Day 353

The psychiatrists assumed that they should not speak to me about my son’s illness because he was antagonistic towards me during his manic phase, the time when they diagnosed him with Bipolar Affective Disorder. They sent him home, to live with me.

I assumed that they would tell me if there was something really serious that I should know, like the diagnosis, the trajectory of the illness being unpredictable and the mortality rate being higher than many cancers.

The psychiatrists assumed that the GP would be able to figure out the diagnosis from the Discharge Summary written by them.

The GP assumed that they would tell him more clearly and emphatically if there was something as serious as Bipolar Disorder.

I assumed that the GP would tell me that I was living with and looking after someone who had been having thoughts of ending their life almost on a daily basis. He prescribed some drugs and sent him home with me.

They all assumed that my ex-husband and I were educated people and would find out all the things that parents should know about their adult child’s illness.

I assumed that my son would say something to me if he was really struggling.

Everyone assumed he would get better. He assumed he never would.

None of these assumptions turned out to be true.

The things we assume!

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