For the week of July 16 - 22, 2003

Tim’s struggle with bipolar disorder unveils lessons for treatment and aid

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(EDITOR’S NOTE: The Pollock family’s search for understanding has fueled a desire to inform others about bipolar disorder in the hopes other families may recognize the symptoms in their loved ones and seek treatment early. That desire has led them to open their hearts at this painful time to tell the story of their son, Tim. Their faith and friends are helping them through these difficult times. Tim was laid to rest June 10. This the first of a two-part series.)

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Part I: The Last Battle

By BARBARA PERKINS
Special to the Mountain Express

"He was born, literally, smiling," said his mother as she spread out a multitude of family photos all displaying the deep dimples that were familiar to all who knew Tim Pollock as he grew up in the Wood River Valley.

TIM POLLOCK

That trademark smile dimmed a bit in 2001 when Tim was diagnosed at age 24 with bipolar disorder and then flickered out forever when the torment of the disease overpowered him so that he took his life on June 3.

How could this happen to such a happy-go-lucky, Christian young man of a supportive, loving family with a job he loved as a software engineer? What pit of depression could be too deep for such a life-loving, enthusiastic man to escape?

Severe mental illness is a disease of the brain, a chemical imbalance that can kill as surely as a cancerous tumor can kill if it’s not diagnosed early and treated aggressively with medication and education.

Even then, as with cancer, there is no promise of success.

Bipolar disorder affects 2.3 million adult Americans or 1.2 percent of the population, according to the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill or NAMI. The disease, also called manic depression, knows no bounds economically, racially or in gender.

 

Tim’s Story

Growing up, Tim was a normal, if not exceptional, child.

The family moved to Hailey from Casper, Wyo., in 1981 when his father, Randy, joined Power Engineers. Along with his two older brothers, Josh and Ben, Tim was schooled at home by his mother, Sheila, until he entered Wood River Junior High School and later Wood River High School. He changed high schools when he accompanied his mother to Caldwell where she attended Albertson College of Idaho. Tim graduated valedictorian of his class with a perfect 4.0 grade point average from Caldwell High School in 1995.

Tim was elated at his acceptance by the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana, into the Computer Science program for the fall of 1995.

Tragedy first struck the Pollock family that year when Tim’s brother, Josh, a senior at the University of Michigan preparing to graduate that December in Aerospace Engineering, was killed in an automobile accident at the age of 22.

"Tim thought Josh’s death was what triggered his illness. He said he never felt quite the same after Josh’s death," said Randy, referring to the fact that often an event or unusual stress may trigger the onset of the disease. "But I think it would eventually have started even if Josh had not died."

Tim continued at the University of Illinois after his brother’s death, and graduated in 2000 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Computer Science.

Immediately after graduation, Tim accepted a position with Motorola as a software engineer and moved to Huntsville, Ala., where he lived until just prior to his death. He loved his job with network communications processors, developing software applications using Linux and ATM (asynchronous transfer mode) protocols used in broadband products. In addition, he was in the process of creating an independent software product with his former college classmates that allowed telephone conversations over the Internet.

"In retrospect, it turns out he had the perfect personality for the work he did," said his father, referring to the manic states of the disorder that in the early phases can result in an excessive workaholic work ethic and often brilliant programming of software applications.

Things were good. Tim enjoyed creating solutions for complex problems. He had a great mind for the field he chose, but as his mind underwent the ravages of the disease, he faced the possibility of being deprived of the ability to do what he loved.

 

The Struggle Begins

Tim, as is typical of the disease, was diagnosed in his early 20s. The disorder often starts unrecognized in the teen years as depression; the manic state usually manifests later as the sufferer enters the workforce and faces new, higher levels of stress. Cycling between the two states can prove devastating as the sufferer moves from the depths of depression to manic highs then back into the depression. The damage to the processes of the brain is evident on brain scans.

Despite his love of the job at Motorola, in states of severe depression Tim sometimes couldn’t even leave the house, missing work for days, according to Sheila.

After one of these absences, his supervisor urged him to get help. Tim, who loved his job at Motorola, agreed.

"He gave Tim a list of names of people to see, and Tim made an appointment right away," said Sheila.

Tim’s diagnosis was immediate, and he was hospitalized for treatment.

Although there is often a genetic predisposition to the disease, that’s not always the case and cannot be relied upon for diagnosis.

"We had no idea," Sheila said of the diagnosis. "Usually, I guess, the family says, ‘Oh! Just like Aunt Martha or Uncle So-And-So,’ but we are not aware of anything like that in either of our families."

Bipolar disorder is not always hereditary, is not preventable and is not curable, according to the Web site of the NAMI (nami.org). Depending on where in the spectrum of severity the sufferer falls, treatment may also be difficult as it was in Tim’s case.

Tim struggled with the medications, their side effects and severe bouts of depression until the time of his death.

"The thing that resulted in Tim’s death was his illness," said his father. "There’s no test to find out what (chemical) you’re deficient in. The doctors have to experiment with different medications to find what works for each individual."

Even then, medications have to be constantly monitored and adjusted. The care and treatment is ongoing. Suicide attempts are higher in those who suffer from this illness.

 

The Last Battle

June 3 was not the first time Tim attempted suicide.

"This was the third time that we know of," said his mother, Sheila, who learned of one attempt during a mostly benign telephone conversation.

"We talked about how everything was going, just a normal conversation. Then, about 30 minutes into the conversation, Tim said he had done something stupid. He had taken all his Lithium (a common medication for the treatment of bipolar disorder). Randy immediately said to Tim, who was in Alabama at the time, ‘Can you drive?’ and Tim assured him that he was able to drive. Randy emphatically ordered Tim, "Go to the hospital NOW! Are you sure you’re OK to drive?’ Tim said he was."

After calling the doctor to meet Tim at the hospital and some desperate moments when Tim did not arrive within the time expected for the drive, Randy and Sheila were notified he was there having his stomach pumped.

Tom Hanson of the Wood River Valley chapter of NAMI explains.

"It’s hard to understand unless you’ve seen or experienced this depth of depression," said Hanson. "They (bipolar individuals) get into this depressed state and all they want is relief from their pain, thus the risk of suicide becomes greater the more they cycle and/or the deeper they fall into their depression."

As a family, the Pollocks decided the best place for Tim would be closer to home. Sheila traveled to Alabama to help her son close up his house, which he had put on the market when he decided to move back to his hometown in the Wood River Valley.

"After church on a Sunday, we decided to stop and get some more flowers because he was trying to sell his house," said Sheila. "It was quite hot, so I asked Tim to set the flowers in the shade, and he complied, which was his normal personality. He was so compliant. Tim must have asked me a half dozen time if I needed anything from the store, and then said he was going out for a Mountain Dew, just as if everything was perfectly normal."

Later that day, Sheila got a call from the hospital that Tim had been admitted with another overdose of Lithium.

"He drove himself there," said Sheila.

"It’s a chemical imbalance," explains Hanson. "They can’t rationalize the positives: that they have a supportive family, a good job or other levels of success. Their mind is not processing correctly and all they see is this dark tunnel. Those other things do not play into their decision or thought process."

Even Tim’s profound faith in God and the power of the Bible to transform lives could not break through during his states of depression, according to his mother. Tim was never angry or bitter, but rather sought to understand some meaning behind it all, she added. The illness destroyed his ability to process or apply what he so sincerely believed.

Three weeks before his death, Tim drove from Alabama to Idaho with his mother in hopes that a season of rest would provide the stabilizing atmosphere he needed to recover and return to work. Many people who suffer from mental illness are able to do just that with the help of modern medications and good counseling therapy.

 

Why?

"Tim had good treatment," said Dr. Gerald Brooks, who took over Tim’s case when he was in the Wood River Valley, a statement with which the Pollocks agree. "It’s a chemical/physical disorder, not a psychological one. We don’t fully understand the nervous system. We’ve learned so much, but still don’t know a lot."

Long ago, it was understood that the symptoms were the result of a brain disease called "dementia precox," or "dementia of the young," according to Dr. Brooks, who has a practice in Ketchum and discussed Tim’s case with permission of the Pollock family.

"Then Freud came along," said Dr. Brooks. "The psychoanalysts following Freud blamed the parents, especially the mothers, for this illness. We know today that it is a brain disease."

It’s not a disease entirely without hope and, normally, aggressive medication to counter the chemical imbalance and therapy education allows sufferers to lead productive lives.

Tim’s ability to focus on his computer work or even read a book became difficult as his brain deteriorated. This was a growing source of frustration, since reading was an integral part of his job. An inability to focus on reading material is a common symptom of the disorder, but in many cases medication helps sufferers regain control.

Tim had a very serious manifestation of the disorder, according to Dr. Brooks, a form of the disease that eventually overwhelmed him and led him to take his own life.

"We took a drive to Stanley and had dinner Saturday. We went to a movie, "Finding Nemo," on Sunday and watched a DVD at home on Monday," said Sheila. "Tim was taking his medication. On Tuesday, the day he died, his glass was in the sink and his morning dose of medication was gone from the pillbox."

Tim died instantly of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, but as his friend, the Rev. Tim Baker, said at Tim’s funeral, "The gun didn’t kill Tim, his disease did."

Tim fought his last battle with bipolar disorder; his family is still reconciling their loss. Family and friends miss the Tim they had always known: that infectious smile, his insatiable quest for knowledge and his tender soul.

The Pollocks have turned to their faith for comfort and understanding of this tragedy.

"Do we trust God or do we just say that we trust God?" asked Pastor Steve Matheson during the service.

Randy, Sheila and their surviving son, the Rev. Benjamin Pollock, truly trust God to help them through the difficult days ahead.

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Next week Part II: Hope for others

 

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