THANKS FOR KEEPING ME COMPANY

         As I come to the end of this chronicle , I do understand that life was unbearable for Andrew and in some ways that made his life unbearable for me. His suffering and much of my suffering is over. For that, I am grateful.

It is certainly good to be able to talk about Andrew with family and friends and to write about the time I had with him. I feel peace on many days.

And then I remember that I will never see Andrew again. This thought fills me with a feeling of having all the air sucked out of the room and it takes my body a while to recover.

Many of you have shared your own losses with me. I truly appreciate all of your support. I am sad that I have come to the end of this reminiscence. Offering my thoughts to you and receiving your care in return has taken me to a place that I don't think I could have gotten to on my own.

Thanks for keeping me company as I remembered Andrew. Please keep us in your thoughts. 

Love Marge 

I MISS ANDREW

I miss Andrew. I have great sadness at the loss of him. As Marnie and Eileen have their children it creates a longing for the children that Andrew will never have. The grand children I will miss. He will never age beyond his 28 years. He will be like John Kennedy, always young and smiling back at us from his photographs, as the rest of us move along the graying timeline

FINDING THE ANGST WITHIN

     Despite the study of pathophysiology and related pharmacology,  mental illness is still barely understood today. There is a lot in the news about research and findings, but not much that is changing lives. We see the results of untreated or poorly treated mental illness in the paper daily, particularly when it results in violence and death. I suspect if we had an all-out public awareness campaign on the impact of mental illness to society we might come up with some new collective approach to diagnosing, managing, and treating it, that takes out the darkness and puts it into the mainstream, much like diabetes or birth defects.

          I often think what would happen if we made a TV series, that had mental illness as its focus. To mainstream and normalize discussion and understanding of the different manifestations might help to see affected individuals as ill rather than as criminals or ne’er-do-wells. 

     I know this will happen someday. Right now we  may not be ready, as individuals, or as a collective, to lose this convenient scapegoat for our shared anxiety that the mentally ill provide. It is so much harder to find the source of my angst within. 

COMFORT OF OTHERS

The Philadelphia Inquirer of 1-1-11 has an article describing an attempted suicide by a depressed young man who jumped out of a 9-story building and lived despite a fractured skill, and crushed legs and pelvis. 

My first reaction to the story was to think why didn’t Andrew survive and then to be even more horrified by the thought that maybe he did at least for 24 plus hours. When the family rushed to the hospital, the doctors told them that their son had 24 hours to live. The survivor told of being depressed before the attempt but having no recollection of jumping and when he found out what had happened he asked who pushed me.

I do not know if incidence of suicide has increased or my awareness and search for it has increased. I expect the latter. I do believe it is my longing to place Andrew and myself into the understanding comfort of others who have had similar experiences. Sort of a misery loves company. I know I long for some reassurance that Andrew was just doing what sufferers of serious mental illness do when they are overwhelmed by symptoms that are not well managed by currently available treatment.

      As if to make my point, this morning the coach of the Philadelphia Eagles lost his son. He was found dead in his dorm room at the Eagles practice facility. No signs of violence or suicide the papers said. He had a long history of drug abuse, which involved trafficking and reckless endangerment with a vehicle. 

I wish I had some notion of what the ideal solution is knowing what we know now. It certainly seems like we are letting a not insignificant portion of our young, more male than female population down, along with their families.

EVERY WHERE I TURN

     Before even finishing Eyes Wide Open, I came across letters to the editor of the New York Times Magazine in response to an editorial on involuntary commitment to mental institutions.  The letters related personal experiences that either supported the benefits of involuntary commitment or refuted commitment as a barrier to living life to its fullest.

     Obviously, there are costs and benefits to both sides of this argument. What came across in all letters was the pain and torment of the writers who all had bipolar disorder. 

     Shortly after reading this, I was leafing through a copy of the Philadelphia Inquirer when I noticed a picture of a middle-aged couple with two young adults. The caption told me that the son, age 24, committed suicide after suffering with Body Dysmorphic Disorder . The mother’s description of the family’s anguish at watching their “unfailingly kind, and universally loved, compassionate, teacher’s dream and a varsity athlete son”, sounded so familiar.

     She spoke of how people with this disorder find schooling, holding a job, or developing a romantic relationship difficult or impossible. She could have been describing Andrew. While the diagnoses were  different, her son was suffering from a form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, the life impact was very similar.

WHEREVER I GO

     I feel like I am running into Andrew’s story everywhere I turn. Most recently, I check out an audio book from our local library, Eyes Wide Open by Andrew Gross. I had read a good review of another mystery he had just published but was not available yet as an audio recording. I popped the discs into my car player as soon as I left the library, while still sitting in the parking lot. The tape player sprang to life with a familiar voice. I recognized this voice I liked from another audio book. I thought, great, this man is a wonderful reader. 

      No sooner had I lulled myself, when I realize that the opening sequence was a very detailed description of what was going inside the head of a young man. It began when he reached the top of a rock he had climbed with the intention of committing suicide. He is hearing voices and the voices are encouraging him to jump and free himself of pain and suffering. He admits being afraid, but the voices reassure him that he will be going to a better place. He feels sad at the pain he will be causing his parents. In the end, the voices are more powerfully persuasive and he jumps to his death. 

     I listened to this voice very analytically, trying to compare it to my sense of how Andrew might have spent his last few minutes of life. I felt like Andrew had made up his mind months before he actually jumped from the train trestle, but maybe he did have second thoughts. As I was listening I recall thinking that I must get John to listen and get his read  This book, billed as a mystery, goes on to describe the parents anguish and blaming themselves. 

GLAD TO PUT IT DOWN

I noticed my feelings of hostility toward the little gray haired volunteer who was not quite sure how to direct me, and then I moved onto feeling annoyed about the loud radio being played at the registration desk. After that, I was sent to a booth to be registered and experienced a pleasant efficient young man who ended our interaction by sending me to the wrong floor. For whatever reason, I forgave him.

On my journey to the wrong floor, I was still in a bit of a snit. When I was redirected to the correct floor, I realized that I still had my back up and was looking for trouble. Then it occurred to me that I might make it easier on myself if I could just relax and connect with the people I was encountering. I found myself opening up to the stress test technician. I was friendly and outgoing, not my normal style when visiting doctors. I typically have a chip on my shoulder, and I always want to get in and get out as fast as possible.

I think, somehow I blame it on the staff that I am there and want everyone to know that I am not sick, so do not try to put that label on me. Despite this attitude, I am usually well treated.

It was very nice to be briefly free of the need to have a chip on my shoulder. It made me feel more able to connect with the stress test tech and I ended up telling her about Kathy’s death after a stress test. It was nice to tell her about it and what is more it let me in on my own little secret, that is, how anxious I was on some level about having the test.

Until then I was completely unaware of what I was feeling. Actually, once I decided to connect with the staff I was relieved of my burden. I am not even sure it was anxiety but whatever it was it was a heavy load and I was glad to put it down.