by Clifford Kurt

Created on: July 13, 2009

I was so sad. But this was a different sadness. This time, the blues manifested physically, because it actually hurt in 4 of my toes (3 on the right foot, 1 the ring toe on the left foot). And it hurt in my spleen.

I tried the usual home remedies: a Three Stooges marathon (it feels weird to be sad AND laughing); a Kurt Russell film (it feels weird to be sad AND nauseated); a few beers (it feels normal to be sad AND drunk). Nothing beat back the sadness.

Then I saw an advertisement for Cymbalta, an anti-depression medication. The following is the verbatim text of the advertisement. Read it carefully, especially the disclaimers:

Where does depression hurt? Everywhere. Who does depression hurt? Everyone. Depression is emotional. Sadness, loss of interest. And it's physical, too. Aches, pains, fatigue. Cymbalta can help.
Cymbalta is a prescription medication that treats emotional and painful physical symptoms of depression.
Tell your doctor right away if your depression worsens, you have unusual changes in behavior or thoughts of suicide. Anti-depressants can increase these in children, teens or young adults. Cymbalta is not approved for children under 18. People taking thyrozidene or who have uncontrolled glaucoma should not take Cymbalta. Taking it with anside pain relievers, aspirin or blood thinners may increase bleeding risk. Severe liver problems, some fatal, were reported. Signs include abdominal pain and yellowing of the skin or eyes. Talk with your doctor about medications, including those for migraine, to avoid a possible life-threatening condition, about alcohol use, liver disease, or before you reduce or stop taking Cymbalta. Dizziness or fainting may occur upon standing. Side effects include nausea, dry mouth and constipation.
Ask your doctor about Cymbalta. Depression hurts. Cymbalta can help.

Upon listening to that ad, I became even more depressed. I couldn't imagine going on this medication. The fears of side effects alone would send me into a deep spiral of depression, like that time my prom date kept forgetting my name.

Despite my trepidation, I needed relief. So I went down to the black market drug area of East Austin, hoping to score some street Cymbalta.

I asked one hombre, You got any Cymbalta? He said, Si, twenty I get you simbata, taquerio simbata. I gave him my $20 bill, and he came back with two breakfast tacos and a miga. What the hell?

I ate the food and felt momentarily better, but I knew this would only kill the

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