"Savannah's Saga"

I quit smoking on Chantix after 22 years of chain smoking. I had my last cigarette on 9/26/07.

I made it through three months of non-smoking just fine, it was almost too easy, really. Not only did I handle the withdrawal great, but I lost weight. I looked better than I had in ages. People said I was "glowing."

I also had a temper from hell. I dumped my boyfriend of many years one day just because I was a little frustrated with our situation.

I then went out with someone else for a few times, maybe for 5 or 6 weeks tops. I've never been much for confrontation, and I normally get very stressed out when I show anger. But, this relationship ended with me absolutely screaming at him on the phone. And that seemed "normal" to me, at least at the time.

I cut off friends, I lost all interest in everything, and developed what I will always call "Chantix ADD." I had zero attention span, it was like I had suddenly developed attention deficit disorder! I couldn't focus on anything. I could not finish projects. My house got so messy it was gross. I could barely do my job as a college professor.

About week 5 or 6 of being on Chantix, I had an outburst at work that should have gotten me reprimanded (or maybe even fired, if I didn't have tenure already). My boss did something to upset me, which was not anything out of the ordinary, mind you, but this time I really lost it. I was swearing and screaming in front of students and colleagues.

My emotions were so "raw" I can't describe what it felt like. I was either really up or really down, and when I was down I just sobbed. I could not speak of anything that was remotely upsetting without starting to cry. Most people, including me, thought I was having some sort of breakdown.

My doctor NEVER warned me about side effects from Chantix, other than funky dreams and nausea. So I didn't have a clue Chantix might be doing this to me.

Around the first week of December (2007), I realized I was frequently forgetting my Chantix pill. The nicotine cravings were gone, and I felt pretty sure I could stay off the cigarettes. So, I just stopped taking it altogether. And that's when things got MUCH worse.

I got so depressed! I couldn't enjoy anything. I thought I had been kinda' down before, but this was new. I was so "flat" and felt empty inside. Nothing made me feel good, and even though Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, I couldn't enjoy it.

My parents came to see me right after Christmas, and my mother made the observation that I was quite different from before. That not only made me angry, but it made me wonder what she meant. I really don't know what I was like at the time, I just know I was pretty hateful, and curt, and I definitely wasn't me.

Suddenly, it was late January. I was even worse. I went to the doctor, and ranted and raved about how awful things were. He gave me anti-anxiety meds and sent me on my way, again not warning me that Chantix could be the culprit. The FDA had already sent warnings to doctors about Chantix side effects just like the ones I was having, but my doctor totally missed the signs. (I have since found a new doctor!)

I went to see a counselor I had seen before during some stressful times. I sat in his office and sobbed for 20 minutes about how horrible my life was, and how it was all hopeless. I told him I wasn't suicidal, but if I didn't have my little boy to take care of, I was pretty sure I would be. Chantix was still such a "darling" of the medical community that he didn't catch the signs, although he did think it was kind of strange that given my mood, I had managed to stay off cigarettes completely. That was my first real signal that maybe the problem wasn't me losing my mind, but something else entirely.

My darling boyfriend and I had remained friends, and he had been worried about me for some time. I had sobbed on his shoulder in December, and told him (inexplicably) that I was afraid I would end up losing my mind . I was really scared that someone would "find me sitting under the kitchen table, rocking back and forth and humming." I made him promise to look after me. He had tried to do that, even though I wasn't too receptive of his attention or concern.

By the time he was able to figure out that the problem was likely Chantix, it was too late for me. I stopped taking the anti-anxiety meds because I was afraid I'd end up dead from either an overdose or a toxic mixture with the beer I was using to drown my sorrows. As soon as I stopped taking those, I was suddenly awake.

After over 48 hours of absolutely NO sleep, I had some sort of manic breakdown. I was hallucinating, hearing strange noises and could even smell some funky smells. (I later had to take all the soaps and lotions that were in my bathroom, bag them up, and put them away because the fragrances brought back horrible memories of my brief trip to Nutville. I never could deal with those again, and gave them away to a friend who liked them).

Thinking the hospital e.r. would help me, I asked to go there. What I did NOT know was that the health care system was completely in denial about Chantix and what it would do. I voluntarily signed myself into a psychiatric hospital, where I was told that I was bipolar, that Chantix couldn't possibly be the problem, and, that I just needed lithium to be healthy again.

(If you've never taken lithium, trust me, it is NOT something you "just take." It has horrible side effects if you don't need it, and I sure as hell didn't need it!)

Thankfully, I had accrued a lot of sick leave at my job, my ex-husband was able to help with our son, my ex-boyfriend stood by me and my 70-year-old mom came to stay with me for a couple of weeks after I got out of the hospital. That was over 6 months ago, by the way. I have found a great M.D. who helped me get the right blend of medications to get me back to some semblance of normalcy.

But, I will never get over being handcuffed in an emergency room because I was having a major breakdown and the hospital didn't seem to believe that I was seriously falling apart.

I will never get over that pain in my head when I asked my boyfriend to take me to the hospital. "It's too late," I said, and stood up off the bed, pulled on jeans, and said "Take me to the e.r., now."

It felt like broken glass was rattling around inside my skull. Thoughts would race 100 m.p.h. in my head, and then go so slow they sounded like some warped voice from a horror movie. I could see myself locked away in a mental institution for life, and then suddenly have moments of clarity when I thought "Why am I here? I should really get it together."

I am convinced that I know what Dallas musician Carter Albrecht felt and saw when he had his attack and ended up getting shot.

Perhaps the worst thing, for me, is that my 10-year-old son had to see all of it. He lived with me during the Chantix time and thankfully I never took out the anger and craziness on him. But, he did see me fall apart and go to the E.R., and, he saw me handcuffed and manhandled by a police officer. He saw me that morning try to sleep, and comforted me as I woke up every few minutes screaming becuase there was something really scary haunting my dreams. He had to visit me for the "generous" hour that visitors were allowed each day at "the home" and spend weeks with me afterwards trying to recover from the indignity and abuse the hospital inflicted on me. Thankfully he is a strong and resilient young man and he loves me in spite of my weakness for cigarettes, which got me here in the first place.

I don't smoke anymore, but that's only because I do not EVER want to go back into a hospital again, or take a drug like Chantix. It has cost me almost a year of my life, and I'm still not sure if I am 100%. There are days I wonder.

Although I'm glad I don't smoke anymore, I am the first to admit that there are worse things than smoking. Like losing your damned mind, or your life (way before the emphasyma or cancer from smoking would get you).

If you decide to take Chantix, please make sure your family knows all the risks and side effects, and that they watch you EVERY SINGLE DAY. Have your doctor agree that if any of those people call him, he will intervene and help you.

The only thing worse than what I went through was being made to feel like I was crazy or wrong for even suggesting that Chantix was the culprit. In my opinion, the medical profession is too involved with Pfizer and other drug companies to admit that this might just be a nasty pill rather than a miracle drug.