People who cut themselves are taken to the hospital and stitched up. Those who need wisdom teeth removed go to a dentist for surgery. Even terrible diseases like cancer, if not curable, are at least able to be identified by doctors so that the best treatments can be given. Mental illnesses, however, have no visible symptoms. Despite what they say in person, doctors are often dismissive of mental illness and are inexperienced in dealing with it. Here, I describe how four months elapsed between the first appearance of symptoms and my eventual diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and what I learned from repeated misdiagnoses by the medical establishment.
On August 5, 2006, I read on the Internet about Sam-E, a nutritional supplement that is advertised to increase concentration and reduce anxiety and depression. After buying a package from the local drugstore, I read all the side effects carefully. The pills supposedly had a half-life of three hours. Two were recommended, so I took one in the morning and one in the evening.
While I did not notice any increase in mood, I immediately encountered an increase in concentration. Rather than frequently losing focus and having to retrain my thoughts with great effort, I could work for hours that day without a break. I went to bed thinking that while my mood had not improved, at least I would be able to concentrate better if I continued to take the supplement.
In the morning, the increased concentration had given way to a complete inability to keep anything in my mind for more than a second at a time. It was difficult to speak in full sentences because I would easily forget what I was saying while I was talking. Believing that the condition was a side effect of the medication, I waited for it to subside for four additional days, but the problem didn’t get any better – only worse.
By August 10, despite stopping the Sam-E, a new problem had reared its head – I lost the ability to feel emotions, and therefore was unable to determine when it was appropriate to talk to people. Most people, I imagine, decide what to say next by how they feel according to the previous thing that was said. But since I couldn’t feel anything and whatever I did feel disappeared from my head a second later, I could only say the first thing that came to my mind – and as a result, I said nothing. I withdrew, saying little and avoiding other people because I had lost the ability to determine the correct actions in response to what they were doing.
A month later, I had been reduced to simply going to work and coming home, staring blankly at the TV. While “staring blankly” is an overused term when it comes to television, in this case I actually was staring blankly, because I couldn’t get anything that was happening on the TV to actually stick in my mind. It all disappeared from my mind a second later, and I was unable to follow TV shows.
I decided to take action by calling a counseling service, hoping that they would be able to get to the bottom of the situation. I called the number and waited on hold for half an hour, after which a nurse asked some questions such as whether I was going to commit suicide and whether I was going to hurt myself. When I said no, she asked me other questions that I had difficulty understanding, given that her words wouldn’t stick in my mind. She hung up, and, dejected, I waited another week before trying again.
During that week, and during the next month, my work performance deteriorated, and my lack of ability to gauge emotions made it too difficult for me to participate in business meetings. I became more depressed than I had ever been in my life, but I also realized that quitting work wouldn’t make anything better. My reduced intelligence wouldn’t make life any better sitting at home in front of the TV. I kept going to work every day, and I finally was able to get someone on the phone who scheduled an appointment with a therapist.mental health billing services
The therapist didn’t help at all. While she insisted that I was imagining most of my symptoms, and I accepted that she might be right, I simply couldn’t remember what she was saying. By the time each session ended, I had forgotten what was said at the beginning. I kept going because there was no better course of action, but how can one benefit from therapy if he can’t remember what happens during the sessions? Everyone said that the symptoms were being imagined, and that talking to someone would help, so who was I to argue?
Next, I visited a general practitioner to rule out a medical cause for my problem. I desperately hoped that what was wrong was curable and that my stupid decision to take the Sam-E hadn’t caused permanent damage, because life certainly wasn’t worth living in such a state. The doctor performed a standard physical exam, took some blood tests, and asked me if I was depressed. Of course I was depressed, given that I was unable to think clearly anymore, so he said that an antidepressant would clear up all the symptoms and that would be that.
I went home and started taking the Remeron that he prescribed. Sure enough, it did eliminate the depression. Now, instead of feeling depressed, I just felt “stupidly happy” – I still was dumb and couldn’t think, but I didn’t feel bad about it. I called the doctor back and he said that the medication just needed more time to work. After another week, I decided that, since I was “depressed,” I needed a second opinion from a psychiatrist.