Monday, August 15, 2005

Fall 2004

"Dad, I need a ride home".
"Ok, where are you?"
"At the hospital"
"Why are you at the hospital?"
"Christie is here - she won't wake up"

And with that we discovered she had been huffing lysol. Her friend did wake up a bit later, and they laughed about it. I wasn't laughing. We had been on waiting lists to get her in some therapy, but we couldn't wait any more. We called a local youth treatment center, took her in for evaluation, and they admitted her. She admitted to drinking a lot, and being around pot (getting contact highs but never smoking). She admitted to stealing money from Diane's purse and from her brothers. She got out of the treatment, and moved into the half day program for a few weeks. We got her in to see a psychiatrist and therapist, and he started monitoring her depression medicine.

We thought things were working, but a few weeks later she had a complete meltdown, threatening suicide. She was so out of control that we ended up calling 911 - they took her back to the hospital and admitted her again. Modifying her meds, they rushed her back out because my insurance was about up (only allowing 30 days lifetime for mental health inpatient treatment).

We kept her going to therapy, but things are home were not getting better. Eventually Diane had to completely break off any contact with her - they existed in the same house but did not speak, to avoid them only yelling. We thought it might help to have her visit her mother for Christmas, so we sent her for a couple of weeks. It didn't change much - and she came back and things were the same.

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