October 26 to 27, 2011
My phone rang that evening at about five. It was Gabriela.
“What time are you going to be here?” she asked.
“I’m not sure when the visiting hours are?”
“Six” she stated, with palpable concern that I wouldn’t show up.
“I’ll be there!”
“Okay,” she exhaled with relief. “I need quarters for the phone.”
I arrived at the hospital and I already knew the drill; the only thing I brought with me for this visit were the quarters, a ten dollar roll, and print outs of three studies done on Zonisamide, one of Gabriela’s medications.
All three studies had the same results: this medication could, after two to three years of successful use, suddenly cause psychosis, hallucinations (both auditory and visual), and delusions. I left the studies with the nurse, and asked that he please make sure that they got to the psychiatrist, that it was very important.
As I walked down the same hallway with the guard, I noticed one room with that same scary girl from the County Hospital, the one that had been locked in the room pounding against the glass; the dangerous one. There was a large note on her door that I couldn’t read, but I did make note of the room number as I walked by: 222.
I kept my head down and followed the guard into the dining room. Gabriela was seated further down the lunch table. This time we weren’t alone, there were three other patients visiting with family or friends.
Gabriela leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek and said under her breath, “I’m so embarrassed at the way I’ve been acting!”
I smiled at her and welcomed her back.… We talked about the hospital she was in and how much better she was doing, and then I told her I had spoken to her father. She sat quietly and listened without much response, but I’d planted the seed.
I asked if she was still hearing voices. She assured me that she was not, and that the whole thing was just so embarrassing.
I asked if she liked her roommate. She laughed a little. One of the other “clients” sitting nearby offered, “she has the freakiest roommate.… Gabriela has her because she’s so quiet and nice.”
My heart nearly stopped, I looked at Gabriela. “What room are you in?”
“222.”
She could read the concern on my face. “It’s okay mom, we don’t talk, she doesn’t bother me, and there’s always someone in our doorway watching her.”
That didn’t make me any less nervous, but there wasn’t anything I could have done about it. How could I have gone to the guards and ask that they not put my daughter in with a crazy person? The only thing I said to the guard as I left that evening was to please make sure my daughter would be okay. He nodded.
As I left the hospital, I damn near skipped back to the car…. Gabriela was back!
I called Cody and let him know that she was terrific. It was a short conversation, but her father wanted to see her when he returned from work over the weekend. That was fine with me, and I knew Gabriela would agree.
Gabriela had about a day and a half left to her 72 hour hold.
We had made it through an incredible week and were on our way back to a “normal” life.
My roommate Susan was amazed when I told her how well Gabriela was doing. Neither she nor I could really understand what the heck had happened, much less why it’d stopped so abruptly, but we were delighted.
The following day I drove back up for the midday visit with a clear mind, I had seen my daughter last evening, and she was back.
Everything about that day was warming, the sun was out, the sky was blue, the whole day felt light. It was a perfect day. I brought some chocolates for Gabriela, and more quarters. I wanted her to be able to call any time she wanted.
As I was walked back to visit by the guard, a very pleasant looking blonde woman standing in the “group session” doorway greeted me.
“Bobbie? May I speak with you for a moment?” She introduced herself and explained that she was a social worker. “Gabriela is going to be discharged now; it will take about one hour to process the paperwork.”
She also said that the psychiatrist appreciated the studies I left for him the other day. They had completely eliminated the Lorazapam and reduced all other medications by 50% after reviewing those studies.
Due to Gabriela’s response to the reduction of her medications, the psychiatrist had determined that my daughter had suffered a “complete psychotic break” and that her anti-epileptic drugs (AED’s) were likely responsible.
We were instructed not to restart the Lorazapam. However, the other AED’s needed to return to their full dose until their adjustments could be addressed by neurology.
We had been right all along!
The follow-up required bringing Gabriela back to her neurologist to have her AED’s adjusted. The hospital faxed the findings to Dr. Wreck’s office. That appointment needed to happen within seven days following discharge.
In my heart I knew I didn’t want to ever see that neurologist again. Dr. Wreck hadn’t listened for almost one full year and I felt she was the reason that my daughter had been through this horrific experience.
Gabriela and I walked out of Henry Mayo on that beautiful day, she was showered and wearing the new clothes I had brought her the day before. We walked arm in arm, leaving behind the dress and shoes and their reminders of the Holy water morning. We walked together to the car, happy to leave behind the people that she had been forced to be with for the last two days.
While we drove home, I told her that her father wanted to talk with her and that he would be calling in an hour or so. She was agreeable enough to talk with him; I also told her he wanted to see her in a few days. She nodded and smiled.
She told me on the way home she was feeling very light headed. We both knew that this was most likely due to the quick reductions of her medications, but by the evening dose this would be taken care of. Until then, it would be a relaxing day for both of us.
The rest of that day and the following we did whatever Gabriela wanted to do. I was so happy to have her back I would have done anything.
Late the second day she was home I noticed that, while Gabriela was not isolated, she was starting to ruminate, and she knew it too.