After a suicide attempt

Caution: this post contains explicit discussion of suicide

Two days ago (on September 10th) was World Suicide Prevention Day. Although it is important to address prevention of suicide attempts, the strongest predictor of a fatal (or “completed”) suicide is a history of previous, non-fatal suicide attempts. The risk factors for suicide attempts are more diverse and include: family history of suicide, early onset of bipolar disorder, extent of depressive symptoms, increasing severity of affective [mood] episodes, the presence of mixed affective [mood] states, rapid cycling, comorbid Axis I disorders, and abuse of alcohol or drugs1

Most suicide prevention effort focuses on people who are naive to psychiatric treatment and have reached a crisis point: people who don’t already have a psychiatric point of contact, and usually people who have never been treated in an inpatient setting before. In my experience, most people do not continue using crisis lines or similar services after they have been hospitalized once. Surmounting the fear and stigma around hospitalization itself is a primary reason crisis lines exist. Crisis lines are staffed by severely underqualified volunteers, who are usually following a script, and only have two action moves: call an ambulance, or tell you to go talk to someone else (sometimes your health insurance company). Yet, people find calling a crisis hotline less formidable than simply admitting themselves voluntarily.

But what about those of us with chronic illnesses, with volumes of psychiatric history, who have been admitted many times? This service is clearly not meant for me. If I spoke to a crisis line on what to me is an an average day, I might find myself being dragged to the ER and with an $800 ambulance fee to boot. There is no exception for chronicity. The stakes of a mistake are high, and the crisis line operator is equipped with a high school diploma.

There’s a gap between services for first-episode patients and services for profoundly disabled people who live in an institutional setting. After my close-to-fatal suicide attempt about two and a half years ago, I had to navigate what exactly life looks like after a serious suicide attempt. I consumed an amount of lithium equal to the 50% lethal dose in rats, and an antidepressant that is also a potent anti-emetic (anti-vomiting) drug. I knew I would absorb more of the lithium if I delayed the onset of (inevitable) severe vomiting.

I was hospitalized for only 16 days. The attending physician treating me thought I should go to a residential treatment program, but I was supposed to be at an academic conference and I begged to be realized in time to go. The head of the clinic evaluated the situation and decided to release me. I was discharged within hours of my flight to Europe. After the conference, I was enrolled in a partial hospitalization day program. The official length of the program was 8 weeks; I was probably enrolled for 4 months. My psychiatrist met with me nearly every day.

We tried a lot of medications, but for quite some time I was not permitted to take lithium. This was unfortunate, because lithium is probably the single most effective drug I take. I have cycled through almost every atypical antipsychotic: Seroquel, Abilify, Vraylar, Zyprexa, Saphris, Geodon… I’m sure I’ve forgotten something, it’s more than I can keep track of. I tried Depakote and Lamictal. Nothing has the same effect as lithium. Ironically, lithium also has a specific anti-suicide effect.

I continued to be suicidal throughout and beyond the partial program. I am lucky that my psychiatrist works well with me.

Chronic suicidality is probably more common than people realize. It doesn’t appear in the media. It’s taboo. You fear to acknowledge it exists somewhere. When we talk about improving mental health services, let’s give a little more attention to the people for whom posting a status update with the s-word in it is reason to panic and report it to Facebook headquarters.

References

  1. Hawton, K., Sutton, L., Haw, C., Sinclair, J., & Harriss, L. (2005). Suicide and Attempted Suicide in Bipolar Disorder: A Systematic Review of Risk Factors. The Journal of Clinical Psychiatry, 66(6), 693–704. https://doi.org/10.4088/JCP.v66n0604



Psychiatric disorders and discrimination by medical professionals

There is much that could be written about the damage done by bad psychiatrists, but this post will specifically focus on non-psychiatric medical professionals: doctors, nurses, everyone involved with it.

Once I presented to the ER with a large abscess from a skin infection, and in great pain. I told the triage nurse that I had this abscess, and showed it to her (it was not subtle). She proceeded to look through my chart and started asking me about my bipolar disorder. I told her what she asked, and of course we got to “Are you planning to hurt yourself?” and I said no, because I wasn’t, I just really needed my abscess to be drained by a doctor.

Naturally, then, she put me in psychiatry and had a psychiatrist come speak to me. I told the psychiatrist what I told the nurse and showed him the abscess. He was horrified by it, and said he’d call my psychiatrist. After he spoke to her, he moved me to the medical area and gave his psychiatric stamp of approval. Finally, a medical doctor arrived and drained my abscess.

In retrospect, is it a big problem? I think it is. What if my condition were even more time-sensitive? They wasted significant time getting me a psych eval when I was not presenting with any major psychiatric symptoms, I just happen to have a chronic mental illness that I will have in my chart forever. What if I was having a heart attack? Would I have to get a psych eval because I’m bipolar?

If you have a label like “bipolar disorder type 1” they will always look for a psychiatric cause for your symptoms, even when the evidence doesn’t suggest it’s psychiatric (like, the huge abscess). They assume you are professionally crazy and anything you say is cause for suspicion, instead of an honest report of symptoms. Putting patients presenting with tangible physical illness in the psych area just because they have a diagnosis, but are not presenting with symptoms, is discrimination.


Anxiety and mania

Recently, The Mighty published an article about the differences between anxiety and hypomania. However, I wanted to complicate the discussion by bringing up something that breaks the juxtaposition of anxiety and mania: primarily anxious mania, which is most likely a mixed episode associated with bipolar type 1.

The author describes how her anxiety leaves her “immobilized”. This can actually happen in mania, too — but usually not in hypomania. Hypomania is often very productive. Full mania is no longer productive — it’s frantic, potentially confused, and may be characterized by manic stupor. Emil Kraepelin used this term to describe a flight of ideas and elevated mood (not necessarily happy, but revved-up) combined with psychomotor slowness or immobility. I’ve been in this state, and I experienced it subjectively as intense feelings of anxiety paralyzing my every move. This might also be referred to nowadays as catatonia, and something similar can occur in severe depressive states; however, the catatonia that coincides with mania is likely excited catatonia (characterized by purposeless movements rather than being completely still).

Hypomania isn’t rare, exotic, or exciting to me. It’s just part of my life, and I take advantage of it when it comes around — which it will, no matter what. But, to me, full mania is to be avoided. Anxiety is also a daily part of my life, but the anxiety and paranoia I experience during a manic episode is even more excruciating than it usually is. Juxtaposing them as discrete, separate states can only take you so far in understanding what mania is and how it affects people.


One bipolar person’s drug regimen

Currently, I take 8 medications for psychiatric reasons. I’ve also been on many others — including most of the atypical antipsychotics, several anticonvulsants, antidepressants, and more. These are my current drugs ranked in terms of how essential they are (if, for example, I could only get some of them, perhaps due to a catastrophe):

  1. Lithium — Big Pharma has yet to come up with something better. It could never be patented, it wasn’t paid for by anybody. It actually works. And it’s all-natural. But also, it sucks. Nature is brutal.
  2. Haldol — Indispensable, though I might be switching to Thorazine in the near future. I don’t picture myself living without an antipsychotic again. Typicals seem to work better for me than atypicals did, though I’ve notably NOT tried Risperdal (even though it’s a good fit for my symptoms) or clozapine. Both were considered, though.
  3. Ativan (lorazepam) — My symptoms tend to cluster around anxiety, insomnia, and irritability — maybe paranoia — all things helped by benzodiazepines. If it were not so problematic, I might have ranked it #2. It’s the best immediate symptom relief I can get aside from maybe sublingual Zyprexa (olanzapine).
  4. Adderall — I would never actually achieve anything in life without Adderall. That said, my need to do something with my life is inherently superseded by my need to be alive, which is why it ranks #4.
  5. Lamotrigine (Lamictal) — An anticonvulsant medication. It seems to be doing something, because I become depressed without it. Though I’m not exactly sure what it’s doing.
  6. Gabapentin — I’m supposed to be using it for anxiety to offset my lorazepam use. It’s also useful for severe headaches. I still feel the pain, but I kind of don’t care, like the pain just doesn’t command my attention.
  7. Clonidine — It’s a blood pressure med, but I’m using it for insomnia. I cycle through medications for insomnia because they all lose their effectiveness eventually. I haven’t been on clonidine before so I don’t know how long it will be useful for. Other drugs I’ve used for sleep: Trazodone, Remeron, Ativan, Seroquel (and other atypical antipsychotics)…
  8. Diphenhydramine (Benadryl) — An OTC drug! The original antihistamine. I take it as 50mg softgels (two of them, which is slightly more than the bottle indicates — consult your doctor). Sometimes works for sleep, not super reliable and fades quickly. Useful if I have a cold or flu because Sudafed is not the best choice for my wiring. Also potentially protective against Haldol-induced side effects. So overall, something I take regularly, but not every day.

Anyone want to share their regimen?



I’m lucky to have my bipolar disorder

There are times that I’ve felt cursed by having ultra-rapid-cycling, somewhat-atypically-presenting bipolar 1 disorder. My mood episodes are short (sometimes as short as one day, although usually lasting a few days to a week) and they can be very intense. I also suffer from mixed episodes, which are agonizingly painful to experience, and at times I have had profound suicidality that has led to multiple suicide attempts — one of which left me in a coma for three days and nearly claimed my life. Doctors said I wasn’t going to make it. But I did.

During the worst of times I’ve wished to have “classic” bipolar disorder instead of my bipolar disorder. In truth, “classic” features may be relatively rare; but it conjures the idea of long, bleak depressions punctuated by shorter, but still somewhat long, grandiose and euphoric manias. Separate and distinct periods of each, usually lasting for months at a time, with bouts of clean euthymia (wellness) in between.

I haven’t really experienced prolonged euthymia, instead merely catching glimpses of it over the course of my continuous ups and downs. My manias are “dirty” and dysphoric, tainted with depressive themes. My hypomanias are very productive; but if my mood spikes too high, my thoughts become dark and gruesome. If I were to jump off a building, it would be to kill myself, not because I believed I could fly.

And I’m also a researcher. Without a doubt, my research in the area of bipolar disorder draws upon my insights as a bipolar person. If I had “classic” bipolar disorder, the research I have done (some of it relying theoretically upon data collection of my own personal changes in mood) would not have been possible. Because I’m an ultra-rapid-cycler, I was able to capture long-term patterns that might take many years to become evident in “classic” bipolar disorder. I believe the same patterns exist in both, but when moods last for months at a time, it is harder to see those patterns.

My ability to detect patterns has served me well in life (including in my professional career) and to some extent, my bipolar disorder trained me to do it. Predicting my own mood was not only possible, thanks to the accelerated timeframe, but essential to my ability to cope with them. Part of the devastation of mixed episodes came with the loss of my ability to predict with reasonable accuracy when moods would peak or change and in what direction. Even so, I learned new patterns and slowly became able to tell what a “mixed episode” felt like, and whether I was experiencing one. This was not something I could do at first.

Insight into the emotions, cognitions, and memory issues that come along with my bipolar disorder developed over time, starting at an early age (as I first developed symptoms around the age of 10). In turn, this level of insight has allowed me to hypothesize connections no other researcher has yet seen. I understand firsthand how bipolar disorder intersects with changes in thinking and memory.

I have the opportunity to discern cause and effect in relation to changes in my mood much more easily than someone with “classic” bipolar disorder, thanks to the immediacy of any reactions. Upon hearing from my psychiatrist that nitrates in beef jerky were causally linked to mania, I took note of my own reactions. I had known for quite some time that beef jerky had a stimulant-like effect on me, but I was surprised to learn it did not have this effect on everyone. (Too bad!) I experience this stimulant-like effect almost instantly, while I’m still eating. The temporal proximity of the cause and the effect makes them easier to distinguish.

My bipolar disorder is a blessing and a curse. I have struggled immensely to control it, but I wouldn’t trade it for “classic” bipolar disorder or no bipolar disorder at all. The knowledge and abilities I have gained as a result of my battle with bipolar disorder — my bipolar disorder, not someone else’s — have actually, truly been indispensable to my life and my career. Plus, that excessively productive hypomania is pretty good too.


Best books for people diagnosed with bipolar disorder

When I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder, my therapist gave me a book that changed my life. Books can influence how you understand your own bipolar disorder, and yourself in relation to it. I haven’t read every single book out there, but here are a few that I have read.

Welcome to the Jungle by Hilary Smith

Technically, this is a self-help book. It contains a lot of good information, tips, and recommendations. The thing I like about this book in particular is its humorous and lighthearted style. I read the original edition of this book, and I no longer have it because I gave it to someone else, but I still remember some of the bipolar jokes! I recommend this book to anyone who has just been diagnosed with bipolar disorder but doesn’t know much about it, and needs a source of information.

Manic by Terri Cheney

Manic is a memoir. Memoir can be so helpful, in my opinion, because it allows us to have insight into the lives of people who have faced similar struggles as us. This book describes itself as “visceral” — focused on the experience of mania and depression from a very subjective viewpoint. Cheney herself said the focus is “on what bipolar disorder felt like inside my own body”. Paradoxically, it becomes very relatable by just how idiosyncratic it is. I recommend this book to anyone who feels alone in their struggles with bipolar disorder.

An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison

This is the book that changed my life. As a freshman in college, it single-handedly inspired me to pursue a career in research, and specifically bipolar disorder — which is now my career. Jamison is an authority on bipolar disorder, but this book is not a textbook — it’s a memoir. In a display of great vulnerability (at the time, nobody could know if this book would end her career) Jamison tells the story of her life, from childhood to a breakdown shortly after completing graduate school, mania, psychosis, depression, and a serious suicide attempt. Throughout it all, Jamison interjects wisdom and knowledge. This book simultaneously provides both deep information about bipolar disorder and a revealing look into the life of somebody who lives with it. I would recommend it to anyone who with a curious mindset, who wants to know more about the science of bipolar disorder and the culture of academic psychiatry, as well as the personal experience of living with bipolar disorder from the perspective of an expert.

Have you read any good books about bipolar disorder? Feel free to leave a comment!


Should I be afraid to take lithium?

Lithium has a reputation. When I was first prescribed it, I felt a sense of fear and also — somehow — a sense of achievement, like I had won the lottery for crazy. When you hear about lithium, it’s often to stress that it is only for those top shelf mental illnesses; and it is good for that, however, it’s not necessarily true that you’re on the top shelf just because you’re starting lithium. A lot of people take lithium. On some occasions it might be the first medication tried. There are a few things to know about lithium in order to make truly informed choices about what you’re getting into.

It’s highly effective

Lithium is one of the most effective medications for bipolar disorder. Which medication is the best varies by person, and a lot of people have success with anticonvulsants like Lamictal. But for many people, the most effective medication is lithium, and its effectiveness has been well-documented for many years (it was first used in psychiatry in 1949). According to one study, about 30% of people who try lithium witness a complete recovery, while 60% see some improvement.

Unlike some other medications, lithium isn’t just a treatment for symptoms of mania; it actually prevents future mood episodes. Relapses become less frequent and shorter. There is some evidence that lithium has a protective effect in the brain.

Lithium has a decent chance of working for any type of bipolar disorder, but there are some people in particular who are very likely to be lithium responders. Those people tend to have:

  • Fewer hospitalizations prior to starting lithium
  • Later age of onset
  • An episodic course (moods cycle and then resolve for a while, as opposed to chronic cycling)
    • About 44% of people with an episodic course have complete remission on lithium, compared to 15% of people with a non-episodic (chronic) course.
    • In one study, 90% of lithium responders who experienced full recovery had complete remission of mood symptoms in between episodes before starting lithium.
  • Mania occurs before depression (mood cycling starts with mania)
  • Strong family history of bipolar disorder and/or a family history of lithium responsiveness
    • One study found that 35% of patients without a family history of lithium response had a complete recovery (similar to other studies mentioned), but among those with a family history of lithium response, that number jumped up to 67% full recovery.

Yes, you’ll get blood drawn

The dosage of lithium is based on how much lithium is in your blood, not how many milligrams are in the pill. The therapeutic window (the space in between the effective dose and the toxic dose) for lithium is much more narrow than most other drugs, so you’ll have to get blood tests frequently, especially when you’re still trying to figure out what dose is best for you.

If you’re afraid of needles, you will probably overcome that fear.

Because lithium blood levels are the most important factor in dosage, it’s probably pointless to try comparing doses with any bipolar friends. Their minimum and maximum dose is probably different than your minimum and maximum dose, so you’re working with two different scales. The middle of their dose range isn’t the middle of your dose range.

Side effects

No doubt, lithium has side effects. The good news is that if you find a low dose is effective for you, you might experience few or no side effects. If you’re on a high dose, it’s more likely that you’ll experience some side effects. These could include:

  • Hand tremors. This can make your handwriting different, and makes it very hard to put Jello in the fridge.
  • Nausea and vomiting. This tends to happen at quite high doses, and it may be a sign that your dose is too high; however, switching to the extended release version of lithium may help.
    • It’s worth noting that your dose can get too high for a variety of reasons, including dehydration; taking ibuprofren or other NSAIDs (you should probably switch to using acetominophen); or climbing a mountain and reaching a very high altitude. That last one hasn’t happened to me personally.
    • If you do actually vomit, it might be very aggressive vomiting and it always seems to come on suddenly.
  • Brain fog. Attention and memory problems come naturally to bipolar disorder, but lithium makes them worse. You may feel that your brain is just working really slowly, and it’s hard to concentrate or read. (Some people also have visual distortions on lithium that make reading even more difficult. I find it easier to read large print.)

In conclusion

Many people are afraid to take lithium, but some experts argue that it’s actually under-used today due to the public perception of it. So, in my opinion, it’s certainly worth trying. Most people won’t experience too many problems; if you’re on a high dose, you might experience some weird stuff, but to me it’s worth it for reducing my mood symptoms, and all of the weird stuff is manageable if you make some small adjustments to your life.

References

Tighe, S. K., Mahon, P. B., & Potash, J. B. (2011). Predictors of lithium response in bipolar disorder. Therapeutic advances in chronic disease2(3), 209–226. https://doi.org/10.1177/2040622311399173


What’s it like to be in a psychiatric hospital?

I’ve been hospitalized 17 times. At this point, it seems perfectly routine. I pack my carry-on suitcase, grab my Pikachu stuffie, and I’m on my way. I know what to expect. However, whenever I’m in the “psych corner” of the ER, there’s always someone being admitted for the first time, and they’re usually crying. I cried during my first admission, too — my therapist told the police to wait until I stopped to put me in the car. I’d read about the hospital online, but still, I didn’t know what to expect and I was very scared.

So, if you’re ever hospitalized, here’s what to expect.

Limited Choices

Where you can go, what you can do, and even what you can eat are very limited when you’re in the hospital. Psychiatric units vary in size and structure, but it will likely be smaller than you would like. Everyday choices are made manageable for people with acute psychosis or severe mood disturbance, which means there are not very many choices.

Here are some activities which are generally allowed, and which I personally recommend:

  • Reading books. The choices of books on the unit are likely to be very slim, so I recommend bringing your own books. Easy to read books may be for the best, as medications can make reading challenging; I enjoy middle grade and young adult fiction.
  • Talking on the phone with friends and family. There is always a phone. I have been in really outdated units where the phones were actual pay phones that required quarters… but in my experience, this is very rare. Phones are usually made unavailable during groups and meal times.
  • Talking to other patients. The other patients in the hospital are likely to be interesting. Some of them will seem “normal” and some of them won’t; a few may be very agitated or aggressive. Don’t be afraid of them, they don’t mean you harm and if things get out of hand the staff will know what to do. It’s a good opportunity to get to know other people with mental illness, and I’ve had many interactions which I’ve remembered for years.
  • Card games. Sometimes there are board games, which may or may not be in playable condition, but there is almost always a deck of cards. Playing cards is a great way to pass time and interact with other patients at a level that isn’t very demanding. I learned to play Rummy 500 in a psychiatric hospital!
  • Take a shower. It’s easy to forget that you need to shower when everyone is wearing pajamas and look like they’ve been in bed for a year, but showering is something that can affect how the psychiatrists see your level of functioning. It’s also a way to pass time in itself. Sometimes you can bring your own shower products and deodorant, which I do recommend because it will make it seem like you’re doing your whole routine.
  • Go to groups. There will likely be a few groups throughout the day, particularly on weekdays. They are likely to be somewhat simple and plain, which makes it so everyone can participate as much as possible. Going to the groups is probably the single biggest action you can take to expedite your discharge. It’s not the only factor and it won’t make a miracle, but it’s worth a try.
  • Go outside. There will be some kind of small outside area. Sometimes it’s on the roof, sometimes it’s a courtyard or a fenced-in patio. You can usually go outside at designated times during the day, weather permitting.

What to bring and what not to bring

Hospitals do vary in their policies and if possible, you can look up their website or call in advance to see what they allow. But this often isn’t possible because when you go to an ER for psychiatric reasons, you could be (and often are) sent to a completely different hospital. Therefore, use your best judgement and pack what you can. I pack a small roller suitcase so that I can fit everything I want.

  • Don’t bring electronics. Cell phones will not be allowed, nor laptops or tablets, or anything that has the ability to take photos, record videos or audio, or access the internet through a browser. However, there are a few exceptions which may be made at some hospitals — UCLA has allowed me to bring old Game Boy consoles, which aren’t capable of anything except playing the inserted cartridge; a basic Kindle e-reader; and an MP3 player with Bluetooth headphones, no wires and nothing with any of the aforementioned capabilities. Bring chargers for your phone and any of these items if you bring them, but be aware you won’t be allowed to charge in your room and staff will supervise your items while charging. (P.S. I’ve heard that electronics are allowed in the UK, so I can only speak for the US.)
  • Bring a light jacket. If you live in a cold climate, you can also bring an outside jacket, but you will want a light jacket for inside the hospital because it’s usually a little bit cold in hospitals. If you bring a hoodie, make sure it does NOT have strings; the same goes for sweatpants and shorts. Strings will probably not be allowed.
  • Bring clothes that make you feel normal. Some people will specifically say to bring comfortable, casual clothing. That is a good idea, but I think the most important thing is to bring clothes that make you feel like yourself, because it’s very easy to feel disrupted when you’re in such a different environment than your usual life. Don’t wear a tuxedo or a $500 designer item, because you’re probably gonna spill cranberry juice on it and you know they wash everything on hot, but wear whatever you want — as long as it doesn’t have strings.
  • Bring slip-on shoes. Some hospitals will not allow you to wear shoes at all. The fancy hospital socks with treads on the bottom are very real, and you’ll get some in the ER. If shoes are allowed on the unit, you’ll have to take the laces out, so bring shoes without laces. Definitely don’t bring boots or anything with a heavy sole, as those will probably not be allowed.
  • Bring books.
  • Bring shower supplies and deodorant. It’s not essential, so if you don’t have space, don’t bring them. But I like them.
  • Bring a comfort item. I always bring my jumbo Pikachu stuffie. Something small would work, but I’m excessive.

Things to be aware of

  • Quiet room. That’s a euphemism, for sure. Most hospitals have one although I think at UCLA they just move you to a different unit if you’re in that place. Basically, this is where they put people who need to calm down. Injectable medications (seems like Zyprexa or Haldol, usually) are often involved, as are restraints. It might actually have padded walls like you see on TV. But if you’re worried about going there, in my experience, you’re probably not going there.
  • Furniture. You won’t notice this until you’ve been in a few hospitals, but they all have a similar physical design with very similar furniture. That’s because they’re designed so you can’t tie anything onto them, if you were to have strings. All safe furniture looks pretty much the same, and it’s very 70s for some reason.
  • Smoking. There are a minority of hospitals that still allow you to smoke cigarettes at designated times. Feel free to bring your preferred kind if you do smoke, but don’t load up; in hospitals I’ve been where smoking is allowed, there are usually house cigarettes available. They are very cheap and seem to be made with cigar tobacco, but trust me, it’s better than nothing.
  • Voluntary status. Not to scare you, but even “voluntary patients” are not 100% free to leave whenever you want. It is better to be admitted voluntarily than involuntarily, but if you do try to leave on a voluntary basis and your treatment team feels strongly that you’re not ready, your status can be changed. At least, mine has been in the past. So it is kind of a catch-22 situation. Some hospitals are more mindful about this than others. It also seems to vary by state.

I hope this overview has been helpful. And if you’re ever hospitalized, don’t worry; it is an adjustment, but most people get used to it very quickly. It’s designed that way. Meals, groups, outside breaks, and pretty much everything will occur at the same time every day. It’s weird how you start to feel hungry for dinner at exactly 5 PM. But it happens quickly!