The pharmacist who returned my call today acknowledged that this does happen "on rare occasions." She was lucky I'm feeling so much better that I didn't launch a tirade about how a categorization of an incident as "rare" is meaningless to the person to whom it occurs. Who CARES if it's rare? It happened to me and it's just as devastating to me as it would be if it happened to everybody! Grumble.
In any case, I'm back among the happy and stable now. The increased dosage seems to have stopped the little anxiety twangs altogether, so I'm asking my physician to change the prescription when I see her tomorrow. Like the physician said (the one who initially prescribed Prozac for me way back when) "If humans have the knowledge to create something beneficial, why not take advantage of it?"
As my mother says, "Why in the world would you want to suffer if you don't have to? We're not Catholic, you know."
A lifetime of dealing with depression has given me low expectations for the possibility that my emotional turmoil could ever go away completely.
I've often asked myself, "what would it be like to not feel this way ever?" I've had hints of what people who aren't crazy feel like, but I never expected to not feel sane all the time or over the long haul. There's always been some residual stuff going on in my head, which I accepted as normal.
After all, I'd never been without it; just to have it diminished is quite a gift.
It seems that it IS possible to feel good for hours on end. Whole days even, without having an anxiety attack over something that happened 40 years ago and everybody involved but me either has forgotten all about it, never gave it a second thought in the first place, or has died. This is remarkable, which is why I'm remarking about it.
The occasional hallucinations, lasting for a split second or two, are either a bonus or a side-effect, depending on your point of view, but have cleared up in any case.
Mostly, I just feel stable and happy. Consistently. I'm thrilled!