Breaking Down a Few Walls (Part II)

My apologies again for the time that has elapsed between then and now. Philosophically, "Tomorrow" could have multiple definitions...

Without Further Ado:

When I was 19-years-old I spontaneously began lactating. Yes, lactating. I remember being in the bathroom toweling off after a shower, when my hand briefly grazed over my nipple. It was still wet? I dried it off again. As my eyes glanced back towards my chest, I watched in utter horror as yellow liquid began slowly discharging before my eyes.

Now, unless there was divine intervention at work here, I positively KNEW I was not pregnant.

So, I did what any 19-year-old girl would do who lacked a health relationship with either parent: I Googled it!

Unfortunately, the explanations I could find on the internet which could explain what was happening to me were down right terrifying. Brain cancer. Malignant brain tumor. Severe breast infection. Etc. So, I called my Gynecologist's office and made an appointment.

(Editorial note: Looking back, this error in telephone calls was probably my number one mistake. I should have gone to my family practice doctor, who would have admitted his ignorance immediately and referred me to an Endocrinologist asap...but alas, I was 19 and thought my GYN would be the best choice.)

GYN #1

From here on out, this GYN shall be dubbed, "Doctor-who-attempts-to-treat-conditions-that-she-really-doesn't-know-anything-about-and-should-have-referred-me-to-see-a-specialist!" Or, "Dwattctsrdkaaashrmtsas!" for short. Let's just call her, "Dr. D".

Dr. D ran various labs and concluded that the liquid seeping from my breast was, in fact, breast milk and not infection. She also confirmed her suspicions that my Prolactin level was elevated. At the time, it was 81 (normal is under 20). So, Dr. D gave me free samples to get me started and a prescription for Parlodel (bromocriptine mesylate). Her diagnosis for me: "Hyperprolactinemia."

(Editorial Note: In time, I have learned that many women (and men) are diagnosed with this condition when a doctor cannot explain lactation, or elevated prolactin levels. In my opinion/experience, it is a stupid. useless. unhelpful. diagnosis...and it basically means, "We missed something. " Or, "We have no idea what is going on.")

My reaction to Parlodel was terrible. I could not get out of bed. I was so dizzy and confused that it was not abnormal for me to fall down immediately after I stood up from bed. I needed to sleep all day, every day, for 23.5 hours a day.

That particular semester in college, I completely failed every. single. class. I didn't even care, or think, to drop them. After all, I was tucked in my bed fast ASLEEP!

I eventually saw my family practice doctor who refereed me to an Endocrinologist. By the time I finally got into see him the lactation had stopped. However, I still did not know what was happening to me, or how I could live the rest of my life in bed.



Endocrinologist #1

Let's call this first Endocrinologist, "Male-Doctor-who-fails-to-treat-actual-medical-problems-in-women-because-he-would-rather-blame-it-on-THEM", or "Dr. M" for short.

I remember sitting in his office as he questioned me on various aspects in my life: "How many hours a night do you sleep? Oh 23 hours a day, huh? How would you say your interest in activities has been recently? Oh, you aren't interested in doing anything, because you feel tired and confused? And school, how is that going? Oh, you failed last semester? Hmmmm...."

He ran zero medical tests, and only glanced at my medical records from previous doctors once.

Then, Dr. M determined that in his professional opinion, I was depressed. He took me off Parlodel and replaced it with Zoloft. That's right folks, Zoloft. Does Zoloft have anything to do with lactation? No! Did he have any idea what was causing it? NO! Dr. M's best guess was that my lactation might be caused by my "depression."

In my desperation to free myself from the cage Parlodel had imprisoned me in, I took Dr. M's advice and started taking Zoloft. After all, he too had free samples from the pharmaceutical company and it did not cost me a dime, initially. I took Zoloft for four months. But NEVER returned to Dr. M.

Now, I am sure that anti-depressants can save lives. And prescribed by a competent medical professional, I assume they can enhance lives for some people as well. But for someone like me, whose "depression" was caused by a medication they were taking, life on Zoloft was like crawling on lackluster hamster wheel. Life was merely a fog void of emotion or enjoyment. Not to mention, unnecessary sexual side effects. (Anonymous blog: YES!)

After four months, and no longer under the care of any doctors, I quit taking Zoloft. Cold turkey. At the time, I did not know that quitting an anti-depressant without careful professional monitoring could cause serious problems. Possibly resulting in self-injury or even death. I had no clue when I felt myself acting irrational and hating life that my brain was suffocating because it was no longer getting a steady supply of whatever chemical Zoloft was providing.

I sought help from my primary care physician at some point (timing is hazy for me now.) He refereed me to another Endocrinologist in town, Dr. H.

Endocrinologist #2

Thankfully, Dr. H was a step up from Dr. M. He was perplexed as to why Dr. D had placed me on Parlodel in the first place. After all, many of his patients suffer from serious side effects on that medication. In his opinion there was a better, newer, option available for me: Dostinex (Cabergoline). He even hypothesized out loud that perhaps Dr. D had received kickbacks from the pharmaceutical company for every patient she prescribed Parlodel for...Ugh. Just what I wanted to be: a victim of a pharmaceutical incentive program which would help my doctor buy a new yacht.

Dr. H ordered an MRI, and other blood tests for me. However nothing abnormal was seen on the MRI, and except for my slightly elevated Prolactin level, all blood tests came back normal as well. Dr. H's hypothesis as to what was causing my lactation was unusual: He told me that it was possible head trauma I received in a car accident a few months before the initial onset could have been the cause.

"Will I be able to have Children?" I remembering asking him as I tried to hide my hands from shaking.

"You won't know until you try!" He chuckled in a detached, impersonal, almost mocking tone.

I slinked out of the exam room.

What Diagnosis?

Very long story short. As a result of the car accident, I had previously hired an attorney after the at-fault-party's insurance company refused to pay the damages on the car I was driving. (Despite the police report indicating clearly, that she was the cause.) As a part of the legal process I had to declare any recent medical conditions to my attorney. Once he learned of Dr. D's hypothesis, he quickly subpoenaed my medical records.

We quickly discovered that while Dr. D had previous noted in my records he thought the car accident was to blame, only one day after he received the subpoena for my records he made a note in my file indicating a diagnosis change "based on further evidence." What evidence? I will never know. I had not had any more tests. There was no additional evidence mentioned in my file. To this day, I firmly believe that he changed my diagnosis because he did not want to testify in court.

I never went back to see Dr. H again. And while I am sure that I could have done damage to his medical stature in the community with the documentation I had copies of, I was mostly embarrassed and just wanted the situation to go away. I felt Dr. H was responsible for making me "out myself" as a spontaneously-and-inexplicably-lactating-woman to a bunch of greedy, heartless, attorneys.

I was young. I was ashamed.

Eventually, life went back to normal. I recovered from my body's reliance to Zoloft and Parlodel. And except for very rare vertigo, I experienced virtually zero side effects from Dostinex. I still take Dostinex, once a week, to this very day.

Now What?!

Flash forward two years: I begin to notice I am retaining fluid in my abdomen. I constantly feel nauseated. My stomach is large and distended, and my sister jokingly remarks that I look about 6 months pregnant. She was right, I did...

Part III of IV, V will follow tomorrow.

Seriously this time. It is already written.

I just could not burden you with that much text/reading at one time.
It is a lot of information to absorb in one sitting.