TO RETIREMENT
0331 OUBS 3 - Breakdown & Depression/Anxiety
I have always been willing – for the call of duty – to push myself to the very limit, almost to a breakdown. Indeed, I had near breakdowns a couple of times before. The first was when I was studying for my finals, and really had too much to do in too short a time. The second was much later when, in IBM Biomedical, I had set myself task of meeting near impossible targets for the end of the year. I succeeded, but pushed myself very close indeed to breakdown. At that time, I also had a couple of near fatal accidents. The first of these was when my tyre blew out on a motorway in Scotland, and I only just managed to come to a stop on the hard shoulder. The other potentially was much worse. I was traveling along the M3 at 80 mph in the middle lane when the driver in front of me pulled out without looking behind him. Unfortunately there was a car coming up on the outside lane even faster than I was. The result was that I had to jamm the brakes on, and found myself going into the central reservation backwards. Fortunately, this was a part of the M3 where the central reservation consists of gorse bushes. That's why I found myself buried in gorse bushes looking back down the fast lane of the M3 on a blind corner. I managed to get out safely and continued on my way. What was a more of a miracle was that the car wasn't even scratched. The problem was the shock of it which, together with my overwork, pushed me over the edge
That night I woke in the middle of the night with pains in my chest and was rushed into hospital with a suspected heart attack. I now know it was a panic attack, but it was terrifying at the time. I lay there, on a trolley being supplied with oxygen, thinking I was going to die. The medical solution was quite simple. All the doctor said was "don't be silly you’re just hyperventilating" and gave me a bag to blow into. Within the matter of minutes I was as right as rain. Even so, I had to take a couple weeks off over Christmas to recuperate. But it shows just how exposed to panic I was.
Incidentally, such jobs, which required a large amount of traveling, do contain a significant amount of risk. Potentially my worst accident came when I was traveling along the dual carriageway just by Burton on Trent. It was dark and raining, and perhaps I should have slowed, but all of a sudden I saw an articulated lorry driving across in front of me. Again, I jammed on my brakes and went into a skid. My offside wheels hit the central reservation and this flipped me across the central reservation into the other lane. I continued across this, all the time revolving as the traffic swerved all around me. I ended up on the other verge facing the right way ready to drive off. I remember holding my hand out in front of me and being surprised to find it was as steady as a rock. That time I had no further repercussions.
It can be a wider problem though. When IBM moved its head office down to Portsmouth it had not allowed for the mileage its executives would do, traveling to and from London. It took three or four fatal or serious accidents before it put in place plans to limit such casualties.
When my workload at the OU escalated to five times normal, I found myself under the same sort pressure. However, I wrongly believed that I could handle it. I thought I was good at pushing myself to the very limit; and chose to do this to get a new course out, planning to only then collapse into my study leave.
The added complication this time was that I once more developed symptoms of cardiac problems. This time though they were for real. I first felt the problem where I was rushing to a session at the Strategic Planning Society. I was always late, so I was walking very fast from Oxford Circus to the society's headquarters by the BBC. I suddenly found it quite difficult to breathe, with tightening in my chest, and my thoughts immediately were that it was a cardiac problem. Remembering my earlier panic, however, as I still pushed myself over the next few weeks the as the panic developed further. Eventually I found out that my cardiac problem, which later was shown to be a blocked cardiac artery which affected a third of my heart, was real. But at the time I was sure that these were panic attacks as much as actual physical reactions. Accordingly, I carried on with my programme of meetings at the Strategic Planning Society, but took it a bit easier -- and even then had slight panic attacks. I had a couple of much worse ones, though, when I was addressing international audiences. The first of these was at Kensington Town Hall where I addressed the International Congress of Consultancies. I was alright on stage, the adrenaline buzz always carries me through. However, when Pat and I went together down to Kensington High Street afterwards to have a meal I had a tremendous panic attack and had to be helped back to the car. Strangely, once in the car, I was able to drive back to Milton Keynes. Somehow the car provided a haven.
Something similar occurred when I went down to do a presentation to the South Eastern Regional Development Agency's annual conference in Brighton. The adrenaline carried me through until we went for a meal.
Even so, I survived and was just counting down the weeks until I started my study leave. It was at this point that Roland, as the Tribunal evidence later showed, was trying to find a way of shutting me up; then largely by threatening defamation proceedings against me. I managed to stop that, but when he denied me my study leave he found my one real weakness, and literally forced me into a breakdown there and then.
It's difficult to describe what happened at that meeting. In a matter of minutes I was a different person. It was not like a physical breakdown. I was able to present a sensible front to others, and do all the physical things that might be expected of me. But my life had almost ended; in ways that really are impossible to describe. I literally felt depressed – beyond anything I had ever experiences - so that to my acute anxiety was joined by acute depression; clinical depression. My doctors immediately put me on antidepressants, and that helped a little. But my subsequent depression lasted the best part of two years.
I suppose the essence of it was firstly that I just didn't partake of life. I didn't want to do anything. I was always used writing as a way of handling such problems. For example my novel about the bronze age had been the catharsis which pulled me out of the problems when Computerland crashed. But now I couldn't even write. After a year or so I managed to rewrite some material -- but my ability to write fluently didn't return until at least two years later.
I suffered all the other classical symptoms; problems with sleeping, fatigue, loss of interest and enjoyment and all the classical signs of depression. I suppose, in retrospect, it couldn't have been that I was ever in pain. I wasn't even suicidal, and I could still follow some sort of existence. Indeed, the worst part of it was the anxiety, since I hated leaving the safety of my home -- even to go to Tesco which was only a mile away.
My doctors referred me to the local hospital, where the psychologist indulged in some behavioural therapy; essentially trying to boost my ego. She succeeded quite well, except that as she was doing this Roland was doing exactly the opposite. The outcome was that I survived but there is a blank space - of two years - in my personal history. Blankness is the main symptom. I wouldn't want to go through that again.
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