when the Seroquel is in her blood & the blood is in her head...

Yesterday, I had to perform an abortion. No, not "killing babies", but the remove by intervention a problem with our relationship: a drug, specifically Seroquel. (In spite of which, I still say: FUCK SCIENTOLOGY!) Although this med has done wonders for my sleep, calming, soothing, relaxing, when Trish started to take it, she turned into Cranky Bear. Big time. Over the weekend, she spent the whole morning arguig about an improperly-fried egg; yesterday, it was a box of cereal.

Karen had me call down to Electric City, in order to see what to do about it. Perhaps sensing my anxiety, my savage dread, Jackie responded with awesome super-speed, calling back within the hour. She then discussed the issue with Doc Larocque, who agreed that Seroquel does not work well for Trish

She came home with a surly expression & attitude, but accepted the Doctor's advice, something that David & the Skinny Dog would never do -- "Oh, honey, quit taking your addictive experimental antidepressants. They ruin lives! They ruin lives!"

So she settle down a lot for the rest of the day, then wanted to perform divers acts of naughtiness on my bodanon. I took a Viagra at 8:00, then Karen called at 9:00 to touch bases, just when the Viagra had begun to kick in.

It both satisfied & frustrated me. Even with this awesome treatment for impotence, my atomic dong still turns into the Bender Shaft.

I want a new drug!