CHAPTER 73

2025-08-06

Life's shocks are one greater than the next, and the pain of both body and mind is most severe in the heart.

I apologize and want to make a correction. Last weekend, half asleep, I suddenly realized that I hadn't been thinking clearly. I had mixed up the dates for the side effects of anti-rejection drugs and psychiatric medications and included them in the 72nd article, "Reflections on Hospitalization (Part 2)." This misled everyone. The side effects of hair loss and hair growth are related to the anti-rejection drugs taken after the liver transplant, while diarrhea and constipation are related to psychiatric medications. I will correct the original text.

Speaking of psychiatric medications, the wrong medications prescribed by the "incompetent" doctor have exacerbated my nervousness, anxiety, fear, and mental acuity. I recently discovered that the symptoms I had before being admitted to the hospital for the medication change were consistent with those of patients with serotonin deficiency. You can find out by searching online.

After I was admitted to the hospital, the doctor prescribed the same sedatives Lun had taken since the summer of 2002, when he suffered depression. It was meant to calm his mood and help him sleep more easily. This medication also treats pruritus, and discontinuation must be gradual, otherwise it can trigger seizures. We made this mistake afterward, causing Lun to have seizures. At the time, we thought he was "dead" and needed to call for emergency medical services.

During my illness, my senior told me that the "organic" basis of typical clinical depression required medication. I was very resistant. First, I was already taking a lot of medication, which was taxing my organs. Second, psychiatric medications have many side effects, and less is better. Third, it takes time for the body to adapt to psychiatric medications, and I was extremely anxious and couldn't wait.

Looking back now, weeks flew by in the blink of an eye, but with fear in my heart, time quickly seemed long and difficult.

When it comes to anxiety, medication also plays a role. I remember a time when Lun would come home for a weekend getaway and ask me to help him set up a tent in the living room. It was 12 feet by 8 feet and 66 inches high, taking up the entire living room. Setting it up and collapsing it was a real hassle. My wife and I happened to be seeing the family doctor, so we asked him for advice. He asked if Lun was taking a certain brand of cough syrup, and we said yes. He instructed us to change Lun's medication, and after that, Lun stopped being the "Shogun" and stopped telling me what to do.

My gluttonous and active nature, my parents' upbringing, my siblings' support, my healthy, happy, and self-disciplined upbringing—the experiences I accumulated and the foundation I laid—helped me cope with difficult times. But the shocks grew stronger, the physical and especially the mental pain weighed heavily on my heart, and I eventually collapsed.

Less than a year after my traumatic brain injury, at the end of November 2017, I was still recuperating. My mother and father were already elderly, nearly 87 and 90, respectively. My mother had been diagnosed with dementia for over four years and had become acutely ill. My father had also begun to show signs of dementia. It was time to devote our full attention to caring for them. However, the six brothers were no longer united, and our choices were divergent. With the exception of my fourth brother and me, the others were fighting to divide the inheritance as quickly as possible and to increase its value. Suspicion and conflict arose, creating endless strife and endless peace. I was unable to rest and recuperate. Sixteen months later, an incident triggered a bout of depression.