pigless in VA
Well-Known Member
Hello cyber friends. I know I made an attempt to describe what happened to husband once before and life side-tracked me. I think I thought I was ready to talk about it and discovered that it was too painful. I'll give it another shot as I know sometimes reading the stories here helps people in ways that we can't imagine.
husband was brilliant in math and science and worked for the state in a respected position. He did tell me that he had a history of mental illness and that he had been hospitalized 7 times. He had been diagnosed as schizophrenic, a diagnosis which he rejected. His explanation was that drugs and alcohol were responsible for his many hospitalizations. To his credit, he abstained from alcohol even to the bitter end.
husband's official diagnosis was chronic depression. He tried pretty much every anti-depressant but they really didn't seem to help much. The last psychiatrist he used was a complete putz. Somehow husband convinced him that he needed concerta which he then abused. He would gobble it like candy and then run completely out with a resulting crash. Also, he was an insomniac and went through the rounds of various sleeping medications. (Gee, maybe the AD and concerta combo might be interfering with sleep.)
The last year of his life, husband was experiencing chronic leg pain. Here's where I made an egregious error. He asked me if he could use marijuana to help alleviate the pain. I hated the idea for a variety of reasons, but I reluctantly agreed as long as he went out to the shed to smoke.
I had lived with husband for 12 years and never seen him manic. Severely depressed, yes, often. He spent most of his time at home keeping the bed from levitating. Within a month or so of adding weed into the already poorly working medication mix, he started cycling. I mention the marijuana use, because it made husband SO much sicker. I was always one of the legalize marijuana proponents. Everyone I had ever seen use it was mellow, calm, and harmless. I considered it to be a better choice than alcohol after having seen so many bitter, angry drunks. Not so for husband. He became paranoid, delusional and suicidal.
That summer I had planned to take the kids somewhere fun for a few days. husband wanted to stay at home to be left alone. The night before I was to leave, he threatened to kill himself while we were gone. I called the police. He willingly went to the psychiatric hospital. I took the kids away anyway and called often to check on him. When I brought him home, he seemed positive. I did note that everyone in the hospital seemed to like him which I thought was extremely odd. husband was an extreme introvert and for him to make a bunch of friends in a week's time seemed out of character.
About a week later was the psychotic break. We were watching a movie which he did not seem to be able to follow. The woman in the movie was deliberately humiliating her husband publically, and husband got confused between me and what was happening in the movie. He thought I was the woman in the movie, and he was being humiliated. He locked the kids in the bedroom with him and told them I was "evil" and he had to keep them away from me. I managed to talk him into opening the door. I did not call the police that night, although, I now know I should have. Mental illness is confusing. I was terrified and befuddled and didn't really know what to do. The next day he went willingly with me to see his therapist.
Again, no medication changes. (In summary, in the span of two weeks the man is suicidal and psychotic and we'll just keep those medications the same.)
husband continued to spiral up or down depending upon your perspective. By Halloween night he had truly become weird. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses constantly and dancing everywhere. I had never even seen him dance before; he had always been serious, shy and stoic.
The turning point for me was a simple trip to Radio Shack. husband was driving and got cut-off. He began tailgaitng a vehicle and then speeding down city streets, weaving in and out of traffic and running red lights. I begged him to slow down, easy child was in the car, and he said, "I am the best driver in the world. I can taste the road." We miraculously made it to Radio Shack without hitting anyone. I was shaking uncontrollably and holding easy child. One of the employees called the police. The responding officer did not believe husband was dangerous as he agreed to allow me to drive home.
(taking a little break - will resume later)
husband was brilliant in math and science and worked for the state in a respected position. He did tell me that he had a history of mental illness and that he had been hospitalized 7 times. He had been diagnosed as schizophrenic, a diagnosis which he rejected. His explanation was that drugs and alcohol were responsible for his many hospitalizations. To his credit, he abstained from alcohol even to the bitter end.
husband's official diagnosis was chronic depression. He tried pretty much every anti-depressant but they really didn't seem to help much. The last psychiatrist he used was a complete putz. Somehow husband convinced him that he needed concerta which he then abused. He would gobble it like candy and then run completely out with a resulting crash. Also, he was an insomniac and went through the rounds of various sleeping medications. (Gee, maybe the AD and concerta combo might be interfering with sleep.)
The last year of his life, husband was experiencing chronic leg pain. Here's where I made an egregious error. He asked me if he could use marijuana to help alleviate the pain. I hated the idea for a variety of reasons, but I reluctantly agreed as long as he went out to the shed to smoke.
I had lived with husband for 12 years and never seen him manic. Severely depressed, yes, often. He spent most of his time at home keeping the bed from levitating. Within a month or so of adding weed into the already poorly working medication mix, he started cycling. I mention the marijuana use, because it made husband SO much sicker. I was always one of the legalize marijuana proponents. Everyone I had ever seen use it was mellow, calm, and harmless. I considered it to be a better choice than alcohol after having seen so many bitter, angry drunks. Not so for husband. He became paranoid, delusional and suicidal.
That summer I had planned to take the kids somewhere fun for a few days. husband wanted to stay at home to be left alone. The night before I was to leave, he threatened to kill himself while we were gone. I called the police. He willingly went to the psychiatric hospital. I took the kids away anyway and called often to check on him. When I brought him home, he seemed positive. I did note that everyone in the hospital seemed to like him which I thought was extremely odd. husband was an extreme introvert and for him to make a bunch of friends in a week's time seemed out of character.
About a week later was the psychotic break. We were watching a movie which he did not seem to be able to follow. The woman in the movie was deliberately humiliating her husband publically, and husband got confused between me and what was happening in the movie. He thought I was the woman in the movie, and he was being humiliated. He locked the kids in the bedroom with him and told them I was "evil" and he had to keep them away from me. I managed to talk him into opening the door. I did not call the police that night, although, I now know I should have. Mental illness is confusing. I was terrified and befuddled and didn't really know what to do. The next day he went willingly with me to see his therapist.
Again, no medication changes. (In summary, in the span of two weeks the man is suicidal and psychotic and we'll just keep those medications the same.)
husband continued to spiral up or down depending upon your perspective. By Halloween night he had truly become weird. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses constantly and dancing everywhere. I had never even seen him dance before; he had always been serious, shy and stoic.
The turning point for me was a simple trip to Radio Shack. husband was driving and got cut-off. He began tailgaitng a vehicle and then speeding down city streets, weaving in and out of traffic and running red lights. I begged him to slow down, easy child was in the car, and he said, "I am the best driver in the world. I can taste the road." We miraculously made it to Radio Shack without hitting anyone. I was shaking uncontrollably and holding easy child. One of the employees called the police. The responding officer did not believe husband was dangerous as he agreed to allow me to drive home.
(taking a little break - will resume later)
