“Just gimme the Prozac and let me outa here.”

In a clinic where most people were indigent and needed more than twenty clinics could give them (food, shelter, friends, job) this woman was well dressed and snappy.  She looked a little like some petite actress, maybe Holly Hunter, playing a businesswoman.  

In fact, she told me that she was a real estate broker and was not producing enough so that was the proof that she really needed her Prozac.  She had been on it for a while, in steadily increasing doses, and now was on 60 mg.  Over a couple of years, her dose had slowly been raised from the fairly standard 20mg.

It was a treatment for depression.  I had no way — except notes written by previous psychiatrists long-gone — to figure out how depressed she had been when she had actually started on Prozac. And the old notes weren’t much help. Read more on “Just gimme the Prozac!”…