I Don't Like The Drugs (But The Drugs Like Me)
Biperiden is an interesting drug. So is Haloperidol. Like many interesting drugs that are supposed to make my life better, I’m going to ditch them for now and go Rambo.
Having slowly returned to a comparatively mild relapse for a comparatively mild mental disorder, I need prescribed drugs now. So far, the idea of mind-over-matter didn’t work for me. Biperiden gives you lockjaw, and Haloperidol gives you the jitters that you can’t hide. If you’re really intent on concealing shivering from Haloperidol, you might as well do the Macarena while having the Parkinson’s-like side-effect: there’s just no way you can hide it.
I’ve had a history with prescribed drugs that affect your nervous system: they used to give me Midrid to control the ill-effects of migraine before I was diagnosed with the disorder. After a three-week regimen, it effectively became my sleeping pill. Midrid knocks you out like nobody’s business: I bet even Manny Pacquiao’s left hook can beat it. Then came the tranquilizers.
If you’re like me, you’re a medical guinea pig, especially when doctors tell you how much you need the tranquilizers. I looked at the medical guides, and it seemed that the drugs they gave me over the past two years are the stuff you would shoot an elephant with. I started off with Amisulpride, then to Chlorpromazine, then to the first witches’ brew of Haloperidol and Clozapine, then to Risperdal, then to the second witches’ brew of Haloperidol and Chlorpromazine, then to Clozapine, then back to Haloperidol.
Risperdal, while obscenely expensive, tastes strangely like toothpaste and the melt-in-the-mouth thing was addictive. But as much as I hate to admit it, Haloperidol is supposed to be my new best friend.