Do You Think I Have Schizophrenia?

Up until the age of fifteen I was a very happy person, I enjoyed school, I was very smart and was quite athletic. When I was fifteen I started using drugs, dope was my first, which I used for a while. After a year I was smoking dope one afternoon and I passed out and smashed my face against the ground. It left me with two very unsightly scars, one on my nose, red and sunken and one above my upper lip, white and raised. Both healed in quite a strangely shaped way. After this incident I was not very popular and did not get out with as many girls as I used to. So I started using more drugs. I became grossly involved with class A substances such as ecstasy, LSD, speed and cocaine. My appearance was deterioting but I seemed not to care much bout it. I took my G.C.S.E’s, I did ok but not as well as to be expected. So after two months I went back to school to do my a-levels where I would study chemistry, physics and biology. Things started to change, I became worried bout my physique so I stopped using drugs and paid more attention to my studies. I was so embarrassed attending school, and I decided to finish school after I done my exam modules at Christmas. I was so disappointed I had to drop out because with my efforts I achieved an A in chemistry and B in biology. But I could not deal with my looks any longer. I dropped out and started to spend more time in the house but would still go out the odd time, and on these nights out I would take drugs. After a couple of months I stopped and decided to stay in the house all the time. One thing that was wrong with my face apart from the scars was it was very white, and with having black hair it looked strange. One associate even called me a panda. So I shaved my head, it did not look good so I started wearing a hat. My right hand also became perched on my nose to cover the scars. This went on for a few months until my family became very worried. A child psychologist was called in, he was not very nice, and I was under the bed covers just woken up where he tried to rip them off me. So then a doctor and nurse came to see me and very quickly they told me I had to take these tablets. I was not told what for but was informed things would get better if I took them. So I agreed, I started taking risperdal oral, for quite a long time with absolutely no improvement. In fact things became worse due to the side effects which I was told nothing about when I started them. The doctor then put me on a second antipsychotic called olanzopine, which I knew nothing about, or what it was for. This did not work so I was put on a third antipsychotic which I cannot remember the name of. During this third antipsychotic I was in my bedroom on eBay when two police officers and my doctor entered my room and the doctor said, “Aidan, you have to come with us, you re going into hospital”. Now I don’t know what a speeding bullet penetrating the heart feels like but those words shot through my body like nothing I could ever imagine”. I was handcuffed like a criminal and handled in a very unsanitary manner, I was gripped tightly by the arm and dragged down the stairs and threw into the back of a van, not an ambulance, I’m nearly sure it was a police car. I remained handcuffed inside the van and until I entered the hospital. I was taken to the psychiatric unit where I was shown to my room, quite bleak, a bed with a wafer thin mattress, a wardrobe, a sink and mirror. And this is why we pay taxes every year we are the suckers. Our taxes are lining the pockets of doctor’s pockets instead of lining the fabrics of personal and emotional well being of hospitalized patients. Supposedly paying doctors more money increase the chances of helping patients recover. So in my first night in hospital I was very scared, no one came to talk to me except for a nurse who said I have to take some tablets to help me sleep. I refused and she said if I don’t they would have to use extreme measures to give me the tablets. So I unwillingly agreed to. I took them and they pretty much knocked me out. I woke the next morning and could not believe where I was. I was given my antipsychotic medication, and was heavily guarded by a hospital worker, not a nurse, just a worker. I was not allowed out for fresh air so it was 24-hour lock down. I entered hospital a five-a-day smoker and during my stay I was smoking 40-60 a day. There wasn’t much to do apart from smoking, and plying pool on a very shabby pool table, and a ps2, which I was not allowed to use at the start of my stay. I escaped from hospital to buy drugs, I done this twice but only got drugs the first time. I vowed not to escape again but they still suspected that I had friends delivering drugs to the ward. This was untrue. They even accused me of taking some sort of sleeping tablet, which they said was found in my urine. This was ludicrous, I don’t even like sleeping tablets and would never take them for recreational use. They apologised after due to a mistake having been made. I was very hurt because of this accusation but was determined not to let it get me down.

I must say the nurses were not very efficient, I seen several cries for help from patients but these were just ignored. When I approached the faculty lounge to get my pool cue I could her them all having a good time. Their whole day was just one huge break. Who could enjoy themselves like that in a place full of misery and depression?

I had now been on three different antipsychotic with no improvement after over 2 years. So the doctor told me I was going to take clozapine. All I was told it was very effective and expensive. I was never told about side effects or what the medication was for. I remained on this medication until I was thrown out of hospital. Apparently I was supposed to be getting drugs delivered and was giving them out to patients. Now I must emphasize this, I would never give drugs to the people I met in hospital, they were very unstable and giving them drugs I feel would be very stupid. So one morning while I was sleeping two nurses came into my room, ordered me up and told me my room had to be searched. They rummaged through my drawers and my bed and all my clothes in the wardrobe. They found nothing. They seemed displeased not to have succeeded so I was took into a room and told to take off my shoes and socks, then my jumper, then t-shirt. I did not feel comfortable as I had lost allot of weight. Then I was told to take my trousers off, I would not do that so they called the police in and I was fully searched just like a criminal. Nothing was found and I really felt hurt emotionally. Every patient who I was friendly with inside the ward had urine tests to check for drugs. Nothing was detected. I seen the doctor and she told me I had to leave. I was told it would be a positive step if I went back on the first antipsychotic that being risperdal but you can call me paranoid but I think they changed me back typically because it was more convenient. You see with me being out of hospital I could not take clozapine due to that it could only be administered inside hospital.

I was out of hospital and I had made no improvement in my 9-month spell. My hat remained on and my hand was still perched over the scars. The only improvement I can say is that I put on lot of weight during my sty. You see I never ate hospital food and they would not bring it to my room so my dad, when he called to see me in the evening took me to McDonalds every night for 9 months, and sometimes through the day. This was my diet for 9 months.

So I was out of hospital and for a few weeks I acted very much the same as before. But then I started searching the Internet to help my physique. I bough weight gain, skin camouflage for my scars, detoxify kits, skin creams, vitamins, nicotine patches, silicone gel patches for scars and acne cream.

I used these products on a daily basis and I was pleased with the results I was seeing. A support worker then called to see me and I started seeing him every Tuesday. I was still quite embarrassed to be seen in public but I said I would go to McDonalds to the drive through. I was happy as I would gain more weight. Then we started going to the cinema, this didn’t bother me, as it was dark. So we did this for a while, I was still taking the products I bought and this was helping my appearance. But then I went to the pub for a drink with a mate and bumped into somebody I went to school with. He said I had changed allot from school, he never said anything else but that was enough to hurt my feelings. I was determined not to let this get me down, and agreed with my support worker to attend an occupational therapy group. We participated in many activities like ten-pin bowling, walks, golf, shopping and the cinema.

I have to say that this support I received helped me so much, I wish I had never agreed to take this pointless medication, it never did any favours for my appearance. The therapy didn’t either but it helped me come to terms with what I looked like. The woman who ran the group called to see me and I was in bed so had no hat on. She pointed out that this was the first time she seen me without my hat on. So when she left I thought it wasn’t that bad so decided to go and get my haircut. This helped lot, my hat was off and because of the scar cream my hand was away from my nose.

So I was on medication from the age of seventeen to twenty. I m still twenty and have finally told my family and nurse that I was paranoid bout my appearance, my nurse listened and agreed from looking at pictures when I was 16 that I had changed but he still felt I was ill mentally. My mum just kept saying there’s nothing wrong with me.

I came off rispiridone consta 4 months ago and feel much better but my bones re still painful and weak. I don’t see why an antipsychotic medication would help my appearance or make me feel different about it so it seems pointless to me.

I’ve never heard weird voices, I’ve never hallucinated, and I’ve never been paranoid about something that wasn’t happening. It was only my appearance that was a cause for concern.

Could have made the story lot longer but don’t want to bore you. Do you think having a bad complexion constitutes a mental illness, particularly schizophrenia?