A survivor

Ben Goossens

We were a happy well-adjusted family for so many years. My husband had been manager in mills in two regional towns and at one stage when we moved to Brisbane bought a poultry farm which we ran for nine years. We had three children, all high achievers. Our daughter, a librarian, was married with three sons and a daughter. Our eldest son was a veterinary surgeon. However, this tale is about our youngest son, Ted, who excelled at school, playing in the cricket team, captain of the tennis team and was Dux of the school when he was seventeen. He went to university and spent two years in a cadetship with BHP in Newcastle, studying chemical engineering.

Then came a big change in Ted's life. He gave up his job and studies and came home to do his ownthing. After a few months at home, during which time he started saying and doing strange things, he wrote some weird letters to radio stations and politicians and even to the Pope. He was very paranoid and began to speak about religion in an abnormal way. This was terribly distressing for my husband and myself. The next thing we knew was that Ted set off to walk to Cairns, Bible in hand to preach the Gospel to the world. There seemed to be nothing that we could do. Much later, he returned home, unkempt, weary and very thin. It was obvious to us that he was anything but well.

We were able to get a consultation with out G.P. who suggested that we get him into hospital. Well, that was not easy to do and after completing all the paper work for an involuntary admission, Ted was escorted, by two police officers, to the old Lowson House at Royal Brisbane Hospital. It was one of the hardest things we had to do, but it was necessary for his safety. We were never forgiven for doing that to him and years and years later, Ted sometimes says that being taken to hospital was the cause of all his troubles. After two more admissions, he was told to pack his things and find somewhere else to live. We have no idea why, but presumed that he had told the psychiatrist that he couldn’t get on with his father.

Ted then moved into a sordid flat but eventually came home. From that time on, he had several jobs and even managed to organize and take two trips to India, which he loved. The first trip was with friends and the second, on his own. This was where he was becoming informed about other religions, which was all very fine, if he had not become obsessed over it and if it had not begun to influence his life with detrimental results to his physical and mental health.

After another job, Ted had money again, so went to visit his sister in New Zealand, where she was living with her husband and four children. There followed several more trips to hospital, between which he went to Perth, then landed a job in Adelaide. That was in 1976 and since then, he has never worked at all.

It seemed that Ted was experiencing dreadful symptoms of schizophrenia with delusions, hallucinations, audio and visual, the worst of which still worry him – the persecution of the voices from the radio stations goes on and on every day. This is his reason for smoking cannabis, to have a few hours free of thevoices. Then follows the awful hangover and depression, so he needs more to blot out the pain again. It is a vicious cycle, but he will never admit that it has any detrimental effect and like so many others, will never give it up.

While all this was going on for Ted, what was happening for the rest of the family? My husband retired and became a ‘happy gardener’ and we spent many hours visiting the most interesting sights outside Brisbane and not too far from home. Unfortunately this was not to last, as it eventually became apparent that my husband was in the first stages of dementia. It was a difficult time and my family was very concerned for my health, and organizing for my husband to go into care, enticed me to have a break in New Zealand with our daughter. Sadly, while I was away, my husband died peacefully in his sleep. Certainly he was at peace, but the guilt of my not being there at the time has stayed with me.

Then in 1991, our daughter was in Europe at a conference and was involved in a serious car accident while sightseeing in Yugoslavia and she lost her life. This was made more difficult to overcome because her husband and their children, now teenagers, lived in New Zealand.

There was yet to be another major hurdle to cross, as my elder son had cancer. After several long years of seeking and trailing various treatments, he finally lost the battle and died in 1992. He left a wife and three young children, whom I see only occasionally, because they live in a rural area and my current health does not permit long distance travel. I was able to have grief counseling at Lifeline where Anne was able to assist me in coming to terms, to some degree, with my terrible losses and sadness.

These tragedies in our lives had a real stressful effect on Ted and he suffered a prolonged setback. He has stays in six different hospitals, trials on a variety of medications and Electro Convulsive Treatment. During one episode, he wandered around the local suburbs for three days in terrific heat, ending up collapsing on the floor at home.

In 1982, we had set up a family trust and bought a house in which Ted could live and pay the rent to the trust. This went well for some time, until his good hearted nature worked against him. He would allow other people to move in and we discovered soon enough, that most of them were either cannabis users or dealers. Of course, they did not contribute towards the rent and when we would finally get them to move on, left the house in a dreadful mess. After nearly 20 years of this we had to sell the house and Ted is now settled in a small flat in a different area. He continues to use cannabis, as he seems to feel he cannot survive without it.

Things are now fairly stable in some ways, but I hold no hope of Ted getting well, thanks to cannabis. We are grateful to the local Mental Health Service from which the Mobile Intensive Support Team operates and these workers take care of a lot of Ted’s needs, giving him some quality of life.

During all these years I could not have overcome all of these traumas without ARAFMI. I always attended the support group meetings and found lots of empathy and caring. There were a couple of years that I missed out, when aged 83, I had a triple heart bypass, but my recovery is such that I am again a regular attendee and am fortunate that another member takes me in her car. Such are our genuine friendships! I will always be grateful for the support of the ARAFMI members. What is astonishing for me is, the number of stupid things that Ted has done and yet he can still come back smiling. He has a strong faith (not the same as mine), but surely it helps. For both of us, this has now been going on for 30 years with little change, although there is some hope in the newer medications.

Sometimes I wonder why I am still the same, after all these years. I believe that Ted certainly is a survivor, and I guess that in some ways I am also surviving. I have now turned 89 and live in a Christian care facility. I pray for Ted’s future well-being and keep faith and trust in the Mental Health Team to always look out for him.