Valerie Bell's Story

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http://www.benzo.org.uk/

 

Valerie Bell's Story

 

The only answer is to stop taking these evil drugs

 

This is my very long story of benzo problems. The main reason for telling it is

to try to help others to come off these evil drugs.

 

Please, whatever hits you, and for how ever long, even if advised by the doctor,

NEVER DO WHAT I DID. Every time you come off them it gets worse and God knows

for how long.

 

Except for one occasion I had never visited the doctor in 42 years but my

medical file since I started the benzos is so thick you almost need a

wheelbarrow to carry it. I have seen 33 different psychiatrists and doctors as

well as addiction specialists and taken every kind of alternative medicine you

can think of. The only specialist I have not seen is a vet - well not yet

anyway!

 

I was first prescribed benzos in 1984. In August I had been away with friends on

holiday and had a fabulous time except for a few panicky feelings, but they

weren't too bad.

 

On 15 September 1984 we were at a party and I had a really bad panic attack. I

also felt quite depressed. I had been on a very strict diet and I think with

hindsight this was the problem. I then made my first of many mistakes. I went to

see a psychiatrist. Fourteen years earlier I had had a panic attack and a doctor

had put me on Ativan which freaked me out. I felt fear, unreality,

hallucinations, agoraphobia, deep depression etc from it. I was terrified of

this happening again and because in those days we didn't know what we know today

I thought it had to be me. I thought I would be put away. Fortunately I was

introduced to one of the few psychiatrists that didn't like benzos and he took

me off them without too much pain.

 

For the next 14 years I had a wonderful life, beautiful home, ran my own

florist's business, had a terrific social life, happy marriage and lived life to

the full.

 

Like everyone else when life is going well you start to look for problems -

something has to go wrong. I started to worry about our financial situation and

I felt we were living beyond our means. I started to worry every time a bill

came through the door. My mother, whom I adored, had died of cancer and I

suppose this also took more out of me than I realised at the time.

 

Back to 1984. Of course I didn't realise that going to see this psychiatrist was

just the start of my problems. I saw him privately because I thought that's how

you get the best treatment.

 

The first thing he prescribed me was Xanax, the worst of the lot I later

discovered. He assured me that it was a new drug from America and not a benzo.

 

Over the next two years he continually increased the dose, I went up to 4mg a

day and to this he added a strong antidepressant, Marplan, a MAOI. I continued

to live half a life; I was either high or low, had long bouts of unreality which

I got used to living with. I suppose after two years of taking this combination

of drugs my system had learnt how to cope with them and I more or less levelled

out. I went to Australia for a lovely holiday and carried on with life in what I

thought was a normal way. This would probably have gone on for years had it not

been for our local pharmacist. A new owner had taken over and he pointed out

that, in his opinion, these pills would end up killing me.

 

Back I went to the psychiatrist that got me off them the first time. He

immediately sent me for a liver function test and started me on another

withdrawal program. It wasn't too bad. I had some bad days but nothing I

couldn't cope with. I had the usual hot sweats and my hair fell out in clumps

but I managed to carry on a fairly normal life.

 

During the next 2-3 years things started to go downhill. My feet would go numb;

I had unreality, depersonalisation and depression but at least I was by now off

the Xanax and the Marplan was down to 2mgs from 8.

 

It was at this time that along with hundreds of other sufferers we started legal

action against the drug companies. We all had to get an independent report on

our history of benzo use. This in my case was of course with another

psychiatrist. He agreed that all my problems were from the overprescribing of

Xanax but he also advised me to come off the last 2 mgs of Marplan. He felt

these could also cause problems in the future. He sent me to see yet another

psychiatrist in a local private clinic called " The Priory " . I went twice a week

for about six weeks.

 

Because my family thought that by paying for the best you get the best, by now

we were broke as I was unable to work. They insisted on paying the £200 a day.

It is, as you can imagine, a complete waste of money. Every time I saw a doctor

that was extra. Most of the other patients had what I suppose are " normal "

mental health problems such as personality disorders, anorexia or other eating

disorders, etc. No one else had a problem with benzos and I don't think they had

a clue what was wrong with me. They had us sitting round in circles discussing

our problems and drawing things that made us angry. It was a total waste of

money. That all happened over ten years ago and I don't think they have much

more of a clue about benzos today. At least for the first time in years I was

drug free. I thought this was the end of my problems but how wrong I was!

 

About a month after this I was at a party when I started to feel unwell. This is

where the real horror story starts. I was constantly violently sick and had

chronic diarrhoea at the same time. Back came the unreality, the

depersonalisation and the depression. My brain was like a computer out of

control. Fear poured out of my stomach. I was hallucinating and every nerve in

my body jerked and screamed. My heart beat so fast I thought it would come out

of my body. I had constant panic attacks, could not sit still, had to walk for

miles, continually going behind a tree to be sick. I could hardly see. It was as

though I was in a tunnel.

 

After a few weeks of this the symptoms eased but I was still very poorly so my

family once again insisted I see some one else. They could not believe that all

these problems came from coming off the drugs. There had to be something

seriously wrong with me. Yet another private psychiatrist was called in.

Although by now we were in constant contact with people running benzo self help

groups I refused to believe that all of this hell was a belated withdrawal from

the Xanax.

 

The first thing the latest psychiatrist suggested was shock treatment. I was

terrified. My husband had always said it was the benzos. I think the

psychiatrist knew that as well, and I asked her to prescribe Valium to prove the

point. Although she was reluctant to do this she gave me a prescription for 20mg

a day. I decided to take as little as possible. Steve, my husband, wasn't really

happy with me taking any but by then he had had just about as much as he could

take. I took what I thought was a small dose (7½mg a day) and after just a few

hours I was, to my surprise, completely well again.

 

We were by now totally broke and living in a caravan. Once again I was feeling

on top of the world and when we were offered the chance to run a local hotel we

jumped at it. Another terrible mistake - about as stressful you can get. At

first I loved it but after a while the withdrawal started up again. It started

with what I thought was the flu but soon developed into full blown withdrawal.

All the old terrible symptoms came back again. We left the hotel and I took to

my bed. I stayed there for months. Again I could take no more and, against

advice, increased the Valium to 15mg. Once again I was my old self, running the

dog round the park etc. telling myself that this time I would avoid all stress

and come off them very slowly.

 

As we still had no income and I was determined not to go on social security we

opened another shop with money an aunt had left me. I thought that being

occupied doing the job I loved would be the answer, and, as long as I didn't get

too stressed out everything would be OK. Wrong. Four months after opening the

shop it all started again. First the unreality returned and I couldn't bear to

be with people, and then the rest of the symptoms came back. I had of course

reached my tolerance level again.

 

I was forced to give up the shop and once again I became a recluse, seeing no

one for the next 20 months, most of the time just sitting rocking and crying. I

became violent and aggressive, smashing furniture etc. I thought I was really

going mad this time. Once again the family insisted we call in someone else -

again the best that money could buy. I had, by then, managed to reduce to 6mg

but I had become totally suicidal. This new psychiatrist convinced us that all

the others we had seen knew nothing about benzos, and, that if we stuck with

him, he would finally solve my problems. His treatment consisted of my going up

to 30mg Valium a day, but this time I must see a cognitive therapist while

reducing. I was so desperate I would have done anything. It all seemed to make

sense to my family who had always said it was my personality that was the

problem. I could never do things by halves and always overdid things.

 

By now a familiar pattern was developing. Every time I increased my dose I had a

few months of normality and then I would go back into withdrawal. We now know

that this is exactly what happens to everyone. Once you reach tolerance level

you go back into withdrawal. The psychiatrist convinced us that there was an

amount you could take to level out and either stay on them or come off them

very, very slowly. He eventually got me up to 125mg a day, saying that this was

a common amount in America. Our GP had already said that I needed benzos like

everyone else needs oxygen so I didn't argue and just took them. Yet another

fatal mistake for which I can only blame myself. I just wanted so much to

believe him.

 

Christmas Day was not too bad but by New Year's Eve I was once again housebound.

It all started again but I was on 125mg. Needless to say this latest

psychiatrist dumped me. Suddenly he was no longer available and when I did

manage to get hold of him he just said I must grit my teeth and get off them!

Another £3000 down the drain and I was then in a far worse state.

 

I became very suicidal; I couldn't see anybody or go anywhere. I just stared at

the floor most of the time.

 

I gritted my teeth, as he told me to, and for another 20 months or so I steadily

reduced, again getting down to about 7mg.

 

I then made the worst and most costly mistake to date. We heard through the

Internet about a doctor in California who had developed a method of getting

people off benzos with a combination of acupuncture and Novocain injections.

This dulled the pain, he told us. A lady we spoke to had been to him with the

same problem and now she was completely well. The doctor told us it didn't

matter how much I was on, so, in order to face the journey I once again, against

everyone's advice, increased my dose back up to 125mg, thinking this would only

be for a day or two.

 

The treatment involved coming off almost cold turkey while having a lot of very

painful injections. This was in conjunction with taking a lot of Chinese herbs.

Within three weeks I was down to 10mg and I really believed this time we had the

answer. Anyone who has been on benzos will know what comes next. I hit the floor

in a big way.

 

At the time we were staying with my half sister not far from the doctor's

surgery. Unfortunately she was selling the house at the time so I could not take

to my bed. We also had our return ticket booked and, because we were only

allowed to stay for 90 days, I was compelled once again to increase my dose. I

levelled out on 75mgs and, at least for the remainder of our stay (about 6

weeks), I was able to do some wonderful things.

 

I tell myself that all the money that it had cost my family to send me there

wasn't completely wasted - even if that wasn't the idea of going. At least I had

had a long and much needed holiday. In order to face the flight home I was again

forced to increase my dose to 125mg. For a couple of months after our return I

was able to have a semblance of life before it all hit me again. I am now once

again housebound and in full withdrawal.

 

To date I have managed to reduce to 40mg and with the help of friends in the

Benzo Group I am determined to do it this time. I have no one to blame for the

mess I am in but myself. I was told years ago by ex-benzo addicts that the only

answer is to stop taking these evil drugs and this time that is exactly what I

intend to do - without the help of all those so called experts that, in the

main, are only interested in our money.

 

I am sorry that this is such a long and rambling story, but it has helped me

just to share it with all of you.

 

Love and God Bless,

Valerie Bell

November 12, 2001

 

 

 

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