It began with the headaches. It was January 2017, and our son Alec Dulude was a junior at Oregon State University, studying engineering. It crossed his mind that maybe he was just working himself too hard — sure, he was having trouble concentrating in his classes, and having trouble sleeping, but what college student doesn’t go through that?

But the symptoms only got worse as time dragged on. Now Alec was falling behind in his classes. As days became weeks, with no relief from the pain and mental fog, Alec became depressed and withdrawn. A smattering of standard medical tests revealed nothing unusual, even while his life seemed to be unraveling in front of him.

Alec turned to his athletic side to try and take control of his situation: he forced himself to exercise when he could, and he believed that eating only healthy foods, juicing, and taking supplements would have a positive impact on easing his headaches and brain fog, and helping him sleep through the night. But none of that had any lasting effect.

We pushed for more tests. But the physicians’ recommendations — that Alec enter counseling and take medications for his anxiety, OCD symptoms, depression and sleep problems — only made Alec disillusioned with us and his doctors. He knew, he could feel, there was something more going on, but all he kept getting from the health care system was a shrug, a bottle of pills, and hustled out the door.

As Alec’s symptoms got worse he went from the emergency room to the psychiatric hospital — a total of nine times. Depending on the hospital he was in, the doctors would deliver their sage diagnoses that Alec suffered from OCD, eating disorder, anxiety, depression, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and oppositional defiant disorder.

Their solution, not surprisingly, was to load him up with mood- and behavior-altering drugs. SSRIs. Anti-depressants. Prescription headache medications. Sleep meds. We have more drugs than you have problems, they seemed to be telling him.

When Alec was discharged from the hospital, he told us he felt drugged and like a zombie. He begged us to take him off the medication and let him heal naturally. The medications’ side effects were horrible, and nothing seemed to improve his symptoms. It was like a knife in our hearts to watch him suffer. At the same time, the doctors would tell us that there was nothing left to do; Alec would need medication and counseling for the rest of his life.

More time passed. Alec was sliding into an abyss of pain and mental illness. He began having bizarre sexual thoughts. Thoughts of suicide began crowding his mind. The meds weren’t helping. Talking it out didn’t help. On one night, the toxic stew of pain, anger, and mental confusion boiled over and Alec struck his dad in a fit of rage. Police were called. Alec spent the night in jail.

Alec couldn’t explain these outbursts of anger to the judge — he had always had a great relationship with his dad. The judge ruled that Alec was unable to “aid and assist” in his own defense, so he was committed to the Oregon State Hospital. At last, we thought, we’ll be able to get some definitive tests done.

By this time, we had begun looking for other causes of Alec’s change in behavior and declining physical health. After weeks of pleading by his dad, Alec’s psychiatrist and physician finally agreed to consult with Dr. Mozayeni, an expert on tick-borne illnesses, and test Alec for Bartonella. The test result came back positive. For the first time since the onset of his college headaches years ago, Alec was given antibiotics for a definitive illness that conclusively appeared after having taken the right test.

The antibiotic treatment helped Alec to begin to crawl out of the smoking crater of declining health and mental illness. As Alec’s brain health improved, his psychiatrist noted the improvement in his reports. “The old Alec” started to resurface, and with renewed motivation he dove into studying the terminology and definitions to prove to the judge he could “aid and assist” in his own defense.

Certainly, this glimmer of light at the end of a dark tunnel was joyful to us as parents, but we knew it was just the start of a long climb for our son. We pleaded with staff to keep Alec in the state hospital for continuing treatment, where he could be monitored in a safe environment, given that thoughts of suicide had not completely been erased from his mind.

The hospital had other ideas, though — they decided that Alec should be released and returned to jail. After spending 2 days in jail, the judge released Alec and sentenced him to nine months of probation. Being short of options for any type of residential program, Alec checked into the Union Gospel Mission in downtown Salem.

While he was there, we delivered his medication daily. After 10 days of this, we could see a vast improvement in our son’s mental health. He had shown good behavior during his stay, and he begged us to take him home.

The Alec we raised and knew before he got sick was starting to shine through once again. His snarky quick wit, sarcasm, love of comedy movies, wiring speaker systems, and cooking — even organizing a ski trip with his family to Mt. Hood – these were all hopeful signs of a return to a new normalcy for our son.

Despite the improvements in Alec’s personality and interactions with others — he was laughing and carrying on meaningful conversations with no anger issues — he was still exhibiting psychotic behavior at times during the day.

On March 31, 2023 Alec took an overdose of his dad’s blood pressure medication — no warning, no notice. While he was still conscious, Alec said he was sorry, he was just searching for help.

EMS arrived quickly and rushed Alec to the hospital. He was placed in the ICU, but despite hours of effort there would be no resuscitating him. Our beloved son’s heart stopped beating at 8:31 AM, April 1, 2023, and a wrenching hole was ripped into the hearts and lives of those of us that loved him.