We Interrupt This Program for a Consumer's Voice (Mental Illness), 1990s, by William D. Greenlee
From MemoryArchive
Who: William D. Greenlee What: Mental Illness When: 1990s Where: USA
Hello, my name is Bill Greenlee. I am diagnosed with paranoid pchizophrenia. I'm on a mission to educate people who are eager to learn and understand this devastating brain disorder.
The way I contracted schizophrenia was a little unusual. I was in the army. At the end of the year 1989, I finish Basic Training at Ft. Lenaered wood. And then I went to Ft. Sill for my A.I.T. (advance individual training). After I graduated from the Signal Corps, my orders sent me to 1/3 ACR Cyclone co., Ft. Bliss Texas. And at Ft. Bliss my roommate was ETS'ing, which meant he was going back to college. So, I was looking for someone who could pay half the rent. You see, I was living off post, and my first sergeant told me I must find someone from our company. And not only that, I needed a ride to the post; I lost my transportation. I would always get a ride from my last roommate. It turned out that I could not find anyone to help with the cost of the apartment, so I was headed back to the barracks, room inspections, and sharing your food with those darn cockroaches.
I was on post where I rented a Ford Aerostar XL van. Then I started to pack the van, which has Government license plates. All of a sudden, it felt like an egg dropped from the sky, and my whole body started to shake (I call them tremors). In my whole life, I have never been so scared. I fell down on my knees, and I started hearing faint crowded noises, and they grew louder. And a screaming terrified voice came out of my mouth. The voices shouting at me saying, "Bill you must kill yourself ... you must die! ... get rid of yourself ... NOW!!!"
I had a vision that I was sitting in the corner of the kitchen with a knife in my throat, and I was sitting in a pool of blood. I was going through the process, but I said no; next thing I know, I wanted to leave the voices behind me. So I got back into the van, put the knife on the passenger seat ... and I went NORTH.
Now, to make a long story short, I ended up in Alaska. Alaska, that’s right, our largest state. I left Edmonton Canada, and the next stop was the Alaskan Highway. It was their 50th anniversary, and the van sure went through a lot. They were redoing the roads, and I must have hit every pothole and rock out there.
I heard the voices and the hallucinations were not going to stop. It took me about a few hours to remember my mom and dad’s phone number. I finally gave them a call, crying and confused, I asked for help. Dad called the post chaplain, and I turned myself in by going to the hospital first. I did not see a doctor, they just asked me a lot of questions that I could not answer. When I was done, there were two MP’s (Military Police) waiting for me. I was AWOL.
Back to El Paso, Ft. Bliss Texas. I was now in a psychiatric ward in William Beaumont Army Center. One of the things I remember when I was in the hospital was, in the rec room we were watching the movie Airplane (the funny one) Robert Hays had a glass of iced-tea and he said, “I have a drinking problem.” And he pours it all over himself, and we all started to laugh, and this big guy named Spot, was rolling on the floor, which was unusual because he hardly says anything. The next morning, we all got up for breakfast, and Spot opened his milk and spoke out loud and says, “I have a drinking problem,” and poured his milk over his head. The head nurse told him to go to his room for the remainder of the day. I opened my milk and did the same. And so everyone went to their rooms for a 24 hour watch. The head nurse got in trouble because most of us had other appointments that we missed.
While in the hospital, I was treated with a number of conventional antipsychotic medications that caused severe side effects ranging from insomnia to muscle spasms. In 1993, after two and a half years in the psychiatric hospital, I was discharged and returned to my hometown of Erie, Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, the side effects from the medications prevented me from holding down a job. In 1994, I was re-hospitalized and prescribed a newer antipsychotic medication, Risperdal. Since then, I have seen dramatic improvement in my ability to concentrate and function. Now I am able to communicate with others and establish new relationships.
Personally aware of the difficulties of living with a mental illness, I believe that by sharing my story, I will be able to increase awareness of mental illnesses and their treatability.
Reproduced with permission from New York City Voices, where you will also find more information about recovery.
