09: Psych Hold Number One

October 25, 2011

I believe that the back story just provided will help in understanding the night  leading up to the Holy water. I will continue with those events from here.

When the Police officer and I arrived at the county hospital ER, Gabriela was alone in a secured room. Situated next to the nursing station, her room had windows on two sides so she would be visible not only from the nurses’ station, but from the hallway, as well. All psych holds for the county were taken first to this ER to be medically cleared.

Gabriela’s hair and dress were still wet from the Holy water. She seemed content, meaning, neither sad nor happy. She was busy, walking backwards, hopping on one foot, and then sitting briefly.

She smirked at something that only she could hear. She gestured with her hands as though she were making her way through thick reeds in a swamp … then turned with a surprised expression, looking under the bed as if surely something would be hiding there.

The ER doctor asked me to accompany him out of the room to discuss Gabriela’s medications.  This was pretty easy for me, I had become accustomed to listing off her medications and their doses… 300 mg Lamictal morning and night, 100 mg Zonisamide AM, 200 mg PM. 1 mg Lorazepam morning and night. Gabriela hadn’t taken any medications this morning, generally her medications were taken about 10 AM and 10 PM.

I explained that Gabriela and I had been complaining to her neurologist for almost a year now that she was showing signs of psychosis, and that this had happened once prior on a medication she had taken successfully for almost three years.

Suddenly, on that previous medication (Topamax), Gabriela had become delusional. Within a few days it had progressed to a stupor. Gabriela’s pediatric neurologist had cut the dose of her Topamax in half right away. Within 24 hours Gabriela was substantially improved. That doctor had then started the complete removal of that medication, and as a result all resolved well.

Now, however, her current doctor, Dr. Wreck, did not respond in the same way … Gabriela was fully on all medications, no reductions, no substantial changes.

It was nearly 10 in the morning by now, the ER doctor looked at me and asked what medications I wanted my daughter to take that morning, that sometimes the best doctors were mothers. My decision was that everything stay the same and reduce the zonisamide slightly. So that’s what was done.

I wasn’t in the ER long with Gabriela; the police officer was instructed to take me to the behavioral facility next door to get the preliminary work done to admit my daughter.

It must have been apparent that I was not in my element. I’m sure I looked shell shocked or maybe just exhausted … I was.

The woman that was taking down background information looked at me while we talked about family history, prior history, medical history…. She very nicely said, “I want you to take care of yourself; we will take care of your daughter, but you won’t be any help to her if you don’t take care of you.”

Tears welled in my eyes, I bowed my head, bit my bottom lip and nodded my head in agreement; but couldn’t force a word out. I sat with my head down, till I could compose myself enough to continue the conversation.

Abruptly, an orderly came into the room and spoke directly to me. “I’m going to need to let you out of the building right now, we have someone coming in that could be dangerous.”

I stood up, a little unsure of myself. “I don’t have my purse, or anything?” I said as I made my way around the interview table and toward the door.

“It will be fine; we just need you to be out of the room while we bring in a new patient,” he stated calmly, “Then you can come on back.”

The alarming thought to me was that I had to leave because someone who was too dangerous to be around was on their way in, but my daughter was going to be housemates, so to speak, with that person. I waited in the lobby while they brought the person in. Within minutes the guard came back and got me.

As we walked down the corridor we passed a room with a young Hispanic girl in it, she couldn’t have been 25. She was pounding on the narrow, oblong wire mesh glass window in the door, the kind I remember from my elementary school, screaming at the top of her lungs. That must be the dangerous one, I thought to myself.

I reentered the interview room, Gabriela was there. She was in the back of the room, walking backwards, hopping, etc. The interviewer was unfazed by my daughter’s activities, she just proceeded with her questions for me.

In closing she asked if I had any questions for her. I thought, what the hell! I have no idea, it’s not like I’ve ever prepared myself for putting my daughter in a psych ward! I had no fucking idea what I needed to ask! … All I could muster was a weak, “When can I visit her?”

This very gentle nurse that had become so comfortable with mental illness/behavioral health/crazy people … explained visiting hours: 1:00-1:45 daily, Mondays through Fridays, 5:30 – 7:00 each evening; and weekend hours were much longer.

We both rose to walk out. Gabriela was in the back of the room, still consumed with her world. I interrupted her, “I’ll be back this evening during visiting hours.” She got it, she heard me, and then continued with whatever she was involved in.

The orderly stayed behind with Gabriela and the nurse got my purse and coat. While she walked me out again she repeated the warning, “You take care of yourself, get the help you need.” The officer was there in the waiting area, he rose as I entered. I turned and thanked the nurse.

A load had been lifted or maybe just exchanged. Gabriela was now in a hospital, she would be better taken care of than at home, she would get help.

I would be able to rest.

The police officer and I talked in the car on the way back to the church parking lot. I asked what he’d thought when he got the call that morning that someone was in the Holy water? He was Catholic, he explained, and had thought, “What? That can’t be right.”  We both laughed uneasily about it. Then I remember saying, “You know if we were watching this on a movie, we would both be laughing.” We laughed again. I thanked him for his help as he dropped me off at my car.

I drove the same route home that I had taken with my daughter earlier that morning. The second time, I only remember how quiet the ride was. My eyes filled over and over again, sometimes spilling out and pouring down my face. I rubbed my eyes to stop it but it was just a temporary fix before it happened all over again.

I had been trying to get help for my daughter critically for three weeks, I had been trying urgently for five months, I had been concerned and asking for help for ten months. I was exhausted, but she was going to get help at last.

At home I didn’t make it any further than the living room sofa, where blankets and pillows remained from the previous nights. It was nearly three in the afternoon. I laid down on the sofa and fell asleep.

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