 
There should be a special award for husbands like mine. Thirty-six years of marriage to a woman with bi-polar disorder; not to mention current menopause.
I was diagnosed with bipolar affective disorder on October 13, 1988. I also remember what I was doing on the day I heard that President Kennedy had been shot. And I usually remember my wedding anniversary. After that I tend to become a little bit like Edith Bunker, but the date of my diagnosis is forever etched into my memory.
The spiral to hell began with a family outing to the Grand Canyon and ended with a half-frozen chicken.
Our two teenage sons helped pack the family van with tents and fishing poles and we sang songs and reminisced as we drove the 650 miles; our first visit to the Grand Canyon. We arrived in time for a glorious sunset, set up our camp, enjoyed our meal, and slept well in the mountain air.
Read in Full:Â http://www.mentalhelp.net/poc/view_doc.php?type=doc&id=39618&cn=4
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