Hey, y’all –
I’ve recently had a very close loved one go into her first (acknowledged) bipolar episode ever, ending her up in the hospital. She has been having bouts of depression for years, and been treated with antidepressants, but they’ve never really seemed to do any good (I wonder why??), and she’s just gotten worse and worse over the years.
This past week was so bad for her — she could not eat or sleep, or even get out of bed. We talked on Monday, and I told her that maybe she should consider that she might have bipolar disorder instead of simple depression, going over the signs and symptoms of bipolar one at a time with her (with her acknowledging that she had every single one of depression with hypomania).
Now, I obviously told her that I am not a doctor, psychiatrist, therapist, or any other professional, and could not diagnose her, but strongly urged her to see one, because she couldn’t go on like this. She was saying that she was not suicidal, but thought about death all the time (great indicator).
Needless to say, I was really concerned, because she reminded me so much of myself right before I was diagnosed. I offered to take her to the hospital if she wanted to go, but she said she thought she was ok for the moment.
Little did I know but that after we hung up, she had gone on to work, lasted just a couple hours, then broke down in tears, unable to work or do anything but ask for her doctor (a few doors down), who came and immediately sent her by ambulance to the hospital (which has a behavioral unit where she would be safe).
It would be a few days before we would find out that she was even in the hospital, a few days before she would contact us to tell us what happened and that she was all right. It was during that conversation that I also found out that the night before she went in, she had been hallucinating as well — one of the reasons she got scared enough to go into the hospital (she had never once hallucinated before).
In the hospital, she was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder instead of just depression, put on the correct medication, she got some good sleep, finally ate something, and within 48 hours, was nothing like the person I had known before — she was so very much better. She even talked about how much better she felt. She also talked about how readily she accepted the diagnosis.
The point of all this is that I wonder how much better a quality of life this dear person to me could have had if she were diagnosed earlier in her life (she is in her early 70’s now), rather than this late.
Why, I wonder, was she passed from doctor to doctor, diagnosed with simple depression and fed antidepressant after antidepressant, never once considering that she was NOT getting better, and entertaining the idea that maybe it was because she was being misdiagnosed? That maybe she had, in reality, bipolar disorder? Why did it finally take a total breakdown and a full-blown episode, landing her in the hospital delusional and hallucinating, for her to finally be given the right diagnosis in her 70’s?
I thank God I was diagnosed in my 40’s, and I thought even that was too late. For those of you who are diagnosed early, be grateful. You have time to get this dragon of a disorder managed at an earlier age than some of us have had to suffer through.
The best part is, however, that my loved one has an optimistic future from here. She has the right diagnosis and the right medication now. She has a good support system. She has a good team of professionals. And she knows now how to change her lifestyle to manage her bipolar disorder. The biggest thing, however, is that she has learned that SHE IS NOT ALONE!
Wishing you peace and stability,
Remember God loves you and so do I,
Michele
Hey, y’all –
I’ve recently had a very close loved one go into her first (acknowledged) bipolar episode ever, ending her up in the hospital. She has been having bouts of depression for years, and been treated with antidepressants, but they’ve never really seemed to do any good (I wonder why??), and she’s just gotten worse and worse over the years.
This past week was so bad for her — she could not eat or sleep, or even get out of bed. We talked on Monday, and I told her that maybe she should consider that she might have bipolar disorder instead of simple depression, going over the signs and symptoms of bipolar one at a time with her (with her acknowledging that she had every single one of depression with hypomania).
Now, I obviously told her that I am not a doctor, psychiatrist, therapist, or any other professional, and could not diagnose her, but strongly urged her to see one, because she couldn’t go on like this. She was saying that she was not suicidal, but thought about death all the time (great indicator).
Needless to say, I was really concerned, because she reminded me so much of myself right before I was diagnosed. I offered to take her to the hospital if she wanted to go, but she said she thought she was ok for the moment.
Little did I know but that after we hung up, she had gone on to work, lasted just a couple hours, then broke down in tears, unable to work or do anything but ask for her doctor (a few doors down), who came and immediately sent her by ambulance to the hospital (which has a behavioral unit where she would be safe).
It would be a few days before we would find out that she was even in the hospital, a few days before she would contact us to tell us what happened and that she was all right. It was during that conversation that I also found out that the night before she went in, she had been hallucinating as well — one of the reasons she got scared enough to go into the hospital (she had never once hallucinated before).
In the hospital, she was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder instead of just depression, put on the correct medication, she got some good sleep, finally ate something, and within 48 hours, was nothing like the person I had known before — she was so very much better. She even talked about how much better she felt. She also talked about how readily she accepted the diagnosis.
The point of all this is that I wonder how much better a quality of life this dear person to me could have had if she were diagnosed earlier in her life (she is in her early 70’s now), rather than this late.
Why, I wonder, was she passed from doctor to doctor, diagnosed with simple depression and fed antidepressant after antidepressant, never once considering that she was NOT getting better, and entertaining the idea that maybe it was because she was being misdiagnosed? That maybe she had, in reality, bipolar disorder? Why did it finally take a total breakdown and a full-blown episode, landing her in the hospital delusional and hallucinating, for her to finally be given the right diagnosis in her 70’s?
I thank God I was diagnosed in my 40’s, and I thought even that was too late. For those of you who are diagnosed early, be grateful. You have time to get this dragon of a disorder managed at an earlier age than some of us have had to suffer through.
The best part is, however, that my loved one has an optimistic future from here. She has the right diagnosis and the right medication now. She has a good support system. She has a good team of professionals. And she knows now how to change her lifestyle to manage her bipolar disorder. The biggest thing, however, is that she has learned that SHE IS NOT ALONE!
Wishing you peace and stability,
Remember God loves you and so do I,
Michele