Monday, April 12, 2010

Neuroscience Symposium at Yale

For a living, I make people laugh (radio broadcaster, VO talent, emcee, stage actress).  My hobby? Neuroscience.  It actually comes in quite handy, and not just in understanding my son's schizophrenia.

From the "Neuroscience 2010" symposium at Yale yesterday: Kay Jamison Redfield (An Unquiet Mind), award recipient, reminding us that love makes a huge difference in recovery. Re her late husband: "My rage was no match for his wit." How often it helps to keep a sense of humor, even in the middle of a loved one's crisis. Sometimes it's all you can do to locate your own sanity.

Big topic: early detection, possible prevention. According to John Krystal, MD, Chairman of Psychiatry at Yale School of Med, "brain changes associated with psychiatric illness can be prevented and reversed."  Another presenter warns us that "mental illness is like paraplegia of the brain - we can't change that it happened, but how we deal with it can make all the difference in quality of life." Hope, realism, acceptance - all echoed in one morning. 

But, clearly, if full psychosis can be prevented by alert professionals and family members, the outlook is better.  More understanding, less judgment, more hope.  Keep funding research, please!

Friday, April 2, 2010

Ben Behind His Voices - further out of the shadows

 Claire Gerus, my wonderful literary agent can be contacted at cgerus@comcast.net. The original titles of this memoir represent some of the changes we've gone through as a family since its original draft as To Hell and Half way Back, and first revision as No Casseroles for Schizophrenia: Family Lessons on the Journey to Acceptance. Present title: Ben Behind His Voices: One Family's Journey through Schizophrenia to a New Normal .

And, indeed, the "new normal" remains in progress - but there is happy news.  One of the reasons I wrote this book is to provide a vision of hope for families devastated by mental illness.  Many of the chapters spell out, all too realistically, the years of confusion and chaos, with sidebars of information I wish I'd had before Ben's diagnosis.  And we all know that recovery is hardly a straight, predictable road. But - recovery is possible, with a combination of realistic expectations and persistent watchfulness and hope.

Before the symptoms emerged in  mid-adolescence, one of Ben's most endearing qualities was his way with children - warm, insightful, loving. He was a sought-after babysitter and remarkable tutor. 

We lost all that under the illness for many years.  If you have gone through this in your family, I don't have to explain this any further.  But - Ben is still there, indeed, behind his voices, and he is emerging from the shadows more and more, with each day he stays on his meds.  This week I got to observe him teaching an art project to pre-schoolers (a homework assignment for a college class he's taking). I saw, for the first time in years, reminders of the patience, creativity and understanding he used to have with kids. 

It is possible.  It's not perfect, but it's possible.