You Aren't What You Read: Part II

Frugality. Order. Temperance. Justice.

I scrawled the words on the bottom of the page, my hands shaking from nerves as I took another one of Prof. S.’s grueling reading quizzes. I repeated the virtues over in my mind, four of Benjamin Franklin’s thirteen, wondering if I had any of them.

Frugality? Kinda. Order? Definitely not. Temperance? Forget it. Justice? Maybe…

In the first weeks of the class, I had seriously questioned whether or not I could withstand the rigors of its academic requirements. One concern was that I had difficulty reading material of any length or depth due to my lack of concentration and memory.

But I knew there was something else, something that was grievously wrong with me. It became clear when Prof. S. showed a minute and a half long film on Native American culture, and I couldn't follow it. He showed it again, and a discussion ensued. I realized that other people had watched the film. Other people understood the film. Other people were discussing the film. I was so disconnected that I couldn't absorb a minute and a half's worth of material. My anxiety was running rampant. It was then that the point was driven home: I was in trouble.

I should have called my psychiatrist right away, but instead I suffered on my own, taking my deficits personally. I knew that my lack of memory was a correlated to overall stupidity, that my inability to focus made me a marginal human being, and that my disconnectedness would relegate me to be a failure in every arena: school, work, friends, and home. I was permanently cut off from the world and what it had to offer.

When I finally made it to my doctor’s office, it was time to come clean. She showed me into the office, offered me a seat adjacent to the dog, Ralph, and sat comfortably with her laptop.

“So, how are you?” said Dr. T.

I began describing my symptoms, lack of concentration, memory, focus, disassociation, depression, and gave examples. Dr. T. looked at me, nodding her head. Then she administered a memory test. I was pleased that I could remember the presidents backwards to Ford. The numerical tests were not a success.

“Depression,” Dr. T. said, “You have depression induced dementia. Not to worry. It’s not permanent.”

Dementia! Did she just say dementia! The frightening part was that the term seemed to fit. I felt like she had accurately described the severity of my feelings, my condition, and reassured me that it was temporary, that she could help me. We spent the rest of the session discussing medication changes.

“If you can’t read in a week, then drop the class,” she advised. I was happy to have an authority figure giving me some concrete direction. If I had to quit, it would be Dr.’s orders.

I left Dr. T.’s office with a drastic medication change, but with hope that my mind would begin to clear in a short period of time.

It was only a matter of days before my mood began to change, and once again I was reminded of the fickle nature of the bipolar illness. My reading improved. I could sit still and focus. I could follow conversations. I could screen out unwanted noise. I couldn’t believe the change, and I had to remind myself once again that these deficits are part of the illness and don’t have to be tolerated.

Just because my mood was turning around didn’t mean I should stay in the class. What if I continued to fail the reading quizzes? What if I couldn’t concentrate on the in-class exams? What if I couldn’t even remember how to write a paper?

I answered this question by changing my status in the class from a letter grade to P/NP, which I felt would give me the breathing room I needed. I also decided to apply myself and work as hard as everyone else. (Apparently, I was not the only human being that struggled with the reading quizzes at first, either.)

I intend to stay in the class and pass, but if I don’t, it’s really a moot point. One way or the other, I am at peace with the outcome, knowing that I’m trying, knowing that I’m managing my illness to the best of my ability.

I may not have Benjamin Franklin’s virtues of Frugality, Order, Temperance, or Justice, but I do have the most important one back in my life: Tranquility.