2020's gift to me

If this experience were written as a horror story or made into a movie, I certainly would not read or watch it, and I honestly would not believe it. The problem is, I lived it as the COVID-19 madness became a reality...

Note: Before reading this column today, I want to be honest and advise those of a squeamish nature to stop right here. The following is my interpretation of what happened during an adverse reaction to prescription drugs I used to take. I did not abuse the drug in any way. Apparently, the side effect can occur after an extended time of usage in rare cases. I was one of the rare circumstances during a 48-hour period. I knew then, and I know now rationally that this did not happen, but it felt so real and terrifying - you might not want to know either.

If this experience were written as a horror story or made into a movie, I certainly would not read or watch it, and I honestly would not believe it. The problem is, I lived it as the COVID-19 madness became a reality...

2020's gift to me...

By IVY JACOBS

Just Ask Me

Ever felt like you couldn't trust your mind, thoughts, physical body, or your judgment?

During 2020... I had an experience that is not public knowledge.

I wrote about it rather quickly, trying to cope, but it was never published until now.

What follows is a nightmare, my nightmare.

Recently (February 2020), the side effects of a prescription drug I had taken religiously per doctor's order over eight months caught up with me. Unlike anything I have experienced during my 55 years of a sane and rational life, it was an unexpected and terrifying situation.

This incident scared my husband and family members and impacted our family pets in a way they wouldn't even come around me for a while afterward. At this moment, I was not the person they knew any more, and it's an experience of a drug-induced psychosis that I will never forget.

Waking up in the middle of the night feeling an electric razor blade cutting into the bones in my lower jaw, I knew it was heading straight for my brain. Scrambling out of bed to run, unsure where I was going, I screamed and grabbed my husband's feet on the way to the bathroom.

Jolting out of a sound sleep, my husband found me begging for help as I put warm water in my mouth. Why? I thought the water would stop the razor blade, but it tore up my teeth and bones anyway. All I could do was keep the water from touching the roof of my mouth, hold the sides of my head with my hands, and try somehow to keep it all together.

This wasn't really happening deep inside my mind, but the physical pain and sounds were undeniable to me. I looked in the mirror to check it wasn't real. I couldn't see anything; this was happening inside.

As my husband tried to make sense of what was happening, I wouldn't answer him: The water was too essential to spit out.

I needed proof the sensations in my body and what my mind was telling me were not real. A rational mind was in there trying to understand, but it couldn't without proof.

Unable to talk, I frantically scrambled around the second floor of our home looking for paper and something to write with. It seemed to take forever, and I think I made a mess. When I had them in hand, I scratched out "Help me" on the paper, then "I'm scared."

There was fear in my husband's eyes, and he was trembling because I NEVER screamed or acted like this before. Scratching on the paper again, I asked to go to the hospital, explaining I needed proof my body wasn't melting.

I won't forget the look he gave me as I scribbled what symptoms were happening to me. Yet, his wisdom and technology solved the dilemma for me: Grabbing his cellphone, he took my picture and said: "See, you're OK." He held my head as sweat poured, and I trembled, scribbling on the paper it was melting. It wasn't; he couldn't feel anything. When I did open my mouth, I cursed a lot, yet he stayed with me.

Finally, I quieted down enough to fall asleep after telling my husband, "If I am dying, know I love you." I think I gave him my final wishes as I laid my head on his chest. If it was over, it was OK, I thought.

But, a few hours later, I jolted awake to do it all over again. This time my stick-like bones melted away from head to toe. Did I mention the painful spiderwebs shooting out of my pores, tentacles pulling at my throat and inside my head and body? You don't want to know that part, trust me, because I prefer to forget it.

Terrified, with a death grip on my husband, I felt the tissue reform into something akin to a plastic Halloween skeleton. How did I know it was plastic? Because my tongue could feel it in the roof of my mouth. Another picture proved it wasn't real. Needless to say, he took a lot of pictures.

The mind sure can screw with you when it is in a state of chaos. I believed my husband and the pictures when I calmed down earlier, but now my brain unfairly decided to concoct a new tragedy for me to endure. It wasn't the first. Over the next 48 hours, there were several variations of nightmarish madness that took over my body.

I admit to yelling at the nightmare a couple of times: "This is my body, my brain, and you are not in control, so just stop it right now." Oddly, it helped me relax and cope with it all.

Each time my husband and family members sat with me as the drugs slowly left my system, and the intensity of the psychosis began to fade away. We tried to find humor amid the chaos and did a few times. I told my husband at one point that if I turned into a pile of goo to put me in a jar and keep me nearby.

Yes, I have been to the doctor for treatment. I am recovering, but there's a haunting echo in my body, a tingling inside my nerves crawling just under the skin that hasn't left yet. I silently curse it into being quiet as life goes on.

The diagnosis is the medication is something I will never be able to take again, and I'm OK with that. There were signs this was coming, but I couldn't see or didn't understand because of the drug. (Maybe my brain wouldn't let me, enjoying the devious party games it created on the horizon. I'm only joking, truly I am! I can laugh about this now.)

A month before this happened:

• I had trouble with losing things all the time. It seemed I could have my car keys, my phone, anything really in my hands and still not find them.

• I had trouble putting sentences or conversations in the right order, or I would just slip away from a thought in mid-sentence, not realizing it happened.

• I wasn't eating or drinking like I am supposed to do.

• There were way too many sleepless nights, and I was secluding myself from others because I was frustrated a lot.

• I fixated on a small health issue until it became the source for my nightmare, and then there was an unwillingness to talk to anyone about what was happening, keeping it a secret to myself.

Anyone reading this list might think, "I do that one all the time. Sounds normal enough to me."

The truth is, it might be normal for someone else, but it wasn't for me. These were things out of character, not my regular routine. I kept up the appearance of being normal and continued working right up until I went to bed that night. I am grateful it wasn't in public or at work when this happened. How could I explain that to anybody, or to my grandson Boogs if he had seen me?

That's the reason why I wrote this column a year ago. Not to explain to me, but so someone else who is experiencing or witnessing someone they care about having a similar issue with medication, stress, anxiety, mental health issues, or even alcohol or illegal drugs? I truly feel I understand the dark side of substance abuse after this happened.

We need to talk openly and honestly about these types of issues within our social groups and in our families to promote a better understanding and hopefully create impactful change for everyone in the future.

If you or someone you know is experiencing some adverse reaction to a medication, becoming overwhelmed with stress, anxiety, or even psychosis, please seek medical attention. I found myself there one night, and thank God I had the support of my husband and family to help me calm down and get the necessary help.

As for me, within a few days - before I could get in to see my doctor - COVID-19 happened. Talk about a stressful situation. I was still experiencing the echoes from the psychosis - now, my anxiety and stress remain connected with that night.

As I did my job this past year, I could feel all those symptoms happening to me again. I thank God for my family, who checked on me daily. Sometimes it was just a "hey, how you doing," other times it was just to tell me they loved me. Texts, phone calls, Facebook posts were all checking up on me. They even offered to take pictures if I needed proof it wasn't happening to me again.

I don't know if the razor blades that I feel inside me will ever go away - it's actually a tingling sensation of my nerves when I'm stressed out, anxious, or overwhelmed with something. The echoes are always there, softly grinding away in the back of my mind. I've even felt them when having a great time with my family and friends - laughing and joking around - seems my nerves, my mind doesn't understand there's a difference.

The doctors don't have any answers yet, and might not have any as this continues. I guess this is my "new normal," a gift from 2020 that I carry into my future.

Guess the good thing is I know what that feeling is; my family knows it too, and they help make sure I can laugh about it from time to time. That's the incredible thing about family, honestly working through tough times together, we have become stronger, and united.