I am very interested in the research by Kiehl at the prison where he found defects in the paralimbic system. It is heartening to me to be able to think that my late husband's horrible lifestyle was due to a missing screw in his brain, because it would give credence to the times when he appeared to be trying to behave better.
I had always put his problems off to addictive behavior because there is evidence that there is a gene contributing to the disorder. And I used his family environment and personalitiess as a cause of his behavior. Then there is the "you are what you eat" philosophy which works for me.
When you live with someone for 50 years, you can become the best diagnostician for that person if you study and have some support. One of the reasons I stay so long, and I haven't discussed this, is that I was haunted by the thought that he was trying to do better in the beginning, but either couldn't learn because of dementia of some sort, or that he was so addictive he couldn't discipline his mind to do better.
I keep thinking about the occasions when he would stay, "let's drop it. That's enough. Let's forget it and start over"
Finally I replied that we had done that many times, and it didn't seem to do any good for us, so we needed to not drop the matter until we figured out how to make things work better for us. I was always kind in my words because I could tell that at the moment he was frustrated and wanted to be able to do better. He would be nice for exactly three days, and then go back to his old tricks that were so comfortable and successful for him, he thought.
The adult children would count the days, and then laugh. Sure enough, predictably, he would start up again with his aggitations. This happened over and over for years, giving me the opinion that he couldn't help himself.
If there is a glitch in the paralimbic system, he would continue to not be able to control his emotions, inhibitions, and attentions. This matches exactly with what I experienced for so many years. I concentrated on studying frontal lobal behaviors, and I studied the violent actions that can come from neurological malfunctions. I think at times I was close but "no cookie" on many theories.
All the studying and pondering in the world was not going to do any good if I couldn't get him to be examined, and even when he had the brain scans for his brain tumor surgery, I couldn't get any insight. I came close when I asked for a psych therapist after his surgery, but the surgeon said Husband had to agree to the treatment. Husband replied that he didn't need any of that right now, so he slipped through the only opportunity offered.
Son plotted and cooperated with my plan to get him into an emergency room at any sign of illness and then talk to the emergency room doctor about ordering a psych eval. Unfortunately, dispite hypertension and diabetes, he never passed out in public so the squad could be called.
He managed his three trips to the hospital the year he died by not signing a consent form so I could be a part of his care. He did sign when he went in the final time, seven weeks before he died. By then it was too late. Every time he was hospitalized, I told my story to the social worker in charge, and they managed to allow my story to slip through the cracks so the problem would not be addressed. I even refused to agree to pick up Husband at the hospital when the doctor had signed the release because I complained that the issue had not been addressed.
The hospital kept calling to have someone get him, and finally Son picked him up and brought him home.
I convinced Son that I would leave my home if he ever brought his father home from the hospital again unable to walk or behave in a logical manner. He promised me he would never do that again, and agreed to put him in a facility if he were incapacitated in any way. I knew when Husband left in the squad the last time that he would never return to our home again, whether he lived or died. We were so estranged by that time that I didn't bother to go to the hospital with him to admit him. He didn't want any part of me in his life.
If you can't get a diagnosis, you can't get any treatment. My husband loved this idea and worked it to the end.
When the cancer took over, there was no way the doctors could help him at that point. I have the satisfaction that I researched and tried every option to help my husband. I never thought of him as crazy, but I could tell by his personality and actions that he tried to help himself in the beginning. After the brain tumor was removed, he thought of himself as healed and perfect in every way. There was no stopping his ego after that.
The meanness to me was just a game with him. Back to the basics. Pick on your victim and laugh. Make it a game. Then it isn't evil or bad. It is only a game. Aren't we all laughing?
Cornfield
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