My Lithium Miracle

by Gene Olson

My bipolar journey has no beginning. But my lithium journey started in the summer of '76, our nation's bicentennial, at American Lake, VA Medical Center, Tacoma, WA.

I am a Vietnam Veteran. My ship beached along the coasts of Vietnam, cruised up the Saigon River and anchored in the Mekong Delta. I never had to kill anyone, but saw many body bags. Times at sea and on watch, I'd play "mind" games to break the monotony. I could travel in my memory to astonishing places and events. It was a great exercise. Perhaps this is why all the Psych Wards I found myself as a "guest" remain so vivid, so clear, I can retrace every step.

I know there was a lot of research in the 70s at the Seattle VA Medical Center. The University of Washington and the VA had an excellent program. I was first diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic - a term probably used for everyone on the locked 7th Floor. Liquid Thorazine turned everyone into zombies. After the psychiatrist emptied my brain during sessions, I wanted my turn to ask questions. Maybe the liquid Thorazine prevented it.

After years of going through the revolving door at the Seattle VA, American Lake became my home for 5 months. I knew there was a lot of research going on here. From the Alcohol and Abuse Building I was transferred to Building 6. It wasn't long until I was locked in the "Blue Room." It was a small room, dark, with only a blue light bulb. Those who have been shackled know. Spread eagle, leather wrist straps, leather ankle straps, but the VA added extra precautions - a tarp from my feet to my neck tied underneath with ropes. I could not move one inch. Why? I threw an orderly to the ground and punched his face.

I told my doctor I would do anything for research. I meant it.

The "Blood Lady" came every morning with her basket. She left with a lot of my blood. After awhile a blue streak appeared on my arm. I could not move it. The "Blood Lady" stopped coming.

After lithium, the weeks slowly began to calm and make sense. Fear ceased, my mind more organized.

After 30 years I'm not sitting in a Psych Ward. My thyroid is enlarged, I drink liquids ALL the time and consequently must urinate often. I know the whereabouts of all restrooms in the Portland/Vancouver area. I just finished the final draft on my autobiography, Out of My Bipolar Life. If the 73,600 words are never published, it has been great therapy. Besides, my wife says I'm a good writer. And she is a medical doctor!