Well, Someone Took My Request Literally (i.e. I Will Blog For You?)

Kidding. Again.

I received an email over the weekend with a link to some research (or as stated from the outset, a hypothesis) about Paternal Age and Schizophrenia. There's a wee bit about Autism in there as well. The person suggested that I have a look at it and perhaps blog about it.

Well, I'm not sure what to say other than a) it was interesting b) I have always loved genetics c) I am not an expert and d) I suppose I am always happy to satisfy what small reading public that I have.

I have also survived a rather long psychiatric evaluation today and am rather exhausted.

So perhaps I will just throw out the link and see if it engages any interesting discussion or debate. Perhaps you, dear readers, will be able to stimulate me further.

If interested, please read about it here.

"Bound" And Less Determined

I had no idea how to title this and I am still not sure how to write this without it descending into some sort of lurid expose into Patient Anonymous' past experiences and dalliances. That is not what this is about. But I need to put how I made an interesting self-observation into context so that will necessitate some self-revelation. And really, if you've been following this blog at all--nothing should surprise you anymore. We're all adults here. If this shocks you or you find it "titillating," get your head out of your ass.

I have worn one of these. Several times. But not in a psychiatric setting. Many years ago, I did a tour of the BDSM/fetish scene. And yes, the Bipolar was in full swing (undiagnosed, untreated.) This is no "value judgement" on "the scene" or myself if you will, it is simply the point where I was in my life.

I was introduced to all of this by a friend who was involved and asked me to go to a BDSM safe practices session put on by a local advocacy group. I found it rather amusing that she thought I might be "interested." Sure, why not? So I attended with her and her male partner.

Interesting, indeed! Wow, they pulled out all the stops! There was so much to look at! Some items seemed as if pulled out of some kind of medieval torture chamber and others just looked kind of neat and fun! At a certain point, the session leaders asked for volunteers to put on some type of bondage gear and then share their experiences with the group later on. Oh, I was excited! Pick me! The offer for the straightjackets came up and several arms shot up in the air. I was selected. Now the cardinal rule of S&M is "Safe, Sane and Consensual." So if at any time, anyone became uncomfortable, or agitated in their "restraints" they were to notify someone immediately and they would be taken care of.

Oh my. What a strange feeling. I had never had my body placed in such a position. At first, it was incredibly awkward but I realized that if I didn't fight it, if I just relaxed into it... All of the sudden, something rather strange began to happen to me. I felt comforted like I couldn't believe! I sat in that straightjacket for hours! I honestly don't remember how long it was but it was most of the afternoon of the full day session. I didn't want to take it off!

I later met a man who owned two straightjackets (who also coincidentally was diagnosed with MDD and ADD.) We are still friends to this day. He also designed bondage gear. We both found it incredibly calming and soothing and would occasionally get together (outside of the public scene where we did this as well) and basically tie each other up in our homes for comfort! Other elements of sensory deprivation could/would/might be employed.

When things got really, really rough for me and I couldn't sleep, I would occasionally employ self-restraint techniques in order to somehow try and calm myself down. My friend even offered me one of his straightjackets but I never got the knack of getting in/out of one solo (Houdini, I am not.) I managed with some personal and self-styled gear.

Think this all sounds a little bizarre? Temple Grandin (along with my friend) may not agree. If you do not know her, she is Autistic and has done some work (but not limited to) The Calming Effects of Deep Touch Pressure. Now, I am not on the Autistic Spectrum and despite how many similarities I may think I have with my friends' Autistic son, I don't believe I would fit the diagnostic criteria. Asperger's might be the closest I could come and even that would be a stretch. But it is interesting to see the similarities with the ADD children. And I do and always have had some other "sensory" issues. Probably not enough to again, meet the criteria for Sensory Integration Disorder but still, it makes me think!

I've always loved being loaded down with extra blankets on top of the duvet or I'll even throw all my partially worn clothes on my side of the bed, just to have that "added weight." I've always loved the feel of restrictive clothes (tights, leggings, bodysuits etc...--not "nylons" or "pantyhose" though--the fabric needs to be heavier!) I've been like this since I was a kid!

And no, you don't need to go as far as Temple's "Squeeze Machine" if that sort of freaks you out. It does look a little scary. A lot of Occupational Therapists advocate the use of weighted vests or blankets with kids that are Autistic, ADD, PDD or have SID. The affects of these have not really been studied (and neither has Grandin's machine) but I did manage to find this.

Perhaps I've managed to trade some of it in for "chemical" restraints now? And no, I don't want to bring up the whole debate about restraint usage in hospitals/institutions. That's not what this post is about either.

And if any of you out there are giggling away, stop it right now. If anyone actually has any serious questions pertaining to BDSM, contact me privately and I may or may not answer them--depending upon if you cross any boundaries or if you are completely inappropriate.

Edit March 09 2007: Aspergers has now entered the picture in terms of my psychological/neurological profile. I am still awaiting "confirmation" or at least an opinion from two separate psychiatrists.

In The Line Of Fire: Inflicting My Bad Neurochemistry On Unsuspecting Tourists

Oh those poor, sweet, darling girls from England. I don't think they knew what hit them!

On the way home from work this evening, I was stopped by three young girls who I assume were visiting here. They were looking for a nightclub a mere couple of blocks away (from where we were and my workplace nonetheless) and yet, I could not manage to give them proper directions. I babbled on and on about what the club looked like and how it had several names for differents parts of it and the signs on it and how to sort of get there.

What on earth? I used to know my city like the back of hand, inside out, up and down, backwards and forwards. Conclusion? Meds make you stoopid. I can get lost in a teacup now. And nevermind that I could have provided ample landmarks that I walk past every day (like my own building!) That would have been far too easy.

And riddle me this? Why is it that whenever I meet someone with an accent (and always someone from the UK--England in particular) I start parroting them? I don't mean to. I've since learned through "sensitivity training" that this is completely unacceptable as you are "othering" people. That is to say, you are highlighting their differences and it can be perceived that you are being offensive.

But I don't mean to! It's just some strange thing that my brain does! And I have to put concerted effort toward stopping it and that is very hard to do when you are actually in the midst of trying to have an intelligent, cogent and sometimes rapid-fire conversation!

I used to be very good at dialects and all sorts of accents when I was a child. That's a great skill to hone should one want to pursue a career on the stage or in film. But I don't and didn't.

So apologies you girls, I hope you made you way to the bar and that I didn't sound like some bizarre hybrid Canuck-Londoner!

Addendum: Here's some information that sheds some light on the fact that nonconscious mimicry is entirely "normal!" Take a look.

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Patient Anonymous...?

...How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find a word that means Patient Anonymous? A flibbertigibbet! A will-o'-the wisp! A clown!

So I've been noticing that I've been rambling a bit during my posts. Forgive me. I'm really wondering if getting some stims will help. Afraid I won't know the answer to that one for a while.

And more imminently, How do you solve a problem like blogger?! I swear, since they've supposedly axed beta and they're migrating people over to who knows what (I haven't managed to see a difference although they say they're making whatever changes to "certain" people slowly...guess I'm a peon) things are an absolute disaster today. Worse than whenever it was a few days ago. I can't even view peoples blogs properly! So who knows if you'll even be able to read this let alone comment haha!

Now where were we...yes, The Sound of Music. They always play it this time of year even though it has nothing to do with Christmas. I've never understood that. But I do love the word "flibbertigibbbet!" And I do love Julie Andrews too. Actually, I think I had a crush on her as a little girl. Yes, I am willing to publicly embarrass myself on my own blog. I also had crushes on Olivia Newton-John and Lindsay Wagner (The Bionic Woman!) And of course, this was way before I knew anything about my sexuality--I was just a little girl (not that little girls don't know their sexual preferences, I just didn't.) Dear me, I was practically asexual until the bipolar hit.

As I got a little older, I developed crushes on "fey" boys. Gee, if that wasn't a clue? When I was 17, a boy I was dating broke up with me on Christmas Eve because he "thought he was gay." Of course he was. Oh the irony. I caught up with him later on in my 20s after I had come out and suggested getting together for a drink. He didn't seem so enthusiastic.

So I got to thinking about attractiveness and who I've found "attractive" or appealing over the years and vice versa. I mean, I am by no means beautiful. Somewhere between "cute" and "pretty," perhaps but by "society's standards...?" (thank you society for giving us women such a fucked up lens by which to define ourselves...) I don't know. I just think of myself as painfully average *sigh* I look in the mirror though and think, Would I pick myself up in a bar? Nah, don't think so!

For a while, many people have thought that facial or bilateral symmetry was the key to attraction. The press really took off with it and all sorts of "documentaries" were made, stories written. I recall seeing them and sort of fell into the trap? But in thinking about all of it today, it made me wonder. It may not be so "simple" as the geometrical designations of the infamous mask that can be applied to one's face to actually measure the symmetry.

Oooh. Looks spooky, huh?

But that's not all that's spooky. Take a look at this site. It's kind of annyoying so I apologize for that but even in it's "annonying-ness" it just further demonstrates how scary it is and again, how everyone really took to this whole bilateral symmetry thing. This place made a business out of it. Yikes. Now I am not an advocate of plastic surgery but to take the "leap" of science and use it for your business to remodel people's faces and then to stuff your pockets after all is said and done with the profits?

Here we have some interesting quoted studies about some work done re: bilateral symmetry and how it may not matter much at all--at least in terms of attractiveness. But wait there's more! Check out the stuff on how women recognize faces during various phases of their menstrual cycle (both on and off the birth control pill) and some controversial stuff on racial facial (hey that rhymes ha!) recognition.

If there's one thing that I've learned over the years it's simply this: a good looking face (or whatever else suits your fancy) won't help you at all over the years if you can't communicate and don't have at least a few core things in common with the person you ultimately end up with. Looks fade over the years as do a lot of other things that go along with "the physical"...it's the mental that sustains the relationship.

For Any Canadian Readers...Or If You Have A Big Satellite Dish?

I forgot to post this earlier. I watched this on television last night and it wasn't bad. If you can, check it out as it's airing a few more times on Radio-Canada and CBC.

I won't criticize it too much (or at all!) because...

Spoiler Alert!

Do not read any further if you do not want to know how this documentary ends...simply close your browser and exit my blog now.

Okay.

Ready?

I won't say much because well...the guy worked as a film/video director and after surviving his injury, he directed this project himself.

All About My Seizures

A lot of the time when people think about seizures, they get this mental image of someone dropping to the floor and flailing around like a fish out of water. I blame television and the movies for dramatic effect. Not that this can't happen with a tonic-clonic seizure but seizures come in many flavours. They're wild and wacky and I find them just fascinating! Yes, I want to be a neurologist when I grow up. But for some, they can be really debilitating and that's not good. For me, I've never really had any problems.

Simple partial seizures happen while you are still conscious (or you might lose just a wee bit of your awareness.) They are also called "auras" as they can lead to seizures where you do lose consciousness. Therefore, they really should be investigated even if you don't think you have a problem. I am generally aware enough to tell you that I am having one and can speak to you but I have difficulty keeping track of time in order to figure out how long the seizure is lasting--if that gives you an idea of how impaired I can become. And a lot of the time, my seizures have just made me feel really tripped out or kind of stoned so I haven't really minded them haha!

As a child, I experienced the following:

1. Muffled ambient sound (kind of a whooshing sound, like being underwater that would go back and forth from side to side)
2. Deja vu
3. Rapid changes in my heartbeat for no reason
4. Trunk spasms
5. Visual illusions in the form of scintillations or "seeing stars"
6. A weird sensation of "brain tingling" (I know, it sounds weird but I could *feel* my brain)

As I grew older, a lot of these issues just sort of seemed to resolve themselves. They just went away and I guess I "forgot." But when the bipolar started to hit in my early 20s, some of them started to come back a little bit. I find this very interesting due to the fact that bipolar disorder is treated with the very same drugs used to treat epilepsy. Now of course, not every person with bipolar has a comorbid seizure disorder but with some trigger and rapidly misfiring neurons, had this awakened my sleeping seizures?

Also, with the beginning of anticonvulsant treatment, my seizures were definitely affected. This is not unheard of as with new treatment or a change/titration of a med, your brain can get hit in an affected area and it just might take a bit of time to adjust. Theoretically, if it's the right med, things should even out.

As an adult, now with bipolar, all of the above came back, pretty much minus the trunk spasms and not so many scintillations but also:

• Depersonalization/Derealization (Woo Hoo! I'm floating away!)
• Body Image Disturbances (more specifically called micro/macrosomatognosia--aka, my hands/feet are too small or too big!)
• Jamais vu (that's my stuff but it doesn't look like my stuff and just where the fuck am I even though I know this is my desk...)
• Micropsia (why does my keyboard look so small--great when in conjunction with macrosomatognosia!)
• Epigastric rising
• Rapid eye blinking
• And my all time favourite, gelastic seizures

Now a bit of explanation about what the hell these things are. And no, you don't turn into a big rubber band or a gymnast. Gelastic seizures are rapid rushes of emotion (any kind!) out of nowhere. With me (luckily) it was humour. I've only ever had two but they were hilarious--literally. I would get all spaced out with some DP/DR and then, just start laughing uproariously out of nowhere and nothing was funny. I mean, nothing.was.funny. And wow, I was doubled over, uncontrollably laughing, busting a gut, drooling and then, *snap!* I was back to "normal," straight faced, like nothing had ever happened. Spooky, huh?

Now, there was one other rather "exotic" occurrence that befell me but it's unconfirmed. I'll add it anyway because hell, it's a great story and I believe that it really was "epilepsia partialis continua." You can read about it
here. Now, not to worry, I have neither any lesions nor Rasmussen syndrome haha. But the introduction pretty much lays out what I went through and if you scroll down to how it presents, that's a match too. This was, I believe, in large part due to my old arch-enemy Effexor and probably its partner in crime Wellbutrin. I was on them at the time plus a sub-therapeutic dose of Lamotrigine.

So, I'm on my way to work and the eyes start flickering. Okay. Is this going to turn into a "big deal" or will it just resolve itself? By the time I get into the building things have rapidly progressed (about 5 minutes) to my jaw thrusting and jerking. Soon, my neck joins this to make a trio. I begin to call my doctor but by the time I grasp the phone, my tongue starts drooping out of my mouth and I can't speak and I'm drooling like crazy. I'm not aphasic, mind you--I just physically can't speak because I'm twitching and jerking uncontrollably and my tongue is literally falling out of my face. Then the jerking starts to move down my right shoulder/arm and my hand starts to twitch.

At the time, the GP I was seeing was a mere couple of blocks away so I walked to his office and boy did I make quite a stir! I tried to write "Tardive Dyskinesia" with my left hand (I'm right handed haha) because no one could get a word out of me and this was prior to my whole seizure diagnosis--not to mention that I had been arguing with this doofus about whether or not I even had been having seizures. He did not believe me and said they were merely manifestations of "stress." Yeah. He was just about to reach for the Cogentin but then decided to send me to the hospital instead. I rotted away in the ER for hours when someone finally looked at me. By then (about 6 hours later) things had settle down a fair bit and I didn't appear in such dire straits. They made me walk a straight line and push/pull against the doc's hands and pronounced me "fine" and said "go home." I collapsed in a heap of post-ictal exhaustion and just slept. I can't even try to recreate what I looked like. It was seriously like being possessed like a demon. And it hurt! I was in so much pain! I didn't know your body could do that against your will! It's no wonder people feel like such utter shit after tonic-clonics!

I said TD because in post marketing, some stuff came back about Effexor even though Wyeth doesn't want to tie it to the drug. Yeah, no doubt. It's in the PI sheet (or at least one I read) and on RxList. And Wellbutrin? I don't think it's got the greatest track record and supposedly can "unmask TD."

I'm not sure about any other stuff Effexor did to me but when I drank on it the myoclonus sure got worse, I fell down a lot and even got a concussion once. And I would frequently wake up in a puddle of urine--a sure sign of nocturnal seizures. No neurologists were in bed with me *snicker* so no one can be sure, however. Still, I've never been so drunk in my life I haven't been able to make it to the bathroom so I'm pretty sure I was seizing then too.

Okay, guess that's it from seizure central.