October 8 to 22, 2011
Gabriela had started sleeping only a few hours each night. She almost never ventured out of her room and if she did she always had a nasty comment to spit in my direction.
I peeked into her room and there she lay, leaned against the headboard of her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, smiling with her lips slightly parted, as if she were watching one of her favorite movies.
While tucked away in her room, she made appointments that she never wrote down and never told me about. She scheduled blood tests in cities that were hours from our house, laser appointments, eyebrow waxing, pedicures, the list went on and on…never to show up for any of them.
She would research on her iPhone for hours. I monitored her emails, call log and bank account; this was how I kept tabs on what she was doing since she’d become so isolated.
I spoke with Dr. Wreck’s assistant almost daily and explained that Gabriela was going down so fast that I didn’t believe she would make it to the scheduled appointment in another two weeks. The response from Dr. Wreck’s assistant was to the effect that the Doctor had a very full schedule; she enumerated the issues on the doctor’s plate, including a big surgery the doctor was preparing for next week. “So you can see, there is no ability to see Gabriela.”
It was critical, I told her. I was pleading. Gabriela needed to get in, the doctor needed to help. The response: “Dr. Wreck feels that Gabriela needs to see a psychiatrist.” That was it! I asked if they could help by getting Gabriela that appointment with psychiatry, which was a standard three to six month wait! The answer was “No.” There was no offer of help from Dr. Wreck’s office and we needed help NOW.
A few days later Dr. Wreck’s assistant called and said that the doctor wanted Gabriela to add a new medication to hold her over till the appointment: Lorazapam, to be taken morning and evenings until the appointment in seven days. The assistant indicated that the doctor now felt that the problems Gabriela was having were small-seizure related and that this medication would hold her till her scheduled appointment.
We started the new medication.
The first day of the Lorazapam my roommate was preparing to drive to visit her family in northern Washington State. She had asked if I thought she should cancel her trip, did I need any help? I assured her it would be fine.
Gabriela and I had a full schedule the second day of her newly added medication. We had two appointments.
The first was one we had waited for since July, with Dr Southland, a neurologist that specialized in the Anti-seizure diet (and one of the few doctors we knew of on the West Coast who did). Gabriela was really out of it. She was clearly over drugged, sitting half asleep, slouched in her chair, with her mouth hanging open.
Dr. Southland reviewed Gabriela’s records quietly and carefully. Occasionally, he peered over the top of his glasses to observe Gabriela as she struggled to answer his questions. This review lasted almost two and a half hours, it took its toll on Gabriela … and we still had one more appointment to go before our day would be over.
The second appointment was an assessment interview with Tri-Counties Regional Center. Gabriela asked me to carry this one for her. She sat very quietly next to me as we talked to an older gentleman about assistance that Gabriela may require to live independently.
We were both exhausted by the end of the day; when we got home Gabriela went directly upstairs to her room.
The next day was Friday. I made sure Gabriela ate and drank water…. Her lips were gray and dried, her eyes were circled in black and purple, the whites of her eyes had been replaced by red. Her hair was unwashed and uncombed.
My daughter is beautiful, not the kind of beauty that only a mother sees; the kind of beauty that the world sees and comments on. That day I looked at my daughter and that so obvious beauty that I had grown accustomed to seeing each day was gone. In its place was a very frightening looking young girl.
The day was uneventful, Gabriela stayed in her room. I went to bed about midnight, waking every hour or so to check on Gabriela.
At five in the morning I heard the shower start. I walked out of my room and asked Gabriela what she was doing?
“I have to get ready to go! They are coming to pick me up!” A big smile on her face, and excitement in her eyes.
“Who?” I asked.
“Mark,” she smiled contentedly.
“No one is coming,” I said, puzzled.
“He called.” She skipped off to her room.
“Let me see your phone.” I extended my hand.
She quickly started deleting Facebook messages on her cell phone. I could see that there were no responses to any of her messages, they were one-sided conversations. Oh my God, what was happening!
I asked her when “they” would arrive, she told me 15 minutes. I convinced her to wait with me in front of her bedroom window where we had a view of the driveway. We waited together; she repeatedly stood up to look out, her face pressed against the glass, then returned to sit next to me.
It wasn’t long before her enthusiasm slipped away and she fell asleep. I knew I would let her sleep as long as she could and then I would take her to Huntington hospital when she woke.