Recently, my husband of almost 20 years was diagnosed with bipolar affective disorder. This was the time when our world suddenly crashed. Luckily for us, the story ends well, but the journey was tough and intense at times.

Last summer we started on some home renovation. My husband was very much into it working hard, fast and efficiently. Just about the same time, he got a job out of town. It was, according to him, the greatest job. During the week, he was working hard at his job and spending the weekend renovating. At this point, he also got an evening job.

Gradually some behaviors grew from subtle to more obvious, and more annoying. He started talking in very long speeches; he would get into a lot of activities but would get distracted a lot. He also tended to be more irritable for no obvious reason.

In late November, my husband called home and told me he thought he had been fired from his day job. He had an appointment and saw his psychiatrist on Monday and set another appointment for the following Monday. Then he went back out of town since he still had an evening job to attend to. However, a few days later, he called home again. He was fired from that job too.

The next Monday, he went to his Psychiatrist appointment. Since, over the years, he had not reported everything to the doctor, I thought I should make sure the Psychiatrist had information about the odd behavior at home. I had faxed the Psychiatrist a letter stating some of the behaviors I had observed. There were six of them: irritability, talking a lot, talking in old English with an accent, doing a lot of things at once but easily distracted, making endless lists of things, and rapid mood swings. However, what was confusing me was that he was also very loving, very logical and even apologetic at times.

That afternoon, I got a call from the secretary telling me that the Psychiatrist had admitted my husband to the psychiatric ward. I was in shock. I had no idea what was going on. I called the ward and talked to my husband. He explained that the doctor had him involuntarily admitted but that it was a big misunderstanding. It was only going to be for 72 hours and then it would be all over. Finally, I managed to talk directly to the Psychiatrist and he explained that my husband was showing signs of a manic episode - a completely new concept for me. I asked if it had anything to do with the fax I had sent, and he assured me that it only confirmed what he saw in his office during the last two appointments. He insisted he would have gone the same route even if I had not sent that fax.

That evening, I went to see my husband at the ward. He was very upset at the whole situation. He was also very upset at me for having sent a note to the Psychiatrist without his knowledge. The more we talked, the more upset he’d get and the louder he’d get which was not his usual behavior. After about 20 minutes, he decided to leave and go back to his room. I stayed there, in shock, not having a clue what was going on. I just cried and cried alone in that interview room. Tons of questions were racing through my mind about his condition, our relationship, our future, the kids, his work, everything. And I had no answers and not even someone to ask the questions. Crying, questioning, doubting, feeling guilty became a daily events from that point, whether at work or at home.

Two days later, while on a two-hour pass, he came home for a few minutes before going to his parents’. He started arguing more and making threats about leaving us, etc. All that shook me greatly and after he left, I burst into tears. More questions and still little answers.

On Thursday morning my husband had accepted the voluntary commitment, but that afternoon he managed to get a 7-day pass. That evening was hard. He’d been somewhat irritable with the kids. After that he started arguing with me, still blaming me for it all and would come back with the fax issue. After much arguing, I finally suggested we call the ward. He took the phone and started questioning and questioning and arguing over details of the form the Psychiatrist had filled. We kept arguing until about 1AM that evening.

The next morning, my husband was up very early, in a very good mood. Later, we got a call from the ward saying that Psychiatrist would see us that same afternoon at two. Everything seemed fine and back to normal that day. After about half an hour of meeting, the Psychiatrist concluded that my husband needed to stay in the hospital. However, in view of the fact that voluntary status would allow him to check out at will, he decided to initiate the procedures for involuntary status.

The hearing was a notion absolutely foreign to us. I was a nervous wreck. What was it going to be? What would happen? Would I be allowed to be there? Would I be questioned? What were the possible decisions? What if the involuntary status was decided? What if? What if? What if? So many questions, so much emotion, so much anxiety. After all, it was my husband who could be locked up. I was quite scared of his reaction if he were to be kept at the hospital. I wanted what was best for him but I had no idea what that was. I had to rely on the Psychiatrist and the staff to tell me, and even that was not reassuring. Finally on the day of the hearing, the decision was to keep my husband for involuntary status. He took it surprisingly well and he thought it should be over in a few days. So did I.

The very next day, arriving home from work, I heard my husband’s voice. I immediately got very worried. I knew that something was wrong. One of the kids met me at the door and said, “Daddy came home, but the doctor did not know.” He was pretty calm, just making dinner, but when I questioned him about getting out, he admitted he had left without permission. He knew the police would come to pick him up, but he wanted to be home so much. Within a few minutes of me coming home, two police cars pulled up in the driveway. Three police officers came in the house where my husband was waiting for them. He did not offer any resistance. I was a passive witness to an event I never imagined could happen. And the kids were also present, silent and still. Everybody was so quiet. We were all shocked. I could only cry.

With various medication adjustments, he was doing better. Now, six days after his return to the ward, Psychiatrist gave him some day passes. The Psychiatrist asked me to watch for various behaviors, anything that could be out of the ordinary, and to report it because the Psychiatrist needed that information to fine tune the med combination. Next, the Psychiatrist gave him a 10-day pass, after which the doctor planned on discharging my husband. In the middle of the 10-day pass, a follow-up meeting took place (on Christmas Eve) with a psychologist. Late that afternoon, my husband got a call. The Psychiatrist wanted to see him at the ward the next day ... yes, on Christmas day.

We both went to the appointment. The doctor opted to do some more med changes. However, the idea of full discharge was temporarily put on hold as the Psychiatrist thought the meds had not yet stabilized his condition well enough. After the 10 days, his doctor decided that my husband would stay in the hospital during the daytime for a few days. Then the passes would get more open and he would even be allowed to be home several days at the time, without any supervision which was a very good sign. Everything finally led to his full discharge 54 days after the initial admission.

My husband is now doing well. He still works with the Psychiatrist who has made med adjustments a few times. Life, as hectic as it was during the first 4-5 weeks, came back to normal. All those odd behaviors gradually decreased during those 54 days and now, we do not see any of them. He is still taking medication. As much as I was scared and lost, I find that I was able to cope with those feelings. My best strategy during the worst time was to dissociate the person - the man I loved very much - from the illness, from the language I was hearing and the actions I was seeing. No, it was not easy, but I knew him well enough to know when something was just not him. I loved him before all this happened. I loved him during all that time and I still love him just as much.

Now, looking back, I can see that many of my husband’s problem behaviors developed gradually. I did see them but did not have a clue what they meant - the great energy, the productivity, the irritability, the habit of making long lists of everything, of writing on every piece of paper, the long speeches we could not follow, the mood swings, and so on. Yes, if I had been aware of what bipolar disorder was, I might have recognized those signs, but I was not. I could make myself feel guilty for not having seen those things but nobody ever told me they could indicate a problem. It was a combination of events and possibly perfect timing between them to catch it at the point the Psychiatrist did. I was told that if we had waited longer, say a month or more, things could have become much worse, even dangerous. I am grateful things did turn out the way they did. I was not happy about the hospitalization and the involuntary status, but I feel it was the best option. At least in the Psychiatrist’s opinion and since I do not know any better, I have to respect his professional opinion.

To all who may read this, I realize that some may have experienced less of a drama, while others may have had to deal with severe psychosis, or great financial troubles, or even legal battles due to a manic episode. However, when facing situations about a new diagnosis for which we understand very little beforehand, I can see that we can be absolutely terrified and overwhelmed with questions and concerns. It does not matter how many symptoms our loved ones are exhibiting, they can be scary. But please, get information, get involved, and find yourself a support system, whether it be another relative, a friend, a formal support group or even chat room support. You need it and if you take care of yourself in that way, you will be better able to support your loved one.

Talk to those who know firsthand, talk to professionals, seek help. When you feel you are drowning, it doesn’t matter how big the lake is, you want help. Call for it. And remember, receiving a diagnosis is like being given a map; it should help you go in the right direction.