I hate bipolar. I do. It is a sucky thing to have and to witness. My Poppy (my Uncle who raised me--and I consider him my Daddy) is bipolar. He is a disabled vet of Vietnam. Paralyzed from mid chest down. Lost both legs in the last 5 years due to poor circulation. Has gone off the deep end on several occasions.
And now again he is off in his own world. He isn't the best about taking his meds. Or rather he will be good for a while--maybe a year--then go off them. Drink. Stay up for days. Not eat or take care of himself. Then he gets bad pressure sores that get MAJORALLY infected.
And his mind. wow. On Saturday he went "shopping". Have you ever seen a bipolar go shopping?? When they are on a high!? It's bad. He just bought $1500 worth of guns. THAT is scary. Later today me, my brother (who Poppy is close to) and Mimi ( his wife and my Aunt/Mother) are going to do an intervention of sorts. We have to convince him to go to Houston to the VA Hospital. He is convinced that The Houston VA is out to "get him"--so it will be hard. But he HAS to go. His butt is infected. He is trying to get my Aunt to cash a $30,000 cd for him. So he can go buy what? Guns for everyone he knows? A car? A sailboat (he has bought these things in the past!)?
Think of me...I have a love as deep as the ocean for this man. And today he will be mean to me and I to him. He will say hateful things to me. And crazy things. And I will say ANYTHING to get him help. My Daddy is sick. And I just want him well. And alive.
I wish I could kick Bipolar in the ASS! I hate it.