November 11, 2011
As I left Huntington Hospital that day, my mind ran over the differences in Gabriela in the last 24 hours. There had been clear indications that we needed to get Gabriela help the day before, but there was absolutely no warning that the situation would escalate so rapidly and so severely.
What had happened? Would she ever get better? Gabriela got to Huntington just in time!
Gabriela and I had painstakingly selected Huntington Hospital because of its great reputation in both neurology and psychiatry. I had spoken with the neurologist there and she’d assured me that the two departments would work together to resolve my daughter’s issues.
I wasn’t sure I could do this. Part of me wanted to leave the hospital that afternoon and never come back. I walked behind the nurse, holding the binder of Gabriela’s records tightly to my chest.
I was in so far over my head.
As the nurse let me out the second set of doors, I made no effort at conversation and responded to nothing. I just walked forward clutching the binder. My mind was completely consumed with concern for my daughter.
Gabriela and I had always been a team. I was so accustomed to having Gabriela, my smarter partner, by my side. How would I ever do this alone?
I don’t remember the walk to the car, nor the car ride home that day.
I had texted Cody, and his girlfriend, Kiki, the previous day—the first day of the hold—to let them know that Gabriela was back in the hospital. They both responded sympathetically. Cody had recently adopted a new mantra, “we all need to just get along for the kid.” My reflex was to roll my eyes.
For some reason, Cody had always felt at ease with flying in and out of Gabriela’s life. Now he had decided to fly back, which meant I would have to tolerate him.
Cody worked on an oil platform off the coast of California, and because of that he always said he couldn’t take time off to visit Gabriela while she was in the hospital. Although we both knew that if he wanted to see her, he could have.
Cody had assured me that in his absence, Kiki would visit Gabriela. And she had visited a few times, like that first night at Huntington, the night of Gabriela’s attempted escape.
I called Kiki that evening and asked how Gabriela was after her visit. “Fine, quiet, she didn’t talk much, but she was doing well.”
I knew that Gabriela had been moved to Ward 400 by the time Kiki had visited, so I knew it was after Gabriela’s attempted break out. How could she have responded with “Fine”?!
It looked like Huntington wasn’t going to be a quick stay for Gabriela, not like the last one at Henry Mayo where her medications had been dramatically reduced, and she had magically become better.
I was horrified at the thought of how this could end.