For the first time in 45 years I have begun to realize just how fraglie mental illness can be.  At least for me.

Earlier this week I did some financially stupid things.  Those actions and the emotional ramifications of them are costing me big time.  How it will all play out is what scares me the most…will it all be okay or will it cost me financially.

For two days now…I have been teetering on the edge…three if you include this morning. I have felt like a piece of fine crystal just daring anyone to tap me, for in doing so I would simply shatter into tiny unfixable pieces.

I know I will survive this just as I have survived many other things in my past that have threatened my sanity, but sitting here right now I have a bit of doubt.

An opening line from Eureka on SyFy tonight.  When I heard that phrase I knew it was to be the title of this blog post.

This was an interesting week indeed and in a way it has been messy.  I saw my new neurologist for the second time on Monday.  At my first visit with him in May I could tell he was suspect of my diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease, a neurodegenerative disease, which I was diagnosed with 15 years ago.  He asked me to come back in two months off my neuro meds, so I did so on Monday.  After the long examination and assessment he said, “If you came in here today and I didn’t know your medical history, I would say you did not present with Parkinson’s disease.”

I had suspected that response, but is one thing to suspect it and think it, it is an entirely different thing to hear a doctor say the words.  I was so taken aback that I couldn’t think of all the questions I should have asked right then and there.  He wants me to come back in two months, which turned into three months by the time I got to checkout.  He also wants me to have a full psych exam, the one that takes three to four hours.

I immediately went into emotional overdrive, which is typical of me.  I began to blame myself for all of this.  You see, after my marriage broke up in 1985, I went back to work.  Over the next 15 years I pushed myself into bigger and bigger jobs.  But, I would do two things almost daily; 1) I would sit at my desk and wish that something would happen to me so that I wouldn’t have to work anymore, this was always due to misplaced fear; baggage from my childhood, and 2) I had a dreaded fear of voice mail.  Even though I knew there was nothing to fear I did fear it.  I still do this today with email.  I have days when I will not sit here at this computer and not open my Outlook.  I just know that there must be someone yelling at me in there, which is never the case.

Back to the topic, by the next morning, Tuesday, I was a mess.  I didn’t know which way to turn or what to do with this information from Monday.  I couldn’t talk to my eldest daughter, who is 39 yrs of age, and whose home I was headed for on Tuesday morning…by 7:00am.  (I had grandmother duty on Tuesday.)  She does not want to talk about serious things, stating that autism is all she can deal with (my youngest grandson is autistic.)  I spent the balance of Tuesday, the entire day, on the verge of hyperventilating and in need of a good cry, but I could not indulge in either of these because I had my grandsons with me and I didn’t want to cause them alarm.

By the time I got home at 6:30pm I was a real mess, having held in all those feelings all day long.  I agonized over calling my psychologist…yes…no..yes…no.  After spending time with this internal tug-of-war  I called him.  I have been seeing him for three years now on a weekly basis.  As has happened before there was that oh-so-calm therapist voice, “What can I do for you Miss Carolyn,” I began to get a grip on myself.  I don’t know that I will ever stop going into self-imposed emotional overdrive about things that crop up in my life.  He tells me it part of having Major Depressive Disorder (MDD.)

Well, the week proceeded as all weeks do.  On Wednesday morning I was okay, which surprised me.  I began to be able to focus again and began to consider what my ‘game plan’ should be.  If this was true, being misdiagnosed 15 years ago, then three very distinguished movement disorder specialists (MDS,), from three different Universities, that  I have seen over the past 15 years are wrong and I have been mid-diagnosed.  It also would mean that the five clinical trials I have been in over those 15 years have skewed data.  The latter trial is a surgical trial; surgery on my brain!  Talk about skewing the data!

Being misdiagnosed, if it is true, is a good thing, but it is also somewhat complicated.  I wouldn’t have this neurodegenerative disease for which there is no cure…the good thing.  But is would complicate my life.  I have not worked for almost 10 years and I am 60 years old.  So, an employer would see me as somewhat unskilled; assuming that I have lost my skills.  But, this issue is not something I have to work on at this point in time.  I will do the neuro-psych exam and see the MDS neurologist for her opinion.  This will take a few months.

By Thursday I began to form a definite plan of action.  I emailed my Clinical Trial Coordinator and told her to call me.  I needed to tell her of the assessment of the neurologist I saw on Monday.  We chatted on the phone today, Friday.  Of course, she has to email the Principal Investigator (PI, the title given to the movement disorder specialist who is responsible for the trail protocol at a given clinic/site.)

So, for a second opinion I will see one of the three MDS I spoke about, tell her what is happening and see what she has to say.  I know she will then get the phone with the PI and they will discuss this.

So, yes, it has been a messy week for me.  And the messiness continues.

Sitting here this morning reading email, something I do several times a day.  One PWP/Person with Parkinson’s I work with (advocacy work) sent out an email about ECT as therapy for Parkinson’s disease.  There was an article, written by a psychiatrist in the New York Times today where he talks about the clinical trials he had done a few years ago.  Another person on the email thread came back and said in other words, “You have got to be kidding!  No way it would work.”

But then the first person sent out URLs to reference material on the topic indicating that trials had been held in the mental health community just a few years ago.  Not big trials, but the documentation was there to support an improvement to motor-symptoms.  I found Dr. Nuland’s YouTube, the author of the New York Times article, lecture online about his personal experiences with ECT for his depression.  He is a surgeon and author who teaches bioethics and medicine at the Yale University School of Medicine.  It was very interesting.

It is also interesting that I had approximately 10 ECT in Nov/Dec 2008.  I have seen an improvement in my motor symptoms, which was witnessed by a PWP friend in Tennessee when I visited her in April.  I never associated it with ECT, of course, but know I have to wonder.

Oh well, as another person just now said in another email of the thread, “Someone asked why the drug companies haven’t sponsored trials with ECT? Doesn’t’ seem like they could make much money from developing it as a PD treatment. Likewise the neurologists.“  It is so sad how profits and the stock market dictate what is placed in clinical trial and what is not.  Oh yes and Pharma CEO salaries and bonuses.  Pharma execs are some of the highest paid in industry.

I have been trying not to plunge into the darkness all weekend.  I can feel it tugging at me and have worked hard to resist it.  I thought of alcohol to dull the feeling, but I am not a drinker.