"I See People... Who Aren't There!" - Schizophrenia & a Beautiful Mind

"They have no shadows;" Brian, a handsome twenty one year old college student adamantly says, looking at the corner of the room as if he can see them - People who are figments of his imagination; people who are real to him, just as real as I am sitting across from him. "And they're always in threes." It is morning and he just had breakfast. He then takes a small white pill and throws it in the back of his throat, drinks down a cup of cold water; swallowing hard. His suspicious wide pupils glance strategically to his right and then to his left; smirking. "I know they're not real." He convinces himself. "I don't remember inviting them in." And he blurts out a hearty laugh. I can't help but laugh with him; convincing myself that he is healing, even though I don't see a thing but the plump upholstery of the chairs around the table - With nobody sitting in them. Unlike the brilliant mind of mathematician and Nobel Peace Prize recipient John Nash, Brian's dilemma slowly began during his teens and he wasn't aware of the signs. There were signs, he remembers. "I kept seeing these same three people everywhere I went; always following me, telling me that they wanted to kill me." Brian solemnly recalls. "I was scared out of my mind! I would see them coming up to me and I would run. I could hear them running after me; gaining on me. But they could never catch me. I'm not one to run from anybody; I was known to break a jawbone here and a few ribs there whenever I got involved in a ruckus. But this - it was different." He had no idea that he was treading on the hairline borders of Schizophrenia.

Brian is just one of thousands of young men and women who are suffering from a strange mental "hazing" called Schizophrenia. He was first diagnosed while he was in his first year at a noted college; studying to be an engineer when the unexpected took place. One sunny spring afternoon, he found himself - as well as hundreds of onlookers and neighbors - dangling from the seventh floor window ledge of his bedroom, planning to jump. His reasons: He could no longer deal with the strange people who periodically followed and coaxed him to end his life. It was not the first time Brian wanted to commit suicide. He slit his wrist, took pills, and then - well; dangled from his bedroom window. He had done that strange window acrobatic suicidal attempt three times before he was finally rescued from his mental strangers and committed to a psychiatric ward at New York's Mount Sinai. There, he spent months being evaluated by psychiatrists - All meticulously assessing his family history, his beautiful mind for the many reasons for his suicidal ideations; and pumping his body with all kinds of bad side effect drugs until they found the appropriate one that seems to work for him. Brian, a once robust young man who played football for his high school, had declined from being an assured and confident man to being in a child-like stupor as a result of being heavily medicated. He drooled alot, was robotic, catatonic; staring at the ghost-like menagerie of people who taunt and haunt him in a silence that no one discerned but him. That was a year ago. Today, Brian - moving freely as the wind and walking about as if he owns the world -seems to transform back into the once-astute, popular, and confident young man he once was; and he seems to be resolved in accepting the fact that the three individuals haunting him are no more tangible than the plastic decorative apples and oranges in the centerpiece on the table. It could be the medication he is taking that convinces him otherwise; or perhaps it could be the stark truth that his mind has played tricks on him and those "people" he sees will graduallly be laid to rest. Whatever the scenario, he clearly understands now that he has a mental illness that effects nearly one percent of the population and targets more men than women. It is a gradual disease that takes on between the ages of 15 and 25; manifesting in extremes by the time he or she reaches adulthood. And its menacing arrival can take a toll on his/her family as they cope with the pendulum swing of emotional and mental breakdowns. According to the various storehouses of psychological theories, Schizophenia is not necessarily hereditary; it can come on suddenly and randomly, often under stress. Brian remembers working part time at a computer store and rushing to submit timely term papers - the anxiety and pressure of meeting deadlines and working could have been the culprits that pushed on the disorder. Schizophrenia is a much misunderstood psychosis, depriving the sufferer of adequate and professional care. Sometimes it is too late before it is realized; thus, the onslaught of young people exhibiing Schizophrenic behaviors in college - randomly killing others or being killed themselves after stalking innocent people on campus with an arsenal of weapons because they either hear voices or see people who aren't there. Recognizing the symptoms can greatly reduce the potential harm to the person suffering from Schizophrenia before they are beyond help. Brian was one of the fortunate ones who lived to accept his condition and the realization that the people he see with no shadows do not exist.

"They kept telling me that I will get better;" Brian says about the doctors as he reflected on his long stay at the hospital. "I believed them once I was told that I can go home. I missed my own bed." "Was it hard for you to initially accept your diagnosis?" I asked, watching him debate with the urge to acknowledge his invisible nemesis and keeping his focus on me. It is a constant struggle to ignore what is not there. "Hell yeah, it was hard!" He replies shrugging his shoulders. "I didn't think it was accurate. I thought people who had Schizophrenia were crazy." "Crazy?" I press, staring at him for clarity. He pauses; contemplating that word. "I mean nuts; you know, off." He plainly answers. "I shouldn't use that word so loosely ever again after what I've been through." I assent with a nod. "How much medication must you take per day?" "Four times;" He answers. "Two after breakfast and two before bed." He lowers his eyes and then looks up at me with a sobering gaze. "I don't like taking those pills." "Why?" I ask, watching him hold two bottles of medicine in his grasp. "Do you think they're helping you?" "No; not really." He sits up; his left knee jittering nervously. "I still see them. One white guy, one black guy, and one Hispanic guy. I don't know where they come from; never saw them before. They just - Well; pretty much popped up outta nowhere." "But now Brian, you're pretty sure that they aren't real right?" He hesitates to answer again, looking around the room. "Yeah;" He replies with a sigh, resisting the presence of the unknown. "I'm sure now. It's gonna take some time; but I know that one day they'll all disappear." "And you know that part of your recovery depends on your consistent daily regimen; that you must keep taking your medications." Brian squirms a bit; and then reluctantly owns up to his responsibility. "Yeah; even though I feel at times that I'm well and I don't need them anymore. But the doctors explained to me that, once I stop taking my meds, I'll find myself back in the hospital again." "You don't want that now, do you?" I ask. Brian nervously laughs. "No way! I love my own bed!" "Do you think that there'll ever come a time when you won't have to take the pills anymore?" "Yes;" he said. "The doctors say I may have to take them for the rest of my life or I may not. It depends."

Brian has a beautiful mind waiting to be rediscovered. His determination to mainstream back into society as a whole mind rather than a partial mind, makes a believer out of me as well as all those caring for him. His goals are to return to school to continue to achieve his dream of becoming an engineer. He desires to redefine the computer age with his ingenuity and vision; and if he continues to allow himself to heal, then he just might be where he wants to be in the near future. Who knows? Maybe he'll be the next John Nash to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for inventing a user-friendly computer with a beautiful mind.