A favorite mentor and advisor, at the end of our final meeting, on my way out from his cozy living room office, with the big glass window looking out on the yard, shaking hands with a big smile, told me, ” Here is my last clinical pearl; never give anyone advice.”
I was preparing for a trip with my wife for a job interview halfway across the country at a prestigious university-affiliated hospital. I received calls several times during the prior year from the hospital recruiter. He was interested in me because of my experience in psychiatry and holistic medicine and the fact that I had worked for one of the leading practitioners of holistic medicine. Because interest and demand for complementary and alternative medicine were at an all-time high, his hospital wanted to set up its own unique department. I was considered a good fit for their needs. They offered me a considerable salary with other perks to make it of interest and value to me. My wife and I were ready to change for growth and new experiences, and my son was finishing his college program, so the timing and offer seemed perfect for us. Of course, it depended on their hiring me for the highly valued position.
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In my early life and career, there were two incidences when I thought I would not survive and my future aspirations would be no more. These episodes seemed to happen in the so-called fate of the moment, with the saving grace of surviving a tragic outcome.
One incident reverberated in my mind when I hit the brakes with an almost intuitive decision that reversed what I thought would be a deadly consequence for my wife and me. The near-fatal incident was when I drove south for a vacation with my wife several years after our marriage. We were on a two-lane road with the glow of the future in front of us.
The season for a fresh start seemed upon us with its promise of renewal and healing. Out of the deep darkness, a seed, a kernel of insight, grows towards the light and life with opportunity and challenge. People were reemerging after a trying and difficult period with some hopefulness of new beginnings.
The scourges of a pandemic seemed to recede with the anticipation of a reopening of society. The regaining of prosperity and security was the hope. But then, there was the possibility of new variants and surges. There were still people that had lost their faith in science, vaccines, climate control, our government, and democracy.
| Ron Parks, MD Feb 25 |
Valentine’s day that passed recently reminds me that there are more profound realities than myself and related busyness. The holiday about love and relationship almost got overlooked, with my over-involvement and preoccupation with what I was doing. Luckily, my wife and something in the news gave a subtle reminder of Valentine’s Day coming. After reflecting on the day’s special significance—love, relationship, and our mutual interdependence—I went into action with roses and a special day together.
Unfortunately, the loveliness of the holiday was diminished by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The dynamics of relationship and choice-making become even more poignant when seeing the tragedy of another war unfolding. I reflected on the relationship between an individual’s emotional and mental functioning and extension to one’s social group, society, or country.
I’m Simon, and I have bipolar disorder. I like to joke that I was a late bloomer, very tongue in cheek, because that was far from the truth. I was in my mid-forties when I physically collapsed. Life and everyone in it just became too much and my mind and body had come to a place where something had to give, or in my case, both gave way at the same time.
I spent a long time in bed thinking that the heart palpitations, cause by my excessive drinking, were killing me. Eventually, I took a stupid Am I Bipolar? test in a magazine, and found that I ticked all of the boxes. That led me back to my GP, who set me up with an appointment with Arno, my first psychiatrist. Within an hour, and with prescription in hand, I entered life after diagnosis and the circus show that comes when dealing with extended family and friends. Luckily, I had Jax to help me...
Dr. Sid—endearingly just called “Sid” by his peers, colleagues, and fellow healthcare workers—made his way through the city in the early morning darkness. For fifteen years, he’d traveled this way, but the ordinarily busy city was now quiet, a sad reminder of the pandemic’s impact. He cranked the heater as a shiver crept up his spine at the thought of what lay ahead of him.
Mary1 had a history of mood swings, depression, anxiety, and PTSD from childhood sexual abuse. Her years growing up were in a chaotic and disruptive home, especially after her alcoholic father deserted her and her mother. She had experienced a hard time growing up with parental neglect, physical, and emotional abuse. Her post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) returned after the hurricane with a vengeance.
As a nine-year-old boy, while enjoying the warmth of the midday sun, I was easing my way out onto a branch of a wild apple tree. It was in a deserted field with the sweetest green apples I had ever tasted. These weren’t like the shiny red ones you can buy at the local store. The tree’s singular presence in an untamed field of weeds and wildflowers made it an even more tempting challenge to climb.
Growing up in the rural countryside, I loved to run and play, in the open fields and woods, with my friends and dog. I became good at swimming and other sports. Even though polio was in the news with pictures of children paralyzed from the untreatable illness—there was no effective treatment or vaccine. I felt invincible and in robust health. But with a turn of fate, the virus found me one summer day.
