Do you remember what it felt like to wobble and weave down the sidewalk in a drunken stupor? I hope not.

But what if, in addition to that boozy feeling, your mind, without warning and even when you’re stone cold sober, occasionally goes on a tear that that leaves you irrationally high as a kite? Or in the depths of a suicidal despair?

Sound odd? It is. Take it from me. I’ve been to both places. And it’s not because of too much alcohol. Or some other kind of chemically induced state of altered consciousness.

No, instead, for me the drunk-appearing stagger is the result of a little understood, but treatable tongue twister of a medical condition called Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus. Or, the friendlier abbreviation, NPH.

OK. But what’s up with the wild swings between euphoria and the “been down so long it looks like up” depression? Again, treatable, but this time a psychiatric condition: bipolar disorder.

The thing that ties both ailments together? They both afflict my brain. But, other than that, what’s there to worry about?

Wet, Wacky And Wobbly.

NPH is caused by a build-up of excess fluid in your skull for reasons that are little understood. The condition’s three symptoms have been characterized as “wet, whacky, and wobbly.” None are pleasant. And all are, to one degree or another, embarrassing.

• Wet: Urinary incontinence. My most embarrassing experience? Trapped in the car and getting home with sopping pants. And a bucket seat full of piss. It happened after a long day of campaigning door to door during one of my races for the legislature. Fortunately, my opponent never got wind of this little “whoops!” Otherwise, I can just see the attack add: “Would you vote for a politician who depends on ‘Depend?'” Also fortunate? The cure worked; it hasn’t happened again.
• Whacky: Yep, dementia. Sure, my wife thinks I’m getting awfully forgetful. But if you’re honest, your wife probably thinks you are too. And I bet you don’t have NPH. Either way, I think I’m still sufficiently with it to write a coherent post. But you be the judge.
• Wobbly: Here, it’s gotten bad. Trust me, I never go down the stairs from our bedroom, or any other stairs, without clinging to the handrail. Where, that is, one’s available. And where there isn’t? Very cautiously.

And the cure? Brain surgery to install a shunt that sends excess fluid from my skull down a tube that runs through my neck to my belly where it’s somehow cleansed before it’s recycled back to my head. (You should click on the above link; it’s interesting to see how the little thingy in my head works.) And, while the device hasn’t been the miracle cure I hoped for, it’s been very helpful.

ADDING INSULT TO INJURY

Ok. One brain screwup I can understand. But two? You gotta be kiddin! Nope: bipolar disorder in all it’s crazy glory also.

But, again, I’ve been blessed. I’ve found a cure. Even if it took decades for me to face the music and get help. And, while the periodic trips to the shrink’s office and the meds aren’t perfect (the pills’ inevitable unpleasant side effects), it’s a whole lot better than nothing.

Again, the causes of bipolar disorder are poorly understood. But the most likely culprit is genetic inheritance.

Simply put, the disorder is characterized by mood swings between mania and depression that go far beyond normal happiness and sadness. The mania can produce a variety of reckless behaviors. Like the unnamed guy my psychiatrist told me about who went running down the hallway of the hospital screaming and naked.

Happily, I never got that bad. But sleeplessness? Irritable? The urge to spend recklessly? Delusions of grandeur? Involuntarily committed to a psychiatric hospital? Yep. Yep. And yep.

And on the down side, depression. Over 20 years, 6% of those with bipolar commit suicide; 30-40% engage in self-harm. It was only by God’s grace that I didn’t do myself in. In fact, I shudder to think how many times I carefully plotted my own demise. And me with a wonderful wife and three kids of whom I’m very proud.

But is there an upside of bipolar? Perhaps. There’s considerable evidence that it’s often paired with creativity. Here’s a list of eight well known creative types who’ve had it. “Only” one committed suicide.

But What About The Twofer?

So, like me, you might be asking yourself, “What happens if you’re bipolar and have NPH?

Good question. I don’t have a clue. I snooped around a bit on the internet to try to find an answer, but nothing much popped up. And what little that did was in obscure medical journals that were way above my pay grade.

But, I promise. Next time I go to see my shrink or the doctor I’ll try to remember to ask about it. Unless, of course, it slips my mind and I get side tracked by dementia, depression, or mania.