Posts
As many of you already know, I currently reside in a community residence for people with mental illnesses. I have a co-occurring disorder: addiction along with major depressive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety disorder with panic disorder, and trichotillomania (trik-o-til-o-MAY-nee-uh) (a disorder that involves recurrent, irresistible urges to pull out hair from your scalp, eyebrows or other areas of your body, despite trying to stop). That last one took a long time to admit, but it's not the end of the world. Fortunately, I don't have any diagnoses that involve psychotic features. But one of my best friends does.
To protect her anonymity as much as I possibly can, I'm going to call her "Alice." She was diagnosed with schizophrenia in her second year of college. She's now 38 years old. We've known each other for three years, and lived together for two. Of all the people I'm friends with (and I have a lot of acquaintances, but not many who I count as friends), she's the most generous, thoughtful, funny, enthusiastic and supportive. I can always count on Alice to chill with me when I'm feeling blue, binge watch entire seasons of our favorite television shows (currently "Salem," we're on Season 2), co-sign my bullshit when I say that cake I bake myself has only 100 calories per (very large) slice, and tell me when my ass looks fat in a particular pair of jeans. She's a gem of a person. I've watched her struggle, and she was getting there. She was working and preparing to move to the next level of housing in this agency (the apartment program, where 3 women share a house, each with their own room, and no staff on site except for a few times a week). We've supported each other along the way, and she's just as happy about me moving to my new place (SPA housing, which is a little bit less intensive than the apartment program but not entirely on my own) as I am.
But here's the thing with schizophrenia, and many other mental illnesses: you just never know when the shit is going to hit the fan.
A few weeks back, Alice's medication regimen was changed. She'd been super, super sick and in the hospital for a few months (this was last year). While she was there, they put her on a completely new lineup of meds. When she got home, she was still a mess, but then, one day, out of the blue, the "Old Alice" emerged, and it was a joy to behold. She was absolutely fine. So why the doctor decided to ditch one of the meds that had gotten her back, I do not understand. That happens a lot when people with these illnesses manage their own meds - we think we're better, so we think we don't need the meds, when meanwhile, the meds are the reason we're better - but for a doctor to do it just baffles me.
In the weeks following the change, I told staff repeatedly that I thought Alice was acting "off." She was just not herself, and it was clear that something was not right. I know that I'm not a psychiatrist or any kind of mental health professional, but I've been her roommate long enough to know when something is going on. Alice, of course, said she was fine. She always says she's fine. But she wasn't.
For the past 3 days, the girl has been gradually declining to the point where she now has almost no grasp on reality. She's talking to herself, in gibberish, she's singing to the paint, she's not sleeping. She had to quit her job. All of the staff here NOW agrees that something is wrong. Everybody thinks she needs to be hospitalized, except for the doctor, who says no. The same doctor that took away the medication that had made her stable in the first place.
Here's my thing. If we live in a house where there is staff in place to keep us safe, then shouldn't it ultimately be the decision of the staff whether or not Alice goes to the hospital? Or, at the very least, to the psychiatric emergency room, where she can be evaluated in person by a physician? Because her current psychiatrist has made this call based entirely on one telephone conversation, and not even a conversation with Alice, but a conversation with a staff member. I mean, the girl hasn't slept in three whole days. I feel like, at the very least, they should bring her to the ER, sedate her, and force some rest on her poor, tired body.
The auditory hallucinations are probably the scariest thing, and they're the most common symptom in schizophrenia. The goal is to not only reduce the occurrence of "the voices," but to also teach coping mechanisms and reinforce that the person doesn't have to obey, or even acknowledge, the hallucinations. But I can't talk to Alice right now, because Alice isn't there.
It saddens me that her own doctor is so very adamant that she remain outside the hospital. I know why he's doing it - this particular doctor doesn't like to have any of his patients hospitalized, because it will reflect poorly on his choice to change the medication regimen that was working in the first place. Also, Alice is one of his "stars," because she was doing so well. But at what cost?
Whether you realize it or not, you know someone with a mental illness. We all do. Every last person in this country is affected in some way by mental illness, and we need to educate ourselves. Alice needs a voice right now, since her doctor doesn't seem to want to use his on her behalf. I am grateful that the staff at this house sees the need, and will probably just take her to the hospital by the end of the day. But how many are out there right now, alone, singing to the paint and not being heard? We all need to stand up and use our voices so that they can be heard.
For more information, please visit The National Institute of Mental Health's page on schizophrenia. And for ways you can help to end the stigma and help give all mentally ill people a voice, please visit the National Alliance on Mental Illness and see how you can get involved. If you won't do it for me, do it for Alice. Or for the Alice that you may not even know you know - and love.
For the past 3 days, the girl has been gradually declining to the point where she now has almost no grasp on reality. She's talking to herself, in gibberish, she's singing to the paint, she's not sleeping. She had to quit her job. All of the staff here NOW agrees that something is wrong. Everybody thinks she needs to be hospitalized, except for the doctor, who says no. The same doctor that took away the medication that had made her stable in the first place.
Here's my thing. If we live in a house where there is staff in place to keep us safe, then shouldn't it ultimately be the decision of the staff whether or not Alice goes to the hospital? Or, at the very least, to the psychiatric emergency room, where she can be evaluated in person by a physician? Because her current psychiatrist has made this call based entirely on one telephone conversation, and not even a conversation with Alice, but a conversation with a staff member. I mean, the girl hasn't slept in three whole days. I feel like, at the very least, they should bring her to the ER, sedate her, and force some rest on her poor, tired body.
The auditory hallucinations are probably the scariest thing, and they're the most common symptom in schizophrenia. The goal is to not only reduce the occurrence of "the voices," but to also teach coping mechanisms and reinforce that the person doesn't have to obey, or even acknowledge, the hallucinations. But I can't talk to Alice right now, because Alice isn't there.
It saddens me that her own doctor is so very adamant that she remain outside the hospital. I know why he's doing it - this particular doctor doesn't like to have any of his patients hospitalized, because it will reflect poorly on his choice to change the medication regimen that was working in the first place. Also, Alice is one of his "stars," because she was doing so well. But at what cost?
Whether you realize it or not, you know someone with a mental illness. We all do. Every last person in this country is affected in some way by mental illness, and we need to educate ourselves. Alice needs a voice right now, since her doctor doesn't seem to want to use his on her behalf. I am grateful that the staff at this house sees the need, and will probably just take her to the hospital by the end of the day. But how many are out there right now, alone, singing to the paint and not being heard? We all need to stand up and use our voices so that they can be heard.
For more information, please visit The National Institute of Mental Health's page on schizophrenia. And for ways you can help to end the stigma and help give all mentally ill people a voice, please visit the National Alliance on Mental Illness and see how you can get involved. If you won't do it for me, do it for Alice. Or for the Alice that you may not even know you know - and love.
No comments:
Post a Comment