Tardive dyskinesia is an often permanent side effect of any number of psych drugs. It took over a decade to find the right drug cocktail to let me function and participate in life like a normal (ahem) person, and I’ve been really cautious about tinkering with the pharmacology since then—even if it could potentially make my body finally SIT THE FUCK STILL.
But my neurologist decided yesterday that I’m at a place where my psychotropics are working (more or less) and I’m able to observe my intrusive thoughts and bipolar episodes and frustrating side effects with a degree of objectivity in case I start to plummet … so he launched me on a new pharmaceutical adventure that I started this morning.
So far, the only thing I’ve noticed is a chronic inability to avoid typos at work. But it’s shivery-cold and I’m a feeble 56 and I’m jacked up on Diet Coke and I’ve been snorting a substance I got in a corpse-strewn alley from a one-eyed walking tattoo named Prison Killer Dave, so the cause of the typos is really anybody’s guess.
As of this writing, the only real takeaway here, of course, is that Amantadine is a pretty alpha drag name.
