Do Nothing for 2 Minutes: Recommended

http://www.donothingfor2minutes.com/

Sincerely,

Jonathan Harnisch

Our Need To Be Honest >> Porcelain Utopia

Our Need To Be Honest

How Are You?

Broken. Useless. Alone. Clueless. Confused. Betrayed. Fragile. On the Verge of Tears. Depressed. Anxious. About to Break Down. Pathetic. Annoying. I'm just a burden. Distant. Lonely. Bitter. Heartbroken. Rejected. Crushed. I Feel Like I'm Going to Just Fall Apart at any Moment. Empty. Defeated. Never Good Enough.

Fine.

Jonathan Harnisch

Hyponatremia

RE: JONATHAN HARNISCH - DAY ONE: HYPONATREMIA

I thought about whether or not to blog, though to start with my definite need to thank you all for your letters of support and encouragement since yesterday's brief 'getting the news' blog. This does present an open door to unselfishly keep this topic of Hyponatremia or whatever it’s called as an open topic for this blog, this website—after all it is, of course, a perfect opportunity to blog but also to heal and to overcome. It’s perhaps relevant to the mental illness aspect as well as the “overcoming obstacles,” and documentation, of you will, of Porcelain Utopia; how I might get through this diagnosis by seeing the negativity as a challenge, an opportunity, and as something to share—adding more to the story of this complex, sometimes a mean, jerk, that I can be, an unpredictably a good person at times, and one who has and continues to go 'through the ringer,' as I call it, over and over again, perhaps more than one who is not diagnosed with the devastating illness I have been given—not to diminish another's so-called simple anxiety and what-not—as I say, it’s all matter of degree and how the individual perceives his or her own condition, situation, or stress.

I, of course, must continue to walk my talk. My whole mindset of this, forgive my language, but this crap, this “detour” in my own, already f@#ked up life, yet I do—I really do tend, these days, to grow through all of this—this life situation—as seeing more of the positivity and opportunity though the overall 'Utopia.' What I refer to as the tagline of PU reads: The 'Angel Demon Human dichotomy,' to me, it means something to the effect as I publish erotica and hard core rap, then all off a sudden, I seem to reach Zen, and angel-talk, then I vent, I get upset, I hallucinate, then I reach bliss—the rollercoaster of it all. Think about it: a real bad example comes to mind but take the nicest, good-natured person—for sake of this example, let’s choose the altogether/could-do-no-wrong Tom Hanks—let’s imagine (the idea) that in his private life—(even better, the Dalai Lama—!)—Let’s assume he’s got some kind of skeleton in his closet as we all do. He might dress in women’s clothing and has very explicit “affairs” in his personal life—OK? Maybe he does not, but, I have skeletons—I believe at this point they’re all public knowledge now, because I had been so closed up that it bothered me, and I don’t need to keep a job that’s on the line if I “tell,” I have nothing to lose—I have the 'ticket'—the opportunity to literally be that guy who can, but who I feel does, open up 100%. After all, I was addicted to crack cocaine alone: I therefore have (yet luckily I have no STDs etc., or unplanned children—but yes, I did all those things... I behaved 'like a crack head.' I was sure lucky as all hell I have no criminal record, etc., but I—let’s just say for now—I did all that. And lived to tell. Prostitutes, gambling, and drunk driving. I made out OK overall and have never injured anyone. I bottomed out, and learned my lesson. I changed and grew, and continue to do so. I am a writer (even the fiction) a lot because my experiences in these last 36 years have been unbelievably mind-blowing.

Nonetheless, this particular post is/should be perhaps more centered on my intent: about this new diagnosis, though Hyponatremia is more of a physical disease; this new battle in my life. Yet, let’s hope, as I do hope that it actually is “likely nothing, after all…” I really do not have the drive this morning to write, nor to even be on the computer but I feel I owe it to you, and to update you all—all 30,000 to 300,000 people per day, to perhaps inform, and document the best as I can through this new process.

First hearing the news, then the panic process, the grief, to wanting to just 'die now and get it over with.' I’m sure my attitude will change over time, and as I’m likely destined to the ICU unit at some point, tests after tests, complex and frustrating for both doctors and patient, as the treatment involves a lot of trail and error aspects, testing, retesting, analysis, and decicions. The Mayo Clinic, my sociopathic family thus getting involved—though I no longer have any relationship with them. They simply keep and spend my $2 billion inheritance money stemming from that one forged signature and notary in 2009 which gave them their full 100% control, and this whole 25 million people in my social network—virtual, but it is real: real people. Real interactions; the whole point of the Internet and social networks. This site cost me $30 and zero dollars for advertising—so I do owe it to you and I guess in a way, to myself. I have been up all night reading, taking online crash courses on iTunes U and listening to medical podcasts, learning about all the medical terms, and information concerning this unfortunate diagnosis, which I did sign up for, you know, somehow, 'astrologically,' but I wish I didn’t.

I’m loaded up on prescribed as-needed PRNs/medication—tranquilizers, anxiety meds, even Klonopin—and I am still in panic mode—the whole big picture of Porcelain Utopia and what it means to me makes up my entire life and purpose—I don’t want time away from it. I’ve earned this and deserve it, and you all have sent me about 200 emails through the contact form overnight—mostly complete strangers to me, and a ton of doctors. Thank you.

Following, are some of my initial thoughts and notes. Whether or not this condition is able to treated in the end. I have already gone through a game plan with my wife and medical team: to start—deep breath, positive attitude and only one liter of water per day for 3 days, onto the first blood and urine analysis—boom: done. If I fail, I'll pick myself up, dance the “schizophrenic shuffle” [sarcastic humor] and re-start, re-set, re-group and re-try.

…Getting there, as I can and as I choose.

I had been drinking 4-5 gallons of water per day for the last two years, I am not supposed to drink anything else, nor diet poorly, so I do everything they say and now I have to eat junk food and sugar and not water, but instead sodas, and then do what I have to do: test after test, ICU, Mayo Clinic likely, and then it’s either a day, a week, or a year—who knows—that will end up seeming afterwards as, “Well, that was sure a waste of all our freaking time—”

Initial email:

“Hey Close Personal Friend/Medical Doctor: What do you know about Hyponatremia, without just being optimistic just because we are friends? I have been diagnosed with it, and would like to know of life expectancy and things since I'm not up for another disease (heart and kidney I think, low sodium, drinking too much water?) First they said rid the drugs and alcohol. I did 10 years ago. Then drink as much water as possible. I did that, too. Then lower caffeine. I did. Then sugar and salty foods. Now I'm supposed to eat junk food especially salt, and drink as little water as possible, even add sugar. I'm freaking out like WTF! you know? My wife and all the doctors and caregivers knew these past 2 weeks, and I was just told a couple hours ago, "at the right time for Jonathan since his day was going so well." Have to go in for all these f@#king tests, and sh*t (please excuse my language) I'm just venting because, just g@d d@mn it, you know? Chronic heart and kidney disease? Is that what it is? Can you let me know whatever you know? At the moment, I just want to die—right now—forget the wait time and suffering, yet not by suicide, of course—all my life I had wanted to die, until 2011. Now it’s 2012 and I might get what I had only-before 'prayed for'—just to get it the hell over with. You know? I am sure this is all a semi-normal reaction to receiving news like this. Thank you for hearing me out. –J.”

Immediate Reply:

“Yo! J.—

OK, Here is my advice given strictly as a friend!

Hyponatremia (as I think you know) means low levels of sodium in the blood.  It is important to remember that this in itself is a non-specific finding, meaning that the underlying cause of the condition must be discovered and treated. There are a SH*T-LOAD of things that can cause Hyponatremia. That is why your doctors want to do some more tests, so they can figure out exactly what is going on. Lots of the reasons are harmless and easily corrected, such as drug and diet adjustments. So all in all, I think you should take this seriously, but not jump to conclusions. Once the doctors know what is causing your sodium levels to be low, the treatments will present themselves. This is one of the things in medicine that all patients (and their doctors) hate, having to wait to get to the bottom of the problem. When is your next round of tests? Have they done any treatments so far?

So, in summary, take a deep breath, say your favorite mantra and focus your healing, balancing energy inwards. The whole world is sending healing vibes and love your way—Can you feel it? And that is a good approach to ANY medical question!:)

PEACE AND LOVE. I hope that helps!”

Facebook:

General Note to personal friends who wrote me loving notes: I thank you all:

“Hi Friends: I stayed up all night reading about this BS and talking with my doctor friends. I haven't changed my water intake. Thank you for the posts. I did not know so many cared as you do. Apparently, it’s relatively common (1%) and is in fact low sodium in blood. One of my early Schizo voices said I would die of a blood disease so it has been freaking me out, and still is. I already reversed diabetes, eat no sugar, dropped the caffeine, lost 100 pounds, survived Schizo, severe Tourette, trauma, brain injury, drug & alcohol addiction (10 years in January) overcame cancer in Mexico twice, and I still smoke and chew, and loss of all family, old friends and a gigantic financial fortune! —My old and gone Hollywood and Wall St. life—I did not “sign up” for this. It is frustrating and complicated for both docs and patient with this blood disease, I'm told, and likely I'll end up in ICU unit with 60% mortality rate, as I see it. I read a lot about it and contacted all I could in my social network with my mental heath work online. Basically they all said take a deep breath and stay positive. I slept an hour or two and just woke up. Thx. -J."

Will try to keep you posted. Thank you again for all your support and reaching out.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Harnisch

-via iPhone

Mobile Update: Hyponatremia

FROM YESTERDAY/GROUND ZERO:

16 March 21012

Just heard news I've some kidney and heart disease: Hyponatremia-good day but was just given the news-total buzz kill-I'm going to die of WATER!??? I was just told about this "at the right time for me to hear"--Schizophrenia, etc., etc., & now this Hyponatremia nonsense-Just in that "freaking out about the news" moment. Yikes have I been thru the ringer.

More Info on Hyponatremia:  http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001431/

Sent from my iPhone

Next Porcelain Utopia Post on Hyponatremia http://www.jharnisch.com/hyponatremia-01/

STRESS: WORRY VS. CONCERN

STRESS:

WORRY=emotional/hurtful

CONCERN=intellectual/helpful

You choose...

Sincerely,

Jonathan Harnisch

[caption id="attachment_2097" align="alignnone" width="64" caption="-J. Harnisch"][/caption]

Hope is the Magic Pill >> Porcelain Utopia

[caption id="attachment_11666" align="aligncenter" width="600"] www.porcelainutopia.com[/caption]

Re-post from 30 January 2012

CALL ME A NARCISSIST:

♥ Call me a narcissist but I'm amazed I can even write this simple status update-and so much more. ♥ Having a $X,XXX,XXX,XXX inheritance squandered (not by myself), overcome cancer (in Mexico, twice, and still smoke & chew, cancer-free), lost entire family to tragedy, overcome so many disorders (most noticeable: Schizoaffective & Tourette's)-now, resurfacing diabetes-lost 100 pounds (without exercise)-I'm coming on 10 years off severe alcohol & crack addiction. Thank U! That saves me a session with the doc!

I Love Life & All of U! ♥

Thank you to all who took the time to share the good ole Teddy Roosevelt post and the latest "Best Day of Your Life" piece. My audience and the public used to be my worst enemy, now my best friends--all of you, no matter where or who you are--I find it mysterious and spiritual and invaluable that we're all connected in some special way...

My left hand and leg are 100% numb due to low blood sugars (ironically not too high!). I struggle physically, and  dizzy as my illness makes me, as "crazy," eccentric, weird, funny, charming, with my very odd sense of humor, peculiar demeanor, which always seems to change:

"What's Jonathan Harnisch going to do next, say next?"

My Angel-Demon-Human/Inspirational/Sometimes "Erotic"/Transgressive/Being Real...

BEING MYSELF.

...HERE'S ENCOURAGING ALL OF YOU TO OPEN UP.

DON'T LET ANYTHING [AT ALL] BRING YOU DOWN. 

COUNT ON HOPE...

EVEN WHEN YOU'RE OTHERWISE SEEMINGLY

ALONE

IN THE WHOLE ENTERPRISE.

TRUST ME ON THIS ONE.

HOPE

"...It works. It does the trick. It's the "Magic Pill."

Jonathan Harnisch

So Here Goes

Restored Post from March 15, 2012

Blog Post from my wife Maureen Cooke's page: http://www.maureencooke.com about living with someone who is mentally ill.

So Here Goes:

A couple days ago, I posted The Go Ahead, in which I explained that Jonathan had told me to write as honestly and forthrightly as possible and not worry about hurting his feelings.

A dandified Jonathan

So here goes – and know that it’s still hard – because I still worry that some of what I write may,  indeed, hurt his feelings, and I don’t want to do that. And, yet, I would be doing a grave disservice to the credibility of these blogs and what I hope will be the memoir of my experiences with Jonathan.

So big intake of breath here, square the shoulders, raise the chin, and get started:

In July 2010, when Jonathan checked into Colorado Recovery, he was on, what I can only refer to as, a shitload of meds. He was on 3 different anti-psychotics: Geodon, Zyprexa, and Risperdal; he was on an anti-depressant: 80 mg of Lexapro, which in all likelihood, was responsible for the rapid cycling of his moods; he was on a mood stabilizer: Lamictal, a mood stabilizer; a tranquilizer: Klonipin, and, on his own, he was taking Benadryl, generally 10 to 20 pills a day. A few tabs of Benadryl would have helped eliminate the dystonia caused by the anti-psychotics, but in the quantities he was taking only attributed to the psychosis. SeeDiphenhydramine-induced psychosis, if you’re interested in the topic.

The staff at Colorado Recovery was able to get Jonathan on the right meds much more quickly than his doctor here in Corrales would have been able to do, treating him as an outpatient. Reducing psychotropic medication quickly needs careful medical supervision and is really better done as an inpatient. Still, as drastically as his medication was adjusted in Colorado, when he came home in October 2010, he was still on very high doses of Risperdal.

A couple problems with anti-psychotics: They cause weight gain, which in turn causes an increase in blood sugar, which in turn can cause metabolic syndrome. Anti-psychotics may be necessary, but they are not without significant, dangerous side effects.

In addition to the more dangerous side effects, the anti-psychotics can also cause lethargy, and schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder can cause apathy, so initially, when Jonathan came home, he spent most of his day lying on the couch. Pretty much doing nothing.

One day, I came home from shopping and was carrying in bags of groceries. Jonathan stayed on the couch. He didn’t get up, didn’t offer to help, and, in all honesty, I’m not sure he even noticed I’d gotten home.

When I came into the living room, there he was lying flat on his back, headphones on, staring at the ceiling. He noticed me, took off the headphones, and then said: “I know you hate the apathy. I read inSchizophrenia: A Handbook for Families that it was the one symptom that families hated the most. Well, I can’t help it.”

And maybe I could have been more tactful in my response, but what I told him was, “No. Why would I care if you spend the whole day on the couch? It’s not what I’d do, but I don’t have schizoaffective.”

“It’s a negative symptom,” he told me. “It means I don’t have any interest in anything. And it’s not my fault.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you still blame me.”

“No, Jonathan,” I said. “No. I don’t. And the apathy? I couldn’t care less about it. What’s hard for me, what I don’t know how to handle is your negativity. Your assumption that I’m finding fault with you when I’m not. When I’ve never found fault with you. That’s what I have the hardest time with.”

The negativity is closely linked to the paranoia, so that for Jonathan to tell me that he knows the biggest problem I have is with his apathy, he’s making an assumption about me, and it’s an incorrect assumption.

However – and here comes the paranoia – my trying to talk it out with him doesn’t resolve the issue. He thought for the longest time that I was silently criticizing him for lying on the couch. (By the way, he no longer lies on the couch all day. Amazing what the right combination of meds, in the right doses, can do. Western med isn’t all bad.)

And because of the thought problems from the schizoaffective, he wasn’t really hearing me about the negativity. In addition, the negativity so frequently leads to paranoia that when he’s in that space, I can’t reach him.

The problem with the negativity – for me – is that by nature I am a positive person. I default to optimism, to liking people, to feeling hopeful. That is my natural state.

However, if I am around negativity or despair, such as the case with my Luther Dad (I think after my mom died, he sank into despair, which didn’t abate until he himself died in 1990), the negativity gets in. At a psychic or soul level.

If I am around negativity in short bursts, I can block the energy. I can take my mind and emotions elsewhere, but I don’t really want to disengage from my own husband, and yet I can’t afford to let that level of negativity get in. It’s not healthy for me, and ultimately it’s not healthy for him.

An example (and this is related to the medication issue, as well): I have been ill since the beginning of November with a flare-up of Hashimoto’s, which is an auto-immune disorder and which reacts very badly to stress.

And I have had a very stressful week, which began with my inability to get into the safe where I keep Jonathan’s meds. That was on Monday night. The stress that I was feeling about the safe breaking was causing my thinking to deteriorate, which made me weepy. I wasn’t thinking right. And I’d had a misunderstanding with Jonathan; I thought he was ignoring my request to help me try to get the safe opened.

Jonathan’s doctor, in the meantime, and one of his caregivers were wisely advising me to let the safe issue go until the morning. I couldn’t. That part of my brain that could pull me out of my own level of paranoia that Jonathan wasn’t willing to help me was also making me “decide,” as I told both his doctor and caregiver that if Jonathan wasn’t willing to help me get the safe open, then I wasn’t going to replace the meds, as the doctor suggested, or let the caregiver help me in the morning.

I told them both that if Jonathan wasn’t willing to help me, then he didn’t need his meds.

See? My mind isn’t working right. Even as I was saying it, I knew my mind wasn’t working right because Jonathan needs his meds.

Then I decided what I’d do is stay at a motel for the night (I was already in my pajamas and thought that was a good thing because that way I wouldn’t need a suitcase.) Then I thought that checking into a motel in my pajamas was a bad thing, so I figured I’d go for a drive. It was 15 degrees out, and the roads were icy. And a friend texted me ALL IN CAPS to please, please be careful that the roads were treacherous.

It was about at this point that I sat down and cried.

Because of the Hashimoto’s, or something else, it is taking me a very long time to recuperate from that level of stress, so when I saw my endocrinologist the next day, I was still stressed, still weepy, so when she asked me how I was feeling, saying I looked sad, I started to cry.

This is not a doctor who handles crying. She excused herself, telling me she had to check on a client and would be right back. When she returned, she told me that my thyroid levels wouldn’t be causing such emotional lability, and she would prescribe Armour, but she didn’t want me to take it until I coordinated with a holistic psychiatrist.

I felt dismissed and frustrated and a lot like I’d never be well again. I cried all the way home.

When I got home, two of the caregivers listened to me and hugged me and suggested I call my therapist, which I did. My therapist, in turn, suggested I see an integrative physician, who may be able to help me get to the bottom of what’s going on with me.

However, the stress of Monday and Tuesday left me still stressed on Wednesday and a bit stressed on Thursday. I’m not at my normal baseline. I’m limping.

Thursday, Jonathan had a manic episode, which led to his being angry with his doctor and which led to him texting me that she never listened to him, didn’t believe that he needed to increase his meds, and the he didn’t want to see her again. That he was done with her.

It is his doctor’s opinion, and mine as well, that my being ill, especially with my emotions being so out of whack, results in a loss of predictability in Jonathan’s environment and exacerbates his symptoms, and as uncomfortable as those symptoms may be that before Jonathan’s meds are increased permanently, we should wait until I am better to see if that helps bring Jonathan’s symptoms back under control.

My position, just as I already indicated, is that psychotropic medication has serious, dangerous side effects. My own uncle died from a heart attack at 40 because he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia back in the late 50s, when patients were routinely given huge amounts of anti-psychotics, which led to my uncle having metabolic disorder, which killed him.

I don’t want that for Jonathan, and I’m sure his doctor doesn’t want that either.

But when Jonathan gets in that space, it feels to him as if no one is listening to him, no one is hearing how horrible he feels, and there is no way for me, when he’s in that space, to reach him, to reassure him that I do care how horrible he feels, but that a permanent increase in medication is not the answer right now.

I am not opposed, nor is his doctor opposed, to his increasing his meds; however, she (and I) want to make sure that a permanent increase is absolutely necessary.

Seeing Jonathan uncomfortable, seeing him manic and paranoid and angry, is stressful for me. In October, before all this thyroid stuff started, I was able to maintain the equilibrium necessary for me to ride this out – to reassure him without being drawn in to that level of negativity about his doctor.

Now, it’s additionally stressful because it requires more physical energy for me to accomplish that. I won’t see the new doctor until January 3, and, in the meantime, I’m in a holding pattern.

So this morning, when I got up, Jonathan was already awake. He told me he’d read my Facebook post from yesterday, in which I’d written it had been a long day in a long week. Jonathan said, “That was because of me, wasn’t it?”

I told him, “No.”

He then started talking about one of the caregivers and how horrible she had been to him; he called her a name, and I stopped him, told him that I desperately needed a positive day. That I could not go to any negative space today, so please if he was angry, tell me he was angry, but don’t call anyone names, especially someone I like.

“See,” he said. “I knew that post was about me.”

I sat down with him then and explained to him what had happened on Monday, how that had carried over to Tuesday, how dismissed I felt by my doctor, and how hard it was to keep being my own advocate for my health care.

He asked if I were being resistant to the suggestion that I need psychiatric care. I told him ‘no,’ that I’ve been in and out of therapy for nearly 40 years, and that I wasn’t opposed to taking a psychotropic drug if I needed one, but that I wanted to get to the bottom of what’s been going on with me, and that a psychiatric problem, such as depression, would not cause my vision to be blurry and sometimes double, would not cause an inability to regulate my temperature, and that I needed a doctor who would get to the bottom of what was happening to me physically before I would start drugging what I see are the emotional symptoms of an, as yet, untreated auto immune disorder.

So…. what I’ve been going through for the past few months, and what I’ve written here, is what it’s like in the “real world” of living with someone with a serious mental illness.

This is no Benny and Joon. There is no quick fix. No cool music from the Proclaimers. No Johnny Depp doing Buster Keaton impressions. Living with someone with a serious mental illness is hard. It can be done, and people can thrive, but it is difficult; it requires commitment, emotional resiliency, and a tremendous amount of outside support.

So thank you to:

J’s caregivers,
His doctor, 
His therapist, 
and my own therapist.

With their help, with their support, I feel hopeful, even as I recognize I am still out of whack and will probably continue to be out of whack for at least the next few months.

Thank you.