time, 5 nights in the hospital at a cost of $10,000 with no medical insurance. (The hospital wrote off the cost because two nurses and a doctor had incorrectly told M the county would pick up the bill when he hadn't even applied for county benefits.) Following the hospital stay were appointments with physicians at a low-cost county clinic in our town, drugs, drugs and more drugs.

I've had plenty of time and opportunity to evaluate treatment of depression, whether it be from medical professionals, hospitals, clinics, or drugs. I believe such therapies fall into the infancy stage. Got depression? Take pills. Got agoraphobia? Take pills. Threatening suicide? Take pills. Stronger and stronger pills. I believe it's going to take a full study, not funded by drug companies, to come to terms with the best therapy for those with depression. I have my own ideas on such therapy and will share those at a later time.

For now, I'm just relieved that my son is still alive and is doing what he thinks he should to continue with his life in the best way possible. I told him, and I absolutely believe this, that he's the strongest person I've ever known or even read about. To live through something so horrible and now be able to go to stores, walk around town, swim, eat well, and enjoy everyday things, is beyond anything he and I could have hoped for during those darkest of days, about 550 of them.