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AS our children grow up, many of us keep mementoes of their early years - a picture, a poem, or perhaps a school exercise book.
In our case, we also have a diary, though it isn't the sort of diary that some people would treasure. For it is a record of our 25-year-old daughter's thoughts and activities during the two weeks before she was committed to the psychiatric ward of a public hospital.
The diagnosis, after preliminary, further, and final assessments of her condition: schizophrenia. We weren't surprised, as her symptoms had become unmistakable to anyone who was closely associated with her.
Over a period of five years, irritability had been succeeded by anger and aggression, and she had become withdrawn, humorless and delusional. Her thinking was obsessive, and characterized by a tendency to read sinister intent into the most innocuous actions and occurrences.
Although she had a range of symptoms, it is this paranoia that appears first, and which is predominant, in the diary:
- December 11, 1995: "From about this time onwards, I heard cars stopping outside the [boarding] house in the middle of the night and leaving the motor running and then leaving again."
- December 17, 9.50pm: "Heard a white car stop close by. . . When I reached the house I took the car number down. The driver was nowhere to be seen so I left. Upon reflection, however, I think he must have ducked down in his seat. . ."
In the next two entries, she expresses a suspicion of prowlers around the house, before returning to the subject of loitering cars:
- December 19, 4.30am: "I woke up and heard a car outside the house. The car was parked and the motor was left running. It was there for about 15 minutes so I became suspicious and rang the police. I asked if they could drive down Granville Road to make sure everything was okay. I then called a taxi and tried to find a place to stay for the rest of the night."
This entry is followed by an account of a fruitless attempt to find alternative accommodation and of her return to her boarding house at 7am.
- December 19, 8am: "I heard a car outside the house again, with its motor running. . .
I rang the police and asked them about my request earlier in the morning. I also told them that there was a car outside the house, which seemed very suspicious. . ."
- December 19, 10.37pm: "I heard a car take off outside my house. The driver seemed to say: 'It's you'."
As the gremlins closed in, nowhere was safe. The only solution was to stay one step ahead of them by making sudden, random moves that would throw them off the scent. Hence the "itinerant lifestyle", which saw our daughter traipse through a bewildering succession of motels, backpackers' hostels, and boarding houses.
It was a "lifestyle" that left her exhausted and unable to cope with even the simplest tasks, such as preparing food and keeping track of her possessions. It also took a physical toll, as the next entry reveals:
- December 20: Ï went to the hospital, because I had a pain in my left side. I saw a woman doctor and an assistant called Janette. They carried out a series of tests. . . The doctor told me she thought I had coscocondritus, which is an inflammation of the tissue between the ribs and the breastbone. I was given four tilcotil tablets - one to be taken each day."
Didn't the doctor realize she was dealing with a psychiatric case? One would like to think the prescribed pills were a placebo. But knowing how convincing our daughter could be, it's far more likely the doctor was taken in - as several others were.
In an interview situation, the psychotic person is sometimes able to present extremely well. So I wasn't surprised when I heard from the hospital, a few days after our daughter's committal, that she had insisted on her legal right to be interviewed by an "independing psychiatrist", who hadn't been able to see what the problem was.
"Oh no!" What on earth are we going to do?" I said to her hospital psychiatrist. I feared that, under the terms of the Mental Health Act, she would be discharged if, in the opinion of the Family Court, she didn't meet the criteria for compulsory treatment.
Ï think this calls for some collusion," the hospital psychiatrist said, indicating that he would slip the case notes to the independent assessor. The ploy worked, and we were able to keep our daughter in hospital until she was well on the way to recovery. But it was a close call.
- In the four years that have passed since our daughter's discharge and return to the family home, she has become an active member of the Schizophrenia Fellowship, has always followed medical advice, and has never had a relapse.
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