It is Friday afternoon, and part of my preparation for the weekend is a trip to the nearest supermarket to stock up on fruit and vegetables. I spend half an hour chopping up a tempting bowl of celery, carrot, cucumber and sweet pepper before I go to collect my daughter from school. The bowl will no doubt be empty by the time she has finished catching up on Torchwood, so I have a pound of grapes ready to keep her going through the dry patch before dinner. My store cupboard is filled up with quick filling snacks of ready-to-heat lentils and wholewheat couscous.
Take an ordinary healthy teenage appetite and multiply it by a factor of three, and you will get close to what it is like to live on Olanzapine. Julie is permanently and ravenously hungry and never feels full. Our current strategy is to combat it with fruit and veg and healthy options, but it is hard work and she needs help. It breaks down in all the places where you might expect, and some you wouldn't: of course the school canteen does serve delicious high-fat, high-sugar puddings (well it caters to teenagers), but so does the hospital unit (which of course also caters for teenagers, some of which have eating problems that are at the other end of the spectrum). The gym has a vending machine with high-calorie drinks, which Julie did not realise were a problem, and of course teenagers nowadays like to socialize over a latte, or a milkshake. Not to mention coming home to a brother who is skinny as a rake and has his own ginormous appetite and store of biscuits.
With a huge amount of effort - packed lunches, and a fridge groaning with vegetables - we have managed to stabilize the weight gain. This is a little victory for us, but Julie is probably going to have to adjust to being a few dress sizes bigger than she is used to. It is disconcerting to change shape so suddenly - something many women remember from pregnancy. The good news is that fifteen year old girls can look pretty fabulous whatever size they are - in fact they can really suit those extra curves - so when I sing up her praises to boost her confidence I'm not actually having to make it up. With all this fruit and veg, her skin and hair are glowing. But clothes were a problem initially when she simply grew straight out of almost everything she possessed, so I took her shopping last weekend and made a rule that she was to trust me and not look at the sizes on the labels. After a couple of rounds in the changing rooms she looked great - as long as your clothes fit, you look Ok, no matter what their size. Thank goodness for Primark and H&M!
But why all this fuss about putting on a little bit of weight? When you're recovering from an illness that is, let's face it, life-threatening, why do you care too much about a few extra pounds? The answer is that Julie might be on Olanzapine for years - some people will use a medication for decades. Over that length of time, weight gain becomes not just an irritation, but life-threatening - diabetes is a serious risk. No one wants to see their daughter recover from one awful illness, only to face a lifetime of debilitating physical illness if it can be avoided.

I'm so pleased (if that is the right way to put it) that someone else has addressed this. When I have been discussing meds with doctors, I have brought up the issue of weight gain - in my early 20's I piled on weight due to meds and have no desire to repeat that. They assume I am just being vain, but it is more than that - I spend so much time being ill, I feel no need to add weight related helath problems on top of that.
ReplyDeleteThe thing I found, as well, was that the sedative effects made me want to eat high energy foods, in an attempt to give myself more energy, so it became a vicious circle.
I agree - its not vanity, its common-sense that you want to feel in control of how you present yourself to the world. Even more so when you're feeling down. Interesting point about wanting high energy foods - i must remember that. I guess its the body's instinct to go for something to solve what feels like a permanent energy crisis.
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