Diagnosis Schizophrenia

GARY

GARY: A lot of this is going to be distorted because it’s not on my mind like it once was, but three years ago this would have been fresh on my memory. I think I had a pretty stressful year prior to the illness, but as I was living that year I didn’t think so. Five years ago I graduated from high school. Immediately after that I got my driver’s license and started working. Work was very stressful. I would work between 3 p.m. and midnight. Sometimes, there were days I worked eleven or twelve hours straight. Even though I was a pretty good student in high school, I was not prepared for college. I devoted less time to college than to work, so I didn’t do so well. The first semester I ended up with a D, a C–, a C+, and a B–. This was different from the grades I had in high school, but it makes sense since I was spending less time on college than I had on high school. My second semester I took fourteen credits with the same crazy work schedule. My job was stressful, dealing with customers and the various procedures involved. It was spring four years ago when I failed two tests for one class, something I had never done before. I met with the professor and he gave me the opportunity to take it as an incomplete. I explained that to my father. He was kind of shocked, but he told me not to tell my mother. So all that summer it was on the tip of my mind—not that my mother would have been mad at me for failing a class. After my first two semesters I was placed on academic probation. That was very stressful. The threat at the time was that they would dismiss me from school. When I was nineteen years old I thought that was the end of the world, not working or going to school. But that was a nineteen-year-old reality.

Before I got sick I found myself studying more and more. I wasn’t aware there was a problem. In October I was studying for midterms. I look back now and it’s hard for me to believe what happened. I was admitted to the hospital on Thursday. On Sunday night prior to that I’d had trouble sleeping and had racing thoughts. I didn’t think anything was wrong at the time. I just remember being really happy lying in bed that night. My breathing and heart rate started getting faster. I tried calming myself by pacing myself to my father’s snoring in the next room. The next day when I came back from school I had to drive my brother somewhere. He told me I was driving fast and I stopped the car fast. I was listening to the radio, and I remember feeling very soothed by it. The song playing was “Up on the Roof.” I was blasting it. That night again I had racing thoughts. That Tuesday I went to meet with the academic advisor. I was talking to her and I was saying outlandish stuff. I remember saying to her stuff that was very embarrassing for her. She replied, “Are you on drugs?” I said, “No.” I remember sitting in her office. There was a bee in the window and I remember her being scared of the bee. I was thinking it was the same bee that had stung me several days before. Later, in class, I handed in a paper that reflected all my delusions. I remember writing something that was very metaphorical for one of my classes. I thought it made sense, but my mother thought I was very angry and it didn’t make a lot of sense. I was sitting with friends who were taking a class with me, and I remember thinking that I was actually able to read their minds. I thought they were able to read my mind as well. They thought I was kidding around. As I left school that day I couldn’t find my car. Finally I found it and returned home. I went to play the lottery, ten dollars’ worth of the same numbers. I was picking the numbers out for one hour, and my father thought something was wrong. Then I really thought I was going to win. I remember taking a picture of [the ticket] to use as a press release for the newspapers. This was the third day into the episode, when my parents realized something was wrong. I thought I was making sense, but obviously I wasn’t: I said, “See all the posters in my room, they all form a whole, and they are all interconnected.” My parents called my brothers. I remember looking at my brother’s face and it looked like his face was changing on me, turning into a monster. My brother started crying because he knew something was wrong. I remember myself going to the bathroom while they were all talking. I felt nauseated, but it was like hangover nausea. My stomach was tense for a half hour. My father was afraid something was going to happen and he slept in the bed with me. When they presented the idea of going to a psychiatrist, I didn’t object. Deep inside I knew something was wrong. That morning the clocks were wrong. I thought my parents had changed the clocks for some reason. This was the third day that I didn’t get any sleep.

I remember waiting in the walk-in clinic, all the patients sitting next to me. I thought it was some kind of game, that they were all actors and I was supposed to guess what role they were supposed to play. I remember looking at the clock in the waiting room and it was upside down. That was pretty scary. The person who admitted me asked if I would like to be admitted and I said yes. Once they brought me to Low III, I remember thinking that all of this was some type of show. I had never been in a psych hospital before, so I think it seemed to make all of my delusions more real. I had never been exposed to patients with these kinds of symptoms before. When I first was on the Low I was paranoid about my watch. I was so upset, they put me in the quiet room. So then I was alone in the quiet room with my watch. I remember looking at my watch and thinking that it had some sort of special power. I’m just telling you about the first week. That’s nothing. I remember waking up in the quiet room and thinking that one of the staff had had sex with me. I was very scared. For a week I actually believed that I had some fatal venereal disease. In the hospital I was depressed that I couldn’t see my new nephew grow up. I would cry.

At home I was treated differently, in good ways and bad. It seemed like I had reverted. Here I was, a nineteen-year-old and being somewhat independent, and now my whole family was taking care of me like I was a child. I really didn’t think about it much at the time because I just wanted to get well. I appreciated their help, my parents making sure I got my medication and my father driving me to the day hospital. I kind of liked the support because I was just so exhausted from the illness and from the side effects of the medication. I really needed that helping hand.

There was an expectation that I was supposed to get better quicker than I had; that’s what my parents learned from attending workshops. I remember nine months into day hospital, the psychiatrist running into me saying, “So, when are you going back to school?” My father wanted me to go back to work four months after I was discharged, but my confidence was low and I had all these side effects. I also had to learn to have conversations again because I was out of practice due to the 130-day-long hospitalization, the illness, and the side effects from the medication.

JOSEPH: When I was in the hospital, my family was beyond supporting. They did not miss a visit. Besides my immediate family, friends, aunts, and uncles all showed me great support. My mom would come and sneak in home-cooked meals. Afterward, my parents were very worried; they would watch me, be a little more careful about what they said to me, how they acted around me. Basically, I went back to being a baby for a while. They wanted to know everything that happened. For example, when my grandfather passed away, naturally I cried. My grandmother kept coming up to me asking if I was going to be all right. She was worried I was going to break down. I responded by telling her she had nothing to worry about, that I was just sad. Inside I knew they were just looking out for my best interests. So I didn’t take it personally.

SHARON: My parents were very understanding. My mother stood by me to the end. My mother just cared more; she gave me more love, more attention.

LUCINDA: I just felt that to my face my family didn’t treat me differently. Probably behind my back they did talk about it. I feel that they did see me differently. They kept reminding me of my illness, which did not help me when I was discharged from the hospital. I would have preferred my family not to even mention the illness to me.

MIKE: I had a very understanding family. The one thing that would kind of get to me was the worry. I knew that they would worry a lot. I didn’t want to see them worrying. I knew I was okay.

BUDDY: The last few years I was trying different kinds of help, like therapists and homeopathic medicine. My grandma always thought I was on drugs, smoking marijuana. She didn’t know anything about schizophrenia. My mother, on the other hand, knew I had a problem, so she could understand what the staff was telling her. So she was happy I was finally being treated properly. My friends didn’t know, so they didn’t treat me any differently. Maybe one or two stopped coming around for a while. As soon as I started getting better, things were good.

GENEVIVE: I don’t think my family understood me at all. I was a burden. I was difficult. They couldn’t understand how come all of a sudden I’m saying people are following me or my mother is trying to poison me. After I got out of the hospital they knew. I talked to them more easily. I have a better relationship with my family. They worry about me. My mother is always telling me to take my medication. After I leave for my apartment, she always yells after me, “Do you have your medication?” It’s funny, one night she was taking her insulin and I was taking my medication and she said, “Everybody in the family is taking medication.”

LAURIE: My family is doing really great. They know a lot about what I did before I got sick and they accept it. They don’t bad-mouth me or hit me. They are just trying to cope with what I am going through. They used to get very mad at me when I used to do things. My mom and dad would hit me. I was always going out, not doing my chores, not listening to them. When I came home from the hospital my parents let me have my space.

SAMANTHA: My family still supports me and cares about me. I could go to my parents for just about anything. My parents watched me go down the drain slowly. They did not wish to have me live at home. They give me very little money. My dad has been struggling with an illness and he is not quite himself either. I just felt as though my mom had to focus most of her attention on him. Obviously they do treat me differently, but they want to help.

BETH: In the beginning when I first started taking the medication and getting better, my parents wouldn’t let me drive. But after that, when they saw I was myself, they backed off and just let me be.

RICHIE: My family treated me normal. They didn’t treat me like I was an outcast. If I feel apathetic, my father always tells me to fight it, to get a job. He treats me normal. He should, because I think if you treat somebody like they are sick, you baby them, you give them a crutch in life.

ZELDA: When you first get out of the hospital you are going to be a little child again. There are new rules.Your parents are very worried about you. They will ask you twice a day if you are going to take your medicine even if it’s three in the afternoon and you’re not supposed to take it until night. “Are you going to take your medicine?” They’re just very overprotective.

PATRICK: They would watch me all the time. At first it was a little disturbing, because at first you can’t handle it. You don’t like to hear things like that, but you have to accept it.

MARCUS: When I first went home, my mom and dad used to stay in the room with me. They would watch me all the time to see if I was okay. It was tough for them to keep me on track. They would tell me there was nothing on the TV or radio, like cameras and stuff, people watching me; that there was nothing going on outside. It was scary, like I was a baby again. I was twenty-four years old and they were watching every move I made. It wasn’t real comfortable in the beginning. I told them they could go to sleep, but every time I woke up they were there. They didn’t get much sleep.

SMOKEY: My family didn’t want me to go anywhere by myself. They thought I was going to drink beer and liquor and smoke weed. They were watching me carefully. Still, when I go somewhere and I come back, they check my breath and my hands. They make sure I take my medicine every night.

THOMAS: It bothers me a little bit when my mother reminds me to take my medicine because it makes me feel like a little kid.

BEN: I fought with my family because of me, not because of them. They were just trying to help. I was very stubborn about my views, which were all wrong. But my family was helpful. It bothered me that they watched me so carefully. I thought they didn’t trust me. They asked if I took my medication. To me they were overly concerned, but the things they were worried about were totally appropriate. They were supposed to be worrying, but I didn’t like it.

VAN: Actually, my family was really good about it. They were so glad to see me home. They didn’t really treat me any special way. They still showed that they cared. They made sure I would continue with therapy and come to the hospital.

AMBER: When I first got sick my mother and father visited me at the hospital almost every morning. That helped a lot because I needed support from my family. My sisters visited me, and I found that very comforting because it made me feel I wasn’t alone. My parents have been supportive of me trying to find a job and they haven’t been putting any pressure on me. They told me to take my time.

BUCK: My family didn’t know what to do when I got sick. They didn’t know I was sick. I was just isolated from everybody. Sometimes it seems like my mom is putting pressure on me to go to the program, take my medication, stop hanging out. She doesn’t want me to stay home. She doesn’t want me to have any friends. Maybe she thinks my friends will do drugs and have me doing drugs and I’ll end up back in the hospital.

ABBY: I don’t want my mother worried about me. My mother will ask me, “Did you take your medication?” She notices when I talk about things like music and parties. Then she says, “You’re doing good.” My family jokes around sometimes.

JEFF: It’s definitely an adjustment when you get home from the hospital. It’s a lot of getting used to doing stuff again. My family saved the Christmas tree for when I got back so it felt like Christmas.

ALEXIS: My friends seemed understanding. They called me in the hospital, visited me, and they were my friends after the hospital. My mother wasn’t so understanding and accepting of my being in the hospital. She would visit me every day, though. She would say things like, “They let you out of the hospital too soon, nut job.” Then if I was spending money, she thought I was sick again. When I would go into the store she would think I was going to steal again. Even when I was well my mother would say derogatory things like “mental case.” She would fly these words by like they were nothing. She would rather I had AIDS, cancer, anything but a mental illness.

She would say, “Why me, two nut jobs, you and your father.” What really got me to go for therapy with her was her screaming “My daughter had a nervous breakdown” right in a doctor’s office. And she told my friend. That was a violation of my privacy. In the beginning I would yell back and slam the door. I wouldn’t deal with it calmly. So I went back to therapy. The therapy made me a better communicator, not only with my mom but with everybody. It helped my mom even though she didn’t want to go in the beginning. It helped her cope with the illness and understand about the illness. It also made our relationship much better.

AUDREY: My family still babies me and tries to keep me in their nest. As an art student I’m not unusual. In high school it is harder, but it gets better. You may feel that you are under a microscope, but you would be surprised that there are people out there who are accepting of it.