December 8, 2004 – Monique
Posted by mcolver on May 10, 2009
Sometimes it’s just the side effects that are unbearable. Anti-psychotics are not particularly good for the system; they may keep the demons at bay, but they may also prove quite discomforting, if not downright unpleasant.
He’s sleepy a lot of the time. Gets up in the morning to find that he must go back to sleep shortly thereafter. Constant sleepiness. Hard to get anything done, and some people don’t understand why he can’t do more. His eyes are getting bad, bothering him quite a bit. He’s always had floaters, but now he can’t see at night, and the shadows that follow him around demanding his attention only make it worse. Since his eyes are bad, he can’t even be sure, much of the time, if the shadows are shadows following him around, or if it’s his eyes bothering him.
He doesn’t know what to do. He must have the anti-psychotics, we know that, he knows that, yet he thought of going off of them for a few days to see if that would help his eyes. That is how it works, that is how schizophrenics go off their meds. Will it be better without their meds? Will I be able to stay awake? Maybe I’ll be better now, maybe I can manage without the anti-psychotics. Whatever the side effects are, they wonder, as they must, if there’s another way.
Those close to them wonder also.
He feels useless sometimes, incapable of helping out, of earning his own way. I tell him that if it weren’t for his help I wouldn’t be able to do this business, that my productivity would be greatly decreased, that I wouldn’t be able to go out and do as much as it seems I sometimes do. My client load is becoming, perhaps not burdensome since I need the clients, but it can be overwhelming with the conflicting demands. I need the money, so I try to do it all, but being on my own . . . with his help I can do more. He does errands for me, walks the dog when I have to be gone all day or even when I can’t, like today when I have an inner ear problem and can’t get around without falling down. He makes bank runs, he goes to the store, he sorts for me, he does spreadsheets from statements I give him, he writes copy, he advises, he even makes me dinner. He does so much more than he realizes, and I tell him it’s okay if he needs to sleep, it’s okay if he can’t keep up with me, few people can, and he laughs.
He does much more than he realizes. He supports me. He does not let his illness sour him, he keeps up with his meds even when he doesn’t want to. He is capable of so much, but it’s hard, with his illness and the meds that are supposed to make him better, to see that.
He asked me one day what would happen to him. “What will happen if I live to be old,” he asked me. He’s only 32, almost 33, and the prospect of having no one to care for him and help him concerns him. I told him that I’d make sure he’d be okay and cared for, that it was something he didn’t need to worry about. Hopefully he’ll get better enough that it isn’t an issue, but I know there are options for him. There are options for all of us. His schizophrenia is not nearly as bad as it could be, and hopefully it won’t get worse. With that, his BPD, and his anxiety and depression (as I say, who wouldn’t be depressed with all that going on?), I am impressed at how well he does hold it all together. I admire his resiliency, and though he becomes discouraged, he is still one of the strongest people I know.
