Tag Archives: mental illness and family

Physical Health Emergency and Mental Illness

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Earlier this week I had to go to the emergency room because I had a piece of chicken get caught in my esophagus.  I couldn’t swallow water or even saliva.  I couldn’t even get the chunk out by forcing myself to vomit several times.  Didn’t get anything but dry heaves.  Since this happened in the overnight hours (I’m a serious night person) I went to the emergency room after a few hours of unsuccessful attempts to dislodge the caught chunk of chicken.

Fortunately the e.r. wasn’t very busy as it was about six a.m. when I checked in.  I was seen by a nurse who took down my entire health history and she told me that they’d have a doctor scope my throat to dislodge the blockage.  Since I wasn’t the only person who had to see this doctor that day I was in the hospital for probably four and a half hours total, including check in, initial consultation, prep for the scoping, and the actual procedure.  It wasn’t quite the in and out, but I did have a camera attached to a cable slid down my throat and have blockage removed. The doctor also saw what looked like a small ulcer.  I’m now on a medication for ulcers and have to see him again in a month.  Wish me luck.

I had to take it real easy for the rest of the day, so I just slept much of the rest of the day after my dad brought me back to my apartment.  Spent the next two days eating mostly oatmeal and apple sauce to go easy on my esophagus.  But things are almost back to normal, at least as close to normal as a life with mental illness will allow.

Dealing With A Death In The Family While Having Mental Illness

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On Tuesday, August 4th my paternal grandmother died in her sleep a few days after having a major stroke.  She was 97 years old.  Grandma Foster was one of these people who was always looking out for other people almost like they were her own kids.  I can imagine as the oldest of eight siblings growing up on a farm in Nebraska during the Great Depression she would have developed those skills of caring for others and making that a huge part of her life at an early age.

Every summer my brother and I would spend a few days with her in her hometown.  After my Grandpa Foster died of a heart attack at their farmstead in the early 1980s she moved into town.  While I can’t remember the farmstead she, grandpa, and my dad lived on, she and my dad both used to tell us stories about life on their farm.  Grandma was one of these farmers’ wives who could do a little bit of everything.  She said she could have taken a chicken from the henhouse and cooked on the dining room table in about an hour.  She also did quite a bit of the same farm work my grandpa was doing during the first few years of their marriage right alongside him out in the field.  This was back in the late 1930s when  the corn crops where still being harvested by hand well into the winter.

During World War II, after my grandfather couldn’t qualify for the army as in enlisted soldier because of his age, grandma and grandpa went to Wichita, Kansas to work in an aircraft factory.  They both worked in that factory for the duration of the war.  A few years after the war ended the family moved back to Nebraska.  My grandpa farmed for the rest of his life.  It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized that grandpa and grandma never owned their own land and instead farmed for others.  In addition to being a farm wife and a worker in a aircraft factory, Grandma Foster worked for a number of years as a payroll clerk in an automotive parts plant.  In the 1960s and 1970s she was filling out those payrolls by hand, doing several hundred of those every two weeks.  She didn’t have much time to enjoy retirement before grandpa had his heart attack but she did enjoy having her grandkids and the kids of her extended family around as much as possible.

Even though I have been fighting a mental illness for my entire adult life I’m not as distraught by her death as I thought I would be.  That might be changing soon as my dad, my brother, and I will be spending the weekend cleaning out her apartment.  I’m also going to be one of the pall bearers.  I was a pall bearer at my maternal grandmother’s funeral too.  But as I have been working with a mental illness for quite some time I know myself well enough that often anticipating some bad event will not only lead me into a downward spiral, the anticipation will be worse than the event itself.

So as of right now I’m not thinking about cleaning out the apartment or the funeral or being a pall bearer or the visitation the night before the funeral.  It helps that we had a small birthday bash for her a couple of months ago and she was as mentally sharp as ever then.  She had been hampered by arthritis for the last several years that made walking without a walker or a cane very tough.  As much of an extrovert as my grandmother was this had to be tough.  But she managed to stay in contact with her many friends and family members through Facebook and phone calls.  She was one of these who wasn’t afraid to use new technologies while not losing the old style compassion and empathy for others.  Grandma used her Facebook account to show her caring and to keep others aware of what went on in their social circles.  A couple years ago she said that she went from being in awe of the Ford Model T to looking at flying drones just in her lifetime.  Who knows what my nephews and niece will see in theirs.

At this moment I’m not completely torn up that this compassionate sweet lady has died and is leaving a void that will have to be filled by others.  In time that void will be filled by others in our family and among her friends as it is natural for others to step into rolls that others filled after a death.  Rather than being distraught about her death, I’m grateful that she and those like her lived and impacted as many people as they did.

Mental Illness and Friendships

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Earlier this week I had one of my best friends from college spend a few days at my apartment.  We went out to eat at a couple of places I had been meaning to try.  We went to Omaha to catch a minor league baseball game, which is a fun way to spend an evening and can be done for less than $25 a person pretty easily.  We had front row seats on the first base line and the seats cost only $13.  I took him to one of the parks I go for walks in and crowd watch.  We also chatted extensively about topics near and dear to us, topics like economics, future tech possibilities, history, our fantasy league baseball teams, dating experiences, etc.  I’m going to see him again in July when I go to the Black Hills of South Dakota as I’m one of the groomsmen in his wedding.  I got remeasured for a suit and, even though the weight loss has slowed for the last couple months, I am actually down a few inches in most of my measurements.  Go figure.

For the few days he was here, I had no problems with the mental illness flaring up.  While I am quite steady most of the time anymore, I still have moments of weakness when the problems come creeping back.  I haven’t completely mastered warding off these flare ups, but have learned not to act on these negative emotions and thoughts.  Even when I have the flare ups, I’ll usually just rant and rave but not actually act out physically.  And my family, to their credit, put up with it and don’t try to argue with me when this occurs.  By now we’ve figured out the best way to get out of a down ward spiral is to often allow me to just burn myself out by ranting for awhile as long as I don’t physically threaten anyone or myself.  The odd thing about having schizophrenia is when I am having these psychotic breakdowns is I am completely aware of what is going on and what I am saying but the impulse controls are not working nearly as well.  Fortunately for all of us involved my bark is far worse than my bite.  And to their credit, my family and friends endure my problems and quirks like champs.  That is why it is important to keep in contact with friends and at least attempt to keep things civil with family members.  They can help smooth things out when things go bad.  They also make living far more interesting.  The most important thing in life is our friendships and relationships with other humans.

Visiting my Brother’s Kids

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Last week my brother’s kids had Spring Break and came to Nebraska to spend a few days to visit their grandparents and their Uncle Zach.  These kids, three nephews and a niece, are ages 10, 8, 6, and 3.  They’re old enough to be real fun yet not old enough they’ve become moody and angsty like many teenagers.  As far as kids go they are quite well behaved compared to some kids I’ve seen.  Like most kids, they ask a lot of questions and get quite wound up when they sit still too long.  This used to cause me anxiety when they were younger as, with my mental illness, I prefer calm and stability as opposed to the semi controlled chaos that occurs with raising children.  After a few years of this, I just developed the attitude of ‘take ’em to the park and let ’em run it off.’  As their uncle, it’s not my job to keep them entertained.  They do that quite well by themselves.  All parents have figured out, but it took me a few years to learn, the time to be concerned is not when they’re hollering and running around.  It’s when things suddenly become too quiet is when they’re up to something they shouldn’t be.

I myself am not a parent.  It’s not because I don’t like children, I enjoy those four kids a lot.  It’s because not only do they take a lot of work, they also take a lot of money and time.  I simply can’t afford to raise any kid on social security and part time menial labor salary.  Since I’m not a Don Juan type, in fact my dating track record is absolutely terrible, I don’t think I can attract a woman to marry and/or have kids with in the first place.  Some people have a problem where they attract or are attracted to people who cause them grief and headaches.  My problem was I could never get anyone to even agree to something as simple as a drink or two at a bar or even a walk in the park.  Financial reasons aside, I couldn’t have kids even if I ever got to where I thought I could handle it.  Having a mental illness, for me anyway, puts me at a large disadvantage with how well I can attract a spouse and raise kids.  So I’ll just stick to being content with being Uncle Zach.