My son Larry was a brilliant student, but his first puff of cannabis was the start of a terrifying descent into depression and paranoia that cost his life.
As a child, Larry had been bright, gifted and extremely energetic. Looking back I would say that he always found it difficult to communicate his feelings, and even when obviously distressed would tell me he was “fine”. At the time I just thought this was a typical male reluctance to reveal his emotions.
As his mother, my instinct tells me he would eventually have worked these through by himself if only he had never touched drugs. From the moment he smoked his first joint of cannabis to try to make himself feel better, Larry had started on a road that would lead him to severe mental disturbance.
Although by nature a shy boy, Larry made several lasting friendships at the local school he attended. He did brilliantly academically. Graham and I knew Larry found his first year at university difficult, although he rarely confided in anyone. He told me he hated his first lodgings.
I phoned a student counsellor, who went to see Larry, but our son simply told him he was fine. Larry later said that he had some of the best, and the worst, times of his life at university. But it was during the beginning of his second year that I discovered, to my horror, how he was using cannabis to try to solve his confidence problems.
I was appalled when he told me. Larry had always seemed sensible and I had trusted him not to do anything stupid. How could he behave like this? I know that thousands of students go out every weekend and use drugs, but knowing how highly-strung Larry was, I was terrified of the effect cannabis might have on him.
I had read about use of the drug being linked to psychosis and felt desperately afraid for him. What would these drugs do to his health and his future? I only hoped these feelings of low self-worth would pass, but I don’t believe Larry ever really got over his lack of self-esteem, even though he was tall, good-looking, and very clever. He had everything to live for if only he’d known it.
His father and I were out of our minds with worry. If he had been defiant or arrogant about his drug-taking, we could have shouted and threatened him. But Larry wasn’t like that at all. All we saw was an unhappy, disturbed boy who needed our help as he had never done before.
We realised he was in danger both of becoming dependent and psychiatrically disturbed by the drugs.
Yet all the time Larry claimed that he was only doing it to “make himself feel better”. I tried my best to persuade him to see the counsellor — but he was deeply suspicious of any attempts to help him and hated talking about himself or his feelings to anyone.
In 2000, he finally admitted to us that his use of cannabis and ecstasy had triggered a deep depression — ironically the very thing he had been battling all along. I said I’d do all I could to help him. At my request, Larry went to see our family GP and was prescribed an antidepressant. For a few months I hoped Larry might be getting better, but then in early 2001 I made a horrifying discovery. Larry had been ordering prescription-only medications over the Internet and using them in combination with cannabis and ecstasy.
Later I found out from the local pharmacist that hundreds, if not thousands, of unsolicited e-mails offering on-line drugs are sent to Internet users all over the world every day.
He didn’t even attempt to deny what he had been doing, but broke down, telling me over and over how sorry he was, and repeating: “I’m evil, you don’t really know me, Mum.” When I asked about the prescription drugs, he told me Valium was used to soften the come-down after taking ecstasy. I was appalled and, as any parent would be, dreadfully frightened that my son’s life was out of control. I kept thinking: “If only he had never started smoking cannabis, none of this would be happening.”
It seemed so obvious that it had led him on to more serious drugs. From then on, I was constantly trying to prevent Larry’s access to drugs. Sometimes I would go through his room and get rid of them. On one occasion I threw away as many as 200 Valium tablets. After confiding in both my local pharmacist and our GP, I started handing any drugs I found to them. I couldn’t understand how it could be possible young, vulnerable people could obtain prescription-only drugs online. Surely it was illegal?
I was beside myself with worry and stress, and made sure I had the chance to intercept the mail before Larry got it.
Looking back, I wonder how I managed to stay sane.
Partly as a result of my increasing stress about Larry, as well as the fact that I was also caring for my elderly mother, my husband Graham and I separated in May 2001. We remained loving friends, but simply had no reserves of energy left to put into our own relationship.
Larry continued to live with his father while Ros came with me. I noticed that Larry did not show any emotion at this time, either over our separation, or my mother’s death shortly afterwards. During the following year, Larry continued to be very unstable. I knew he was still experimenting with drugs obtained over the Internet, and he admitted that he was still using cannabis “occasionally”.
Yet all the time he claimed not to be doing this for thrills, but simply to feel better about himself. I asked him what we could do to help. He decided he wanted to live on his own and rented a unit close to his father and me. But he continued to act in a very frightening way.
In June 2002, he came to my house in a highly disturbed and paranoid state. Terrified, I took him to the local hospital, where he was eventually seen by the duty psychiatrist. An out-patient appointment was made for a few weeks later.
But Larry’s behaviour was deteriorating too rapidly for this to be of use. He barricaded himself into his room so that communication became impossible. It was agonising to see my brilliant child’s mind unravelling before my eyes.
Two weeks later, I had a phone call from Graham to say Larry had been taken to hospital after running in front of a bus. I felt almost faint with relief when he said Larry had not been hurt.
I went straight to the hospital, where the doctor on duty administered an anti-psychotic drug. Larry suddenly showed a dramatic improvement, proving the doctor’s diagnosis of a drug-induced psychosis to be correct. Yet a urine test showed he had taken only six codeine tablets.
When I talked to a drugs helpline, I discovered that psychosis does not have to be the result of drugs present in the body, but may be the result of drug abuse from years earlier. This is particularly linked with the long-term use of cannabis.
Recent medical research has established a strong link between the use of cannabis and the development of psychosis and schizophrenia in vulnerable young people. Scientists say that by disrupting the delicate chemical balance of the brain, the drug causes changes leading to long-term mental illness.
I kept Larry with me as much as possible for six weeks after that.
He seemed to be improving steadily, and appeared brighter and more optimistic about the future. I even persuaded him to see a counsellor. But a diary he kept shows his mood swings: “Still getting delusional thoughts — worst fears — dying painfully, having to relive my life again and again, voices encouraging me to kill myself.”
In the autumn he got a permanent job. He had moved back to his father’s, but frequently came around to me for dinner.
HE saw his psychiatrist regularly and was prescribed various anti-psychotic drugs.
Larry had complained of hearing voices and had been diagnosed as suffering from schizophrenia from all the drugs he had taken.
By June last year, Larry was more active: swimming, cooking and playing the piano at home. I began to have hope. When I said he could live with me, he said he loved my house but felt there was something missing inside him.
He complained of an emotional numbness, described by psychiatrists as the “negative symptoms” of schizophrenia. He asked how he could go on for another 50 years feeling like this. On the day he died, he was due to come for lunch but he didn’t turn up and we were all worried. If he was not at his father’s house, where was he?
Even as I took that first call from Graham, I knew the answer. But it was not until about 20 agonising minutes later that Graham rang again: “Sue, come straight away. The police are here . . . Larry has thrown himself under a train.”
I didn’t ask whether our son was dead as I could not bear to be told over the telephone. Instead, after driving to the house in minutes, I ran up the path crying: “But he is all right, isn’t he?” Of course, in my heart I knew he wasn ‘t. Later the police told us that Larry had thrown himself under a train at 11 that morning.
Like any distraught mother, I blamed myself. Whatever I had done had not been enough. All I can do is hope to prevent other vulnerable people from being harmed by drugs in the way Larry was. I only wish with all my heart that I had been able to save my own son.
