Dad on the Beach

Hey you kids! Don’t block my view!

Twenty years ago, at sixty-four, my bipolar father died because of an accidental prescription drug overdose that managed his disorder. His brother and sister shared the disease and we believe Grandma had it, but she lived her life undiagnosed.

I remembered my father liked women. Naked women to be more specific. He had a stash of Playboy magazines and several Playmates of the Month plastered on the walls of the tiny bathroom attached to his office.

But even with his illness, he worked hard and achieved a small level of success. Enough success that when he retired, he’d planned to move to the Caribbean, live on a sailboat and travel where the wind took him. However, we weren’t clear if that vision included his family. My mother wasn’t having any of it, as the thought of living on a boat outside of Canada with her manic-depressive husband wasn’t at all appealing.

Fast forward twenty years. Lithium was the medication of choice for his disease; a heavy metal ingested daily to even out his neurotransmitters and other brain chemistry. But in large doses, Lithium is toxic. We think in a dementia-related senior moment, he doubled up on his dose, realized something was wrong and made it to an Emergency Room in Toronto. Hours later, the overdose compromised his kidneys and caused other…