I was born in 1943 and grew up in Northern Ireland. In my youth I enjoyed playing hockey and tennis. I played these too at teacher training college in Manchester and later at senior level in Africa and in England. Even at that stage, I had some stamina and fatigue problems, and depression. Then I worked abroad teaching Agricultural Science and other subjects in Zambia in the late 1960s and early 70s and during that time I was exposed to an organophosphate (a pesticide called malathion) at work.

It was then that my depression deepened and my muscles, gut and brain were affected. By 1971, just before my brother John (RIP) died tragically in a car accident, I was on anti-depressants. However, they made me much worse, so I stopped taking them. In 1974 I suffered an unprovoked assault on my return from my second teaching contract in Zambia. I went out drinking with a friend and was going towards the hotel bar when I was struck a terrific single blow to the left-hand side of my jaw. I fell backwards and my head rebounded off the marble tiles. I came to, for a split second, felt a great rip inside my head, and then I was unconscious. I learned later that I had been shaking all over like a boxer when KO’d. Later that evening I was beaten up again and left unconscious outside my parents’ home. I was suffering from what is now called Secondary Impact Syndrome (SIS) which can be fatal. Rugby and other sports bodies have recently become aware of this. I didn’t want to cause my parents further distress after my brother John’s death, and I was too stubborn to go to the police or the hospital in spite of my seriously bruised spine, broken teeth, temporary double vision and the blood in my urine and faeces. I had to lie in a foetal position in the dark, as the light hurt my brain.

The following year I had to terminate teaching contracts in Zambia where I had been for the previous five years, and Papua New Guinea. The contract in Papua New Guinea meant I had to have a battery of vaccinations at my local Army barracks before I flew out there, but I was too ill even to start teaching. I had to return. After that my depression got much worse. I was treated with benzodiazepines and antidepressants over a period of seven/eight (?) years and I was given eight bouts of electro-convulsive therapy (ECT) in that time. The psychiatric treatment regime worsened my depression and caused me to suffer a severe breakdown in 1982 (Falkland War time!) and I became more suicidal after that. I had been on Ativan (which contains the active ingredient lorazepam, a benzodiazepine similar to valium, though I have been told it is at least ten times stronger) and I became seriously addicted to it for five years. Nobody in the NHS could get me off it. In fact I took part in a case study on Ativan addiction.

I took myself to a mental hospital for help. It was a terrible time. I ended up in 1982 locked up and fighting for my life. During my period in the mental hospital I became agitated, was restless and had hallucinations. I suffered from dreadful thirst and I was foaming at the mouth. I had at least one serious convulsion caused either by withdrawing from Ativan or by an injection I was given, which brought me close to death. I nearly bit my tongue off and my brain felt like a car engine with no oil, grinding on itself. My hearing and sense of smell were heightened but I seemed to have no taste left. An artery in my mouth burst and the thick, lumpy red blood nearly filled a jug that was handed to me. The damage to my mouth and tongue were permanent! Even during the recovery stage I was so weak, and unaware most of the time, that I had to be bathed.

When I got home I prayed to die. I could take no more. All my energy had gone, and so had the elasticity in my body and skin. After one of the ECT treatments my legs were like lead and I felt semi-paralysed. My condition was made worse by the fact that the consultant psychiatrist delegated my care to a trainee member of her team who had inclinations towards Christian Science, haranguing me about Jesus and forcing me to carry out demeaning and exhausting manual tasks. The ECT, or perhaps the accompanying anaesthetic, worsened my condition permanently. Seemingly, ECT should not be given to B12-deficient patients or to those affected by organophosphates and the medical profession needs to be aware of this. My medical records covering this time have been destroyed, so I cannot check whether the large injections I was given increased the addiction problem and helped to cause this terrifying crisis and everlasting suffering.

Afterwards, I was not able to play tennis or hockey any more and life would never be the same again, though eventually I found other interests. I have suffered from steadily increasing depression and extreme fatigue for forty years plus and my weight gain has been abnormal. These are classic symptoms of growth hormone deficiency, yet it was only in 2014 that I was finally diagnosed with this, and also with low testosterone. It is likely that my hypopituitarism (PTHP) had been caused by the effects of organophosphate exposure, benzodiazepine addiction/withdrawal and head injuries (caused by assault). I’m sure my brain has been injured in many other ways, but I think I would have had a better chance of a normal life if my pituitary damage had been spotted immediately.