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Harry's Story
Extract from Chapter
6
'St Mary's Hospital' by
Joe McDermott
Harry made his first picture when at Primary School. In a
time when cars were few on the roads of Mayo his teacher at
school asked for a drawing of a car on a hill. Harry
obliged, the results of his endeavours hung on the wall of
the classroom till after he left the school.
Like many other young men he enjoyed a drink or two and,
like many others, a sort of dependence developed that was to
have serious consequences for the rest of his life. He
worked at home on the land with his father, and at the same
time harvesting the peat for the nearby peat fired
generating station. A "few drinks gave one courage to
cross the dance floor" he said. Soon the few became the
many. Poteen was resorted to by the quart at times and Harry
slipped easily into alcoholism. He knew nothing of another
problem that lurked in his mind. Time would announce it to
him and to others.
A progressive deterioration of his condition continued
into the mid 1970's. He worked hard, made money, developed a
fencing project which was very successful, but still a sense
of emptiness overwhelmed him. He responded by drinking more
and painting less. He had continued his love of art through
the long years since Primary School. An artist, named Roger,
had befriended him and encouraged him to develop his style.
In the midst of the endless rounds of depression and drink
his painting continued. His painting set him apart in a
village where fine weather meant going to the bog or tending
the fields. In the clear moments between bouts of highs and
lows Harry would be away to paint.
An inevitable crisis occurred. His art was already a
therapy but the artist within him was struggling with
sanity. Sanity was losing.
Something possessed him one night, after a drinking bout.
He took the family bible to his room, flung it on a bedside
table, struck it with his fist and challenged existence.
Something he could not explain resulted. A strange feeling
came over him, a presence indicated to him that he would do
good - he was experiencing some kind of epiphany. It was to
begin the long journey back to the light. After this
experience he switched on the room light and screamed.
Everywhere was blood red, chairs, bedside table, walls, all
bathed in a bright venous blood, the scream brought his
parents rushing to the room. There and then he decided to
seek help. The family headed out into the November night to
the doctor.
Harry's journey to St Theresa's in Castlebar was not yet
over. He visited the Mayo General Hospital and St. Mary's
before convincing the staff at St. Theresa's to take him in,
for, by now, he was coming down from the high state that had
finally prompted him to seek help.
"I was lucky to be accepted" he reflected years
later. A few days on light medication and he was feeling
fine. Blood poison contracted in his foot when he stood on a
nail was curing nicely, and he was ready to tempt fate. He
got his clothes and went into Castlebar where he binged on
alcohol. It was not to be his last time to fall but it was
one he would remember, the doctor on duty in St Theresa's
induced sickness when he returned and the violence of that
sickness he can still recall.
He lay in bed for what seemed a long time, withdrawal
symptoms dictating his moods. As yet his other major illness
was not diagnosed. It fell to a Dr. Reynolds, a
psychiatrist, to examine Harry's history, to interview him
and to assess his condition. Dr. Reynolds had joined the
staff of St Mary's in 1968, from the Central Mental Hospital
in Dundrum. Eventually, it was clear that Harry was
suffering from a manic depressive illness. This mental
disorder is one in which states of euphoria and depression
alternate. It is due, psychiatrists claim, to chemical
imbalance in the brain. There may be a genetic contribution.
People who have regular ups and downs are generally viewed
as being at greater risk of developing manic depressive
psychosis. The majority of sufferers go on to have more than
one episode. Between episodes sufferers behave normally.
Harry's ups and downs were seen by some as alcohol
related but now for the first time he was, in the late
1970's, about to be treated for another, perhaps even more
formidable, illness. He returned on more than one occasion
to St Theresa's and St Mary's for treatment. Now his art
began to help him. It had always been there but now it
flourished. He recalled the one painting that hung in St
Theresa's, painted by a patient, it was a lake scene, pretty
much like the lake Dulough, at Tristia, on the road from
Castlebar to Bangor Erris. This simple painting gave him
hope and inspiration. "It brought me back."
There were many stumbles, slips and falls. One is never
fully cured. When he retired from Bord na Móna, he
slipped back into depression and into drink. ECT is a
treatment used for manic depression and Harry availed of it.
In his case the injected anaesthetic was not enough to make
him unconscious and so he also had gas. He would take any
help. "At the time I did not care whether I lived or
died" The ECT dulled the activity of an overactive mind
and gave some respite. Lithium was to be the best antidote.
A naturally occurring salt, it is used continuously in a
monitored and controlled environment to treat manic
depression.
Of his time in the hospital Harry was philosophical. On
the one hand it "battered you into submission", on
the other "it gave you confidence to deal with society
outside". He witnessed fun and drama in every measure
while inside. He enjoyed painting, the therapy it enjoined
was not his alone but reflected on the subject of the
painting and the audience that inevitably gathered to watch
him work.
He singled out no one in particular preferring to praise
all the staff who helped him to recover some sense of
normality. For his family and community he felt that one of
the first Community Psychiatric Nurses, Jim Brett had done
Trojan work to allay their fears. "He was a real worker
for the mentaly ill." The nurse was deservedly acclaimed
Mayo Man of the Year on one occasion for his services to
community mental health.
At the time of writing Harry was hale and healthy, living
at home in North Mayo. Painting had become a big part of his
life. He shared his skills with others, shared too his
experience of mental illness and the struggle to overcome
it.
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