I have something in common with a Kennedy (besides fabulous red hair)

The statement Friday by Rep. Patrick Kennedy

Over my 15 years in public life, I've felt a responsibility to speak
honestly and openly about my challenges with addiction and depression. I've been fighting this chronic disease since I was a young man, and have aggressively and periodically sought treatment so that I can live a full and productive life.

I struggle every day with this disease, as do millions of Americans.
I've dedicated my public service to raising awareness about the chronic disease of addiction and have fought to increase access to care and recovery supports for the too many Americans forced to struggle on their own.

This past Christmas, I realized that I had to seek help again so
checked myself into the Mayo Clinic for addiction to prescription pain
medication. I was there over the holiday and during the House recess getting
well, and I returned to the House of Representatives and to Rhode Island
reinvigorated and healthy.

Of course, in every recovery, each day has its ups and downs, but I
have been strong, focused and productive since my return. But in all candor, the incident on Wednesday evening concerns me greatly.

I simply do not remember getting out of bed, being pulled over by the
police, or being cited for three driving infractions. That's not how I want to
live my life, and that's not how I want to represent the people of Rhode
Island.

The recurrence of an addiction problem can be triggered by things that
happen in everyday life, such as taking a common treatment for a stomach flu. That's not an excuse for what happened Wednesday evening, but its a reality of fighting a chronic condition for which I'm taking full responsibility.

I am deeply concerned about my reaction to the medication and my lack
of knowledge of the accident that evening. But I do know enough to know that I need to seek expert help. This afternoon, I'm traveling to Minnesota to seek treatment at the Mayo Clinic to ensure I can continue on my road to
recovery.

The greatest honor of my public life is to serve the people of Rhode
Island, and I'm determined to address this issue so that I can continue to fight
for the families of Rhode Island with the same dedication and rigor that I have exemplified over the last decade.

I hope that my openness today and in the past, and my acknowledgment
that I need help, will give others the courage to get help if they need it. I am
blessed to have a loving and supportive family who is in my corner, and I am
grateful to my friends, especially those in Rhode Island, who have reached out to me. Thank you for you prayers and your support.

__________________


I know that I have badmouthed Kennedy behavior in this blog before (maybe that's why I don't have a shot in Hell with Christopher Kennedy Lawford? Perhaps...) and you might think that I'm going to do it again. Well, today's entry is liberally laced with sympathy and not-so-hot memories for me.

I read the Washington Post's accounts of what happened (including the handy-dandy map of the DC area where the crash occurred), and also the article about the two meds Mr. Kennedy took - Ambien and Phenergan.

A prescription sleep aid and a drug that's in the same chemical/pharmaceutical family as THORAZINE, y'all! You know, Thorazine? The med they give people that are displaying psychotic behavior? This is where the term "thorazine shuffle" comes from. I'm sure the "Phenergan Prance" isn't far behind. It's nice that Phenergan stops nausea, but not so nice when the "blind staggers" kick in.

I know someone who took a medication of that nature when he was in chemo and needed to deal with his nausea, but then he had to figure out exactly which lane to drive in one day when coming home from chemo treatment. Yowza.

OK, back to the topic at hand.

You have to get a doctor's prescription for both of these medications, right? Right. So wouldn't the doctor OR the pharmacist warn Kennedy that if you take both of these at night, you may be impaired? Man. That seems to me like a pretty important detail to leave out.

What's also interesting to me is the mention of bipolar disorder (or the vernacular, "manic depression" - and BTW, a great Hendrix tune) in regards to Kennedy. I have struggled with emotional illness for the vast majority of my life, as my readers know.

My heart truly goes out to Mr. Kennedy.

He has sought treatment for addictions, and many BP patients (myself included) have gone through "self-medicating" just to make the demons quiet down. Be it drugs, alcohol, reckless financial behavior, or other compulsions, it's the 800-lb. gorilla in our lives.

Here's what I wonder (and I know it's none of my business). If he has bipolar disorder, is he on
medication for it? Many BP patients have to do the pharmaceutical tango and find what works for them. I know I've spent much time on the dance floor.

Some of the meds work for a little while and then they don't anymore. Some work TOO well
(Zyprexa was one of those - I gained well over 30 lbs. and was too exhausted to move about), and some give you nasty side effects (weight gain, etc). Other meds that are totally unrelated to the treatment can cause problems as well (cortisone, some anesthetics, etc).

Frustrating, isn't it?

Another thing about bipolar disorder - sometimes the bad stuff hops out when you try to tamp
it down. I think many patients have this "moment of clarity" when they figure out that something is not working.

I am going to tell you about mine, and I hope this doesn't lessen anyone's opinion of me. But if it does, as Jules would say, "You're living on the corner of 'tough titty' and 'sucks to be you'." This
is my blog, my story, and if I'm willing to embarass myself, that should be worth a bit of entertainment on a Saturday, right?

OK...

I used to be pretty good with money. I was not an investment wizard or anything like that,
but when I was married to my first husband, we could make money stretch. We had some panic in our time together but we didn't have to go to the National Bank of Mom and Dad very much at all.

Right around the time my first marriage ended and everything was in turmoil, my ability to restrain spending started to deteriorate. It was small at first - impulse buys here and there.

I thought I could handle it. I didn't deal with it very well, in retrospect. Not at all.

As personal relationships came and went, so did my frugality. By the time I married Hubby #2, the problems got pretty bad, and I attributed them to various outside sources: death in the family, Dad's cancer, storms destroying my childhood home, the stresses of my marriage, etc. I shopped - I bought things and kept them in my car so in case I had to leave Ed in an emergency, I was prepared. I had to be bailed out, it was ugly, and time and time again I vowed that things would be different.

They weren't.

I was hospitalized for "depressive episodes". I didn't address this part of my life. 800-lb. gorilla not being acknowledged again.

The move to the DC area was supposed to be a way for myself to get back on track - promotion, success, my marriage back in order, less hassle, etc.

Things just got worse.

Ed and I broke up, my grandmother died, my dad's health was up and down - stressors continued. So did my stupidity.

Happy things occurred as well (Doug, the big band, new friends made), so how did I celebrate? Shopping.

But I remember this - one day, I went to TJ Maxx on my lunch to - guess what? - shop.

I binged big time. I don't even remember the amount. I just spent.

On my way back to work, diarrhea was starting to set in. I tried to hold it in while carrying shopping bags full of crap I didn't need.

I tripped on a rock.

I lost control.

I was embarrassed for a second, then gathered up my stuff, went into the building, went to the restroom, cleaned myself up, and proceeded with my day.

I showed off my stuff, I was so proud, I got good deals, etc. But I was covering up.

I knew, deep down, that something wasn't right.

At my next psych appointment, I told my doctor that I thought I had BP. He was kind of a jerk and said, "Well, what makes you think that?" like I was some neurotic who read a magazine article about it and had hypochondriac written all over myself.

I told him about the shopping and loose bowels incident. He put me on lithium.

(Is this where the happy ending is inserted? Geez, I wish.)

I was hospitalized one more time after that.

I was put on unpaid medical leave, and finally quit the company I had worked for since 1998, but I tried to get myself together anyway.

Meds were increased or added.

Doctors came and went.

Spending decreased with Doug's support (even if I fought it).

Zyprexa made me fat(ter).

I went off Zyprexa completely.

I was switched from Paxil to Pexeva and back again for panic attacks.

Now, I'm on lithium, Paxil and Lamictal. I'm not sure what will be added to the cocktail after that.

I have no plans to have children because I'd rather be on my meds than off them, mood-swinging like Tarzan, and pregnant.

People say I could have kids or adopt. I don't want that. I know I am a terror to live with, and if I make a choice to not hurt a child based on my belief that I could be detrimental to a child if things go awry, I will go with that choice.

My credit rating is a shambles.

I've had as many jobs as Mickey Rooney's had wives.

One of my friends said he admired me for keeping on like this. I don't know if I want to be admired. I simply don't have a choice.

It's either this or homelessness. I see people at the Silver Spring metro station every day with big glasses in their hand, asking for change.

I will not do that.

I will take my meds and I will be as productive as I can be. I will triumph. I will stumble. But I'd rather be on the meds than off of them, because I know what happens when I'm off.

So anyway, that's MY story. I'm by no means perfect or "cured". I never will be.

But I sincerely hope that Mr. Kennedy can be like many of us private citizens (and public ones)that live with BP.

I hope he can get on a good "cocktail", work hard on fighting his compulsions when they bleed through to the surface, and use his "celebrity status" to show the world that BP patients can be Oscar winners (Patty Duke), US congressmen (Patrick Kennedy), and everything in between.

Even though I joke about being a "redheaded bipolar karaeoke diva", I take mental health awareness very seriously. Maybe the "Kennedy name" can give strength and awareness to what we go through every day.

Don't be afraid of us - more than likely, we're just like you.

Sudiegirl