Break your own rules, suffer the consequences.
So the doctor said OK. Wrote out a prescription. “Give it a try. Give it 30 days to take full effect. Come back in six weeks.”
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
Day 0: Go to the pharmacy. This stuff is expensive–60 bucks for a 30-day supply. What price happiness? I’ve gone this far. Go the rest of the way.
That night I want a glass of wine. I want it desperately, physically, viscerally. Alcohol is out when you do Prozac, so I tell myself no. But I’m not a heavy drinker. I can’t remember a time when I ever wanted a drink that badly. This is not starting out well. I’m sleepy early. I go to bed at ten.
Day 16: I notice I’m making a lot of typing mistakes. I catch myself using the wrong words. I probably need more sleep. I go to bed at 8:30, but wake up frequently during the night.
Day 33: Back to the doctor. Doctor isn’t happy with parts of my neurological exam. Doctor gets grim when I talk about coming up with the wrong words when speaking, making too many typos. “Let’s take you off the Prozac. If there’s no improvement in two weeks we’ll have to send you for a brain scan.”
The moral of the story (pick one): There’s no such thing as a free lunch. We make our own happiness. Forget about better living through chemistry. Don’t believe everything you read, especially in feature stories.
