Triple Diagnosis
I have what is known as a “dual diagnosis.” A dual diagnosis is usually described as an alcohol dependency history combined with a serious, long-term mental health condition. Actually, in my case, you could say I have a triple diagnosis. The second is Affective Bipolar Disorder and the third that of Asperger’s Syndrome or Autism Spectrum Disorder.
In 2020, I was hospitalized for the first time, at Northwick Park in London. I had been drinking a lot, though I was working in a precarious job at Lancaster University up North. I was a so-called “functioning alcoholic.” At the hospital, I was given my first diagnosis of alcohol-induced psychosis. I wasn't prescribed any medication, apart from an injected dose of Vitamin C. At medication times, when the other patients got their daily dose of risperidone and other anti-psychotic medications, all I got were the multivitamin gummies my partner had brought along for me.
After I left Northwick Hospital, I started drinking again. I was very unhappy in my hourly-paid job teaching languages and cultures at Lancaster, even though my colleagues were all really nice and encouraging—there simply wasn’t a full-time job available for me. I was drinking quite heavily, until, that is, I read a gay “quit lit” novel. The novel told the tale of an advertising guy who is forced to go to rehab by his employer, falls in love, and begins a new sober life. I wanted the life that was described in the novel. So I decided to quit drinking on the Summer Solstice of 2021. I haven’t looked back since, and now I am proud to say that I have been sober for almost three years.
It would be nice if that were the happily ever after moment of this blog post, though it sadly wasn’t to be. After I quit drinking suddenly, the withdrawal symptoms kicked in. I was hospitalized for a few nights at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, after which I was “sectioned” under section 2 of the 1983 Mental Health act and transferred to a mental health hospital in Milton Keynes. It was there that I got my second diagnosis: that of Affective Bipolar Disorder. The reasoning behind this diagnosis being that if you have been “sectioned” twice for psychotic episodes, it is more likely than not that you have bipolar disorder (sectioning is a euphemism used to sugarcoat what it really is: imprisonment in what used to be called a lunatic asylum).
At Milton Keynes, I was prescribed with one of the many sedatives available to treat manic or psychotic episodes: risperidone. I really hated its side effects. They make life seem less vibrant. Perhaps the worst side effect is the lack of interest in sex. So after a year or so, I managed to convince my regular NHS clinician to take me off the meds. I felt better, started working out and going on rides on my fixie again, and took pictures which I posted on a website and on Instagram. Unfortunately, it also meant that I experienced a psychotic relapse. I still remember becoming really excited about a new academic paper I was writing, and getting lightheaded and dizzy at the British Library. It wasn't before long or I was hospitalized at another mental health hospital, this time in Potters Bar to the North of London.
The clinician at Potters Bar was one of the first doctors who really took the time to assess me. He prescribed a new medication that doesn't come with any nasty side effects: aripiprazole. He also recommended seeing a psychiatrist privately for my follow-up care, the cost of which we were luckily able to recover through my partner’s insurance.
It was this third hospitalization which prompted me to explore something that has been on my mind ever since I was a young adult. I remembered reading a book about Asperger’s Syndrome—the less severe side of the autistic spectrum, sometimes called Highly-Functioning Autism—when I was 17 in a Francophone book store in Brussels. The symptoms prescribed in that French book gave me an immediate sense of recognition. I did some autism surveys with my private psychiatrist, who recommended I get an assessment. So I asked my GP (General Practitioner), who referred me to an autism service near to where we live. After jumping through some hoops and an unfortunate encounter with the police, I was allowed to bump up the ridiculously long waiting list. Not too long thereafter I got the diagnosis I could have received much earlier, autism being a lifelong condition.
So there we are: I have a triple diagnosis. It felt good to type this all up. I hope to document the rest of my mental health journey, including my experiences taking Clozapine (which I will start on Monday, a “hard” drug to take as my psychiatrist framed it) and talking therapy in this blog. I also plan to write about other things, like for instance questions of sexuality, class, and democracy. Now that I am no longer planning on being an academic I want to listen to my old Dutch teacher’s admonition to “not forget your pen,” and write about other things that concern me. Thanks for reading. Peace.