After I finished the out-patient clinic, I started seeing a psychiatrist who began by drawing a ton of blood from me, which she sent off for DNA testing among other things. I'm sure I don't have this all worded scientifically correct, but basically we discovered I had a defective gene in my liver which prevented production of the enzyme which would metabolize the anti-depressants I'd been taking for over 20 years.
Almost every anti-depressant I'd been prescribed used that particular genetic enzyme to work, but I didn't have it. I might as well have been taking a placebo. These tests have only been widely available for about the last three years, so if you're experiencing the same frustration of one useless anti-depressant after another, demand your DNA be tested.
An interesting side note to the defective gene: Knowing I'd had breast cancer, the report cautioned that I should not be given Tamoxifin as a follow-up to chemotherapy. It was metabolized by the same inoperable enzyme and would be useless. Back in 1995 when I had cancer, my oncologist prescribed Tamoxifin for me. My husband, who is one of the most mild-mannered of men, absolutely refused to let me take Tamoxifin. My family was probably a little pissed at him, thinking the doctor knew best, but my doctor appeased him and prescribed something else. The purpose of the Tamoxifin is to help in remission of the cancer. My taking it would have been totally pointless. Of course, the way I feel today, I'm not completely happy with that outcome, but I have to admit it kind of freaks me out.
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