Who’s Crazy Now?
You will be shocked, disappointed and yet encouraged as you follow this twisted journey of misdiagnosis.
Read an Excerpt:
As the plane hissed and lurched downward on the tarmac at LAX in Los Angeles, the self inflicted cigarette burns were the least of our daughter, Kristin’s challenges as well as ours. Her younger brother, Jon took it on himself in June of 2001 to locate and bring his sister home to California from Vancouver, British Columbia. Though there had been several attempts previously, Kristin had remained in Vancouver existing on cocaine, heroine and a false sense of who she was. We did not know where she was and had had no contact with her for months. With a picture in his back pocket of Kristin and no clues to her whereabouts, he landed at the Vancouver Airport to look for his sister. Within 2 hours, he called us as he held Kristin tightly in his arms. He found her in a detox center with nothing but a hospital gown to her name. Through a series of carefully planned events, Jon was able to bring Kristin down to Southern California. At 23, he was not experienced in buying feminine underwear, clothing and shoes; however his mission was not complete until he handed her a new purse and followed her onto the 747 to fly away from the dark life of drugs and alcohol.
When Kristin and Jon came walking off of the airplane at LAX that evening, Kristin sauntered ahead of her brother with bandages covering her hands and parts of her face. Her thin, tired body tipped the scales at barely 100 pounds. Her 5’5” athletic body had disappeared into an emaciated, cocaine skeleton draped with tallow, translucent skin. Her once beautifully thick, brunette head of hair now lay lifeless and twisted around her sad face. My husband, Jerry and I anxiously waited for our oldest daughter and son to come home to us. We were nervous, but so excited to have our dear Kristin home with us to complete and restore our family as only she could do. Jon walked behind her with a look of lost hope on his face shaking his head back and forth and Kristin looked like a frightened, vulnerable little animal as she drew back from us with a look of wonderment and desperation. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself because my own daughter didn’t seem to know who I was. After embracing our children, each of us feeling our own individual loss, we watched Jon drive his old battered red truck out of the airport parking lot carrying the precious cargo of our two oldest children. As the California sun set on that sad looking entourage, Jon’s little Weimaraner, Chica, had ears flopping happily in the wind as they disappeared from our sight.
Jon’s quiet neighborhood in Santa Barbara seemed like the perfect setting for Kristin to rest and renew her spirit. That summer became a team effort to take care of Kristin. During the week, either my husband or I would spend the work week with Kristin and then we would come back to our place in Huntington Beach to look after our youngest daughter, Jana who was 13 at the time. Jon took over the weekends with Kristin completely. Wanting to get help and resource for our daughter, we took her to the County of Santa Barbara Department of Health Care Services on Camino Del Remedio. In an interview for eligibility for MIASP, observation caused the staff to force Kristin into the police car to take her to the mental health division of the hospital. As Kristin had gained courage and trust in her family during the summer, Jerry watched as the mental health care workers grabbed his 25 year old Kristin from his arms and hauled her off screaming and yelling, “Daddy, Daddy…No, No, No.” What started out as a request for financial help and possible program resource turned into a nightmare for all of us, especially Kristin. Her trust in us was dashed and her spirit was crushed even deeper as she was put into a lock down, cold prison like facility with her clothes taken and once again she found herself in a hospital nightgown.
Thus began a journey for our entire family that has deeply impacted each of us. Like a baby’s mobile over a crib, when the center piece is jiggled, all of the rest of the pieces are moved, as well. Kristin was the center piece of our family and we were all moving in different directions and at different speeds.