Watching Family Suffer With Schizophrenia

Schizophrenia - schizophrénie

Schizophrenia – schizophrénie (Photo credit:

Here is a journal entry I wrote last night.

I hate having to watch my brother suffer. He developed schizophrenia about 6 years ago and it still affects him today. I don’t think people realize that. It was extremely tough back when he first got it because we weren’t exactly sure what was going on with him. We knew he wasn’t himself and wasn’t “in his right mind”.

He had been at a sports camp because back then he was really into running and competing in road races and track events. He still runs but his mind doesn’t seem to allow him the joy like he used to have. My parents picked him up early from camp because he had called and hadn’t been having a good time.

It was scary that first night he came home. He was crying and thought he was going to die. Looking back I think he probably had a panic attack but it was really scary at the time. My whole family was crying and not sure of what exactly was all going on with him. My dad called 911 and they took him to the hospital. The hospital didn’t see anything wrong with him but kept him overnight for observation.

The next day he came home. Because this was during harvest season and my dad was a farmer, he was on the field and my mom and oldest brother were at baseball or something like that. (I don’t actually remember where my mom and oldest brother were at this time. They may have been on the field too.) So it was my brother who came home from the hospital earlier that day and my two younger brothers at home.

I remember some of the details of that day very clearly. It was July 27th (it was my oldest brother’s birthday the day my second oldest brother came home from the sports camp). I was sitting on the couch watching a Winnipeg Blue Bombers game. Not long after Milt Stegall broke the CFL’s touchdown record, my brother started acting strange. Strange because it wasn’t normal for him.

Wrapped up in a blanket, he got up from the seat he had been sitting on beside me and walked out the door. I followed him because I was worried about him. He got into one of our vehicles and was going to drive to church because he wanted to be baptized. I tried stopping him and thankfully my mom thought ahead and hid all the keys to the vehicles. That didn’t stop him. He decided he was going to walk to church. We had a two-way radio in our house so we could communicate with people on the field. I quickly radioed my dad and told him what was going on. Then, I ran outside to try and stop my brother.

Just before he could cross the road, my dad drove up in a grain truck and got him back to the house. Later when my mom came home, they brought him to a hospital farther away but was more prepared to handle situations like my brothers. From there he was transported to the mental ward of a hospital in Winnipeg.

It took weeks to diagnose what he had as schizophrenia and it took even longer than that for them to get the right combination of meds to combat his symptoms.

It was a long process for him to get where he is now where most people wouldn’t realize he had schizophrenia unless someone said something about it. Even now when his symptoms start to rear their ugly head most people wouldn’t even notice. However, I know him well enough and am perceptive enough that I could tell they were rearing their head at supper time. He is aware of the symptoms and often takes meds when he needs to.

I’m glad he’s aware of them because otherwise he might have another relapse and that would be difficult for our family as well as him.

It’s difficult to see him suffer. I just wish I could take it away from him. It also occasionally wants me to make those who abused him at camp pay for how they treated him. (I don’t want to necessarily get into what they did as I don’t entirely know all the facts and don’t remember all of the details I had learned back then.)

It’s been about six and a half years since he first was hospitalized because of his schizophrenia and he’s never been the same since. My dad made a comment to me a little over a week ago that character/personality wise he was very close to being the same as he was before he got sick.

I’ve seen it at times too. However when things like this happen, I hurt for him.

Here I am, with tears in my eyes, wishing he didn’t have to deal with this illness.

People Watching Paradise

People Watching

The transit system is a perfect place to people watch. It’s amazing what you can tell about a person just by watching them.

You see all sorts of people too.

The woman who smiles at the little kid and reaches down to pick up something he drops without even hesitating. You know she loves kids and probably has grandchildren.

The girl who wears makeup and puts on more makeup while riding the bus. She also ignores the child completely. You can tell she cares a lot about her appearance and you wonder if she’s superficial.

The man who gets up to give his seat to an older woman without hesitating and as he sits down again because she said it was okay, asks if she’s sure. They are courteous and are a gentleman. You know it’s most likely not an act.

The couple who get off the bus and give each other a peck before walking to work. You know they love each other and have probably been together for a while.

The multitudes of people who listen to music, are on their phones constantly and those who read books on the bus. It all says something about them.

Even just the way people dress says something about them whether where they are possibly going, what their morals are, how they view themselves and others, etc.

I find it interesting seeing how many people have died their hair, as well as the differences between how different age groups dress. Today, there were a lot of high school/junior high kids on my bus in the morning and I found it a little disconcerting how some of the girls wore clothes that in my opinion showed too much skin.

There was also a teenage boy on the bus today who reminded me very much of a character in my book in progress. The way he looked and acted. It all reminded me of him and I would have laughed if I found out his name was Eric.

Judging A Book By Its Cover

I know there is a saying that says you can’t judge a book by its cover but I found this is not entirely true. To an extent, you can judge a book by its cover. The cover says a lot about a book just like the way you look says a lot about you.

I know when I read a book, the cover is the first thing that draws me to the book. If the cover of a book is not appealing to me I often won’t give it a second look. However, if the book’s cover is appealing and makes me interested in what it is possibly about, I pick it up and read the summary on the back.

The cover often gives some sort of glimpse into what the book will be about. Just based on the cover, you can often tell if a book will be a suspense novel, a romance novel, a non-fiction book, etc. If you don’t like the romance genre you will skip over a book that has a couple on the front making out. It’s just the way it works.

It’s the same with people in a way. What you are on the inside often comes out in your appearance or the way you act. If you’re into sports, the way you dress will most likely convey this to others.

So even though “they” say you can’t judge a book by its cover, it is only partially true. There are things you can gather by the way a book or a person looks.

However, with that being said, people need to be aware that there is more to a person than just their looks and sometimes people will surprise you. People are complex and you can’t tell everything by what they look like nor should you try.

Jimbo is always watching

Jimbo is always watching (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

P.S. You could say I’m always watching so be aware of this when I’m in the same room as you.