Posted on September 17, 2005 in Mania
One in every hundred. That’s the statistic I hear proclaimed at support group meetings. There is one sufferer of bipolar disorder in every hundred Americans.
Last week, I attended a picnic. I got to talking with a new friend there. We were chatting about comics and how Stan Lee liked to cameo in the Marvel films. That led to me mentioning how Stephen King had a part in Kingdom Hospital.
“I wonder what he is on,” my friend said. “He must be on something.”
“Cocaine,” I replied. “But he’s off.” I shook my head. “It never ceases to amaze me that there are all these people who want to be mentally ill.” And I added, before my brain could think: “I’m bipolar.”
“So am I!”said the friend, quickly looking around.
There were about two hundred people at the picnic and here, the two statistically predicted bipolars had found each other.
A few weeks ago, I was one of three bipolars in a car. In the back was a fellow who annoyed me because he claimed to be well and then disappeared for weeks at a time. “You know,” he said, “I don’t believe that two percent of everyone is bipolar. I think the diagnosis is misused.” My driver let him off. I have not seen him since. What did he mean by his comment? Did he feel capable of testing the credential of every bipolar who walked in the door? Or did he feel less special to be one bipolar in every hundred? Perhaps he wanted it to be one bipolar in every thousand or ten?