Mijo.male.54

When the Lights went out - My system Crashed

AFL fans may remember when the power failed during a footy match at Waverley Stadium {Melb}. If you don't, then imagine the scenario.

A large stadium, thousands of spectators in the stands, 36 players plus umpires on the field, coaching, support staff and stadium personnel scattered throughout the stadium.

Blackness.

Without warning the stadium is plunged into darkness - an abrupt quietness descends. The commentators hesitate in their call; small emergency lights spring up around the stadium. They are tiny, in the dim light players can be seen running for the safety of their rooms, spectators are bewildered, probably frightened. Exciting and yet scary.

Mayhem and pandemonium. Groups of spectators went ballistic. Fires were lit on the field; people were running riot; a small group tackled a point post, breaking it off and running of with it.

I was watching that telecast. At the time I was in the 'black-hole', in the grip of the black fog. As I watched the mayhem develop, the chaos, fires, people ripping down a post - most were bewildered not sure where to go or what do ? I thought:

"My stadium looks like that ? only worse"

I had some warning before my systems crashed. It began with minor symptoms. Difficulty with concentration, undue tiredness and irritability, disturbed and restless sleep, general gloominess and anxiety about little, future things ? everything.

My hands developed slight tremors, a thick sensation in my head ? not a headache ? a burning, thickness like a severe hangover and flu headache together. Constant, continuous.

Then came the all over muscle pain, especially in the base of my spine. It ached, day and night. Severe indigestion every day, an awful sensation of nausea, I would cough until I vomited. On top of this a whirring sensation just below my ribs, in my solar plexus, like an electric motor whirring and sparking - all day, every day. It apparently stopped when, or if, I slept. I know that because when I first awoke it was absent and then within seconds the 'motor' kicked in again.

Sleepless nights, walking the floor. Guilt and recrimination about big things, little things ? everything past, present and future. A peculiar sensation developed in my right arm pit {axilla} like a million spiders crawling around. I couldn't bear to keep my arm by my side. When I drove I had to have my elbow on the window; when I slept I held my arm underneath my body.

In a business meeting, serious financial problems were developing, I simply couldn't hold back the torrent anymore. The dam burst, the tears flooded and I fled from the room.

The power had failed, blackness, mayhem, madness. Nothing made sense anymore.

The anxiety attacks began, several occurred whilst I was driving. Sheer panic. I couldn't breath, thought I would suffocate. Disoriented, couldn't think or concentrate.

For 9 months I existed from bed to toilet to kitchen to chair in front of tele back to bed. Minor decisions required an act of Parliament, and took longer than a Royal Commission. Simple conversations lasted 30 seconds before the tears flooded. I became housebound, only venturing out to see the psychiatrist and things that I just could not avoid or couldn't find an excuse to avoid.

My wife had stood steadfast in my support, taking over running our business, taking responsibility for everything. She deliberately prevailed on me to do things, to keep me at least a little bit active. She would send me shopping - I hated it. I would stand in front of the shelves desperately trying to choose - which product. Sometimes it would take me 3 or 4 minutes to decide. The longer I deliberated the harder it became; sometimes I would have to walk away and come back.

2 + 2 could equal anything - anything except four!

She suggested we go on a mystery train journey. She and my daughter went. I refused and spent the day crying instead. Later, she insisted that we spend Easter with her parents in the country. For weeks I agonised ? would I go or not? The day came, more agonising. She managed to get me to the car. I sat in the seat, one leg in the car, one leg out ? for 30 minutes. I was terrified, paralysed. Eventually, I dragged my left leg in and shut the door. We left. I sat rigid, petrified for the two hour trip. Reminded me of the uncontrollable terror when I first flew.

Like living life on skis, careering down a mountainside.

Treatment - Snakes alive!!

The pyschiatrist prescribed Prozac. I was reluctant, but desperate, so I got the script. Snakes alive for 5 days and nights!! My skin was alive, crawling; very little sleep; I was climbing the wall.

Back to the psychiatrist he suggested that I switch to Lithium. Off to the hospital for blood tests and I Started on Lithium. It helped, a little. But I was worried about becoming dependant, about side-effects, long and short term.

What I really wanted to do was to use herbal medicine and other 'natural' therapies.

Besides being concerned about long term dependency on drugs, I am a {natural} healthcare professional myself, if I couldn't mange my own health with natural therapies how could I expect patients whom consulted me to? I decided I had to make an effort ? and it was a huge effort.

I began using a combination of St. John's Wort {hypericum} and other herbs, first in tincture and then as a homoeopathic complex. I got back onto the herbal / nutritional supplements that I had previously taken. I increased visits to my chiropractor. I began walking, short distances, 10 to 15 minutes, sometimes more, every day. I began taking more control of my 'self ? talk'.

Time passed, I struggled. Progress was slow and painful. One evening my son {21} was preparing to go out, I would be home alone. As he left he turned to me, "Will you be OK?" I saw the anguish in his eyes ? I cried, "Yes, I'll be fine". I am tearful now as I recall that moment.

But worse was to come. Nine months, still not working, not doing anything much except watching tele or pacing the floor. Couldn't stay still. Our business was failing, I had concluded that I would never work again. I was a burden to my family, my business partners, everyone.

Logical conclusion: Everyone would be better off if I were gone, wouldn't they??

It was perfectly logical, I wouldn't be able to work or provide for myself, or anyone else, every again.

Meanwhile, my wife and family were having to provide for themselves, but also cope with me and my traumas. I made plans. Fortunately, when the time came, a just enough common sense prevailed. I realised that that was not an acceptable solution.

Not a solution at all. Running away, trying to hide ? there is no place to hide.

Flyer Therapy

By now it was Christmas and I accompanied my wife and family to the country as was our tradition. Not quite as difficult this time, the natural therapies were having an effect. I knew that we probably had three months {at most} before our business could trade no more, we would lose everything.

I had to act, to find a way, NOW.

Boxing day I returned home on my own, terrified. I spent hours distressed and crying. Then I made a cuppa, got a pen and pad and began making a list of the tasks ahead to save our business. Two pages and still I hadn't found anything that I thought I might be able to tackle.

Finally, something came to light: flyers.

We needed to promote. Flyers were a cheap way to do that. I figured I could do that, even if after dark when I woudn't have to encounter anyone. I have a computer, printer and photocopier ? everything I needed to create flyers.

I did so, immediately, making 300 flyers, which I then went and distributed in local letterboxes. I returned home, fatigued, but a sense of {small} achievement. I repeated the process next day, the day after and the day after that, for three weeks.

Then the small miracle. I had just returned from my morning distribution when the phone rang, The lady wanted to make an appointment, she had just received a flyer in her letterbox. I asked where she lived. I had just left her street.

The impact on me was powerful. I could make a difference.

The combination of doing something, getting results and, obviously, the additional exercise slowly spiralled me up from the pit of darkness. From that point I very slowly and gradually increased my work activities, it took a very long time, until I resumed my work full-time.

Not bad for a guy who thought he would never work again, who wanted to check out early!! I have days, as we all do. Now, instead of driving myself, I make a cuppa. Time out. My dear old mum used to claim that a good, hot cuppa would fix everything. It worked for her.

I remind myself of what I have achieved, where I climbed from. If or when that's not enough I think about the millions of people who are homeless, live in abject poverty, are refugees from war zones or who are subject to political oppression, torture and death. Or closer to home, those who endured the hell of world wars and the big depression. Their circumstances don't change mine, in any way, but sure as hell puts things into perspective.

Now, in retrospect, I realise that I had experienced at least four or five such incidents throughout my life. I am 54 now. Toxic chemical poisoning, 20 years ago, obviously exacerbated my condition.. I recall, at secondary school, frequently going to the school nurse complaining of vague symptoms, strange feelings in my head {not headaches} and the most prominent symptom was the funny sensation in my right armpit. She gave me aspirin and said don't worry.

Of course I worried. I worried about everything.

The previous incidents were relatively mild, lasting only weeks. The most recent, six years earlier had forced me to stop work for 3 months. As they had only occurred very spasmodically, maybe every 10 years on average, I never connected them. I used to simply drive myself harder.

The diagnosis by the psychiatrist was 'Major Depressive Episode'. The insurance company sent me for an independent opinion to another psychiatrist. His diagnosis: Bipolar Depressive Disorder.

Does it matter? Probably not. Drug prescriptions seem to be a trial and error process for each individual regardless of the diagnosis. I decided, early, not rely on drugs, so a specific diagnosis is not important. I know that I am inclined to have periods of depression. In this sense I have a slight disability. Just as my son wears glasses to correct visual impairment, I need to take appropriate care ? look after myself.

I meditate and use stress management strategies daily. I watch my 'self ? talk' and preserve my 'worry energy' for the really important / essential matters. I eat well, take my supplements 3 times daily, 8 days a week; see my chiropractor regularly; walk 15?20 minutes daily or at least four times per week.

YES, it is good to be alive.

IF it is to be - IT is up to me

My 12 steps:  

1. Herbal remedies
2. Nutritional supplements
3. Careful diet ? lots of fruit & vegies
4. Chiropractic
5. Exercise
6. Meditation
7. Keeping things in context.
8. Regulating my expectations.
9. Censoring my 'self talk'
10. Conserve my 'worry' energy.
11. Be thankful for what I have ? rather than complain about what I have not
12. Time- out and cuppa when stressed