The Girl with the Shining
Red Hair
The phone is ringing for the 12th time. I ignore
it because I know it is my sister. She leaves me a message – “Hello Elaine I
guess I’ll call you tomorrow I heard that they put me on Dateline and it was
good, and across the street they told me that were proud that I did it Dr.
Carter told me that I had more than seven bullets in my head that since I was
shot and I survived that I must be innocent none the least and um Kendra just
witnessed my baby rolling and farting and so I am pregnant and it’s not my
mind. Love You Bye oh and don’t worry, and tell Jessica not to worry about what
was on Channel 6 it didn’t hurt I didn’t show anything.”
She wasn’t always like this. She was beautiful with shining
red hair and bright blue eyes. She even did some modeling in high school. She
went to cosmetology school and became quite proficient as a colorist under the
direction of Paul Mitchell himself. Of course like any girl, she fell in love
and had the subsequent heartbreak. Many of us cry for some time, maybe get
angry, but eventually our hearts heal and we move on to better things.
I remember the night I got a phone call when we were both in
our 20’s. She was in New York, our parents were living in Italy and I was in
Las Vegas. I could tell right away something was wrong. Her words didn’t make
sense. She said that she and her boyfriend had broken up and she was afraid of
what she might do. She said she burnt herself. I told her she needed to call
911 and that was the first of many hospitalizations.
Shortly after that my parents returned to the states and
moved to Georgia. My sister joined them there. She seemed better for a while, even
happy. She even started dating and had plans to marry. Sadly before the wedding
happened, she suffered a heart attack that damaged a large portion of her heart
and they postponed the wedding. Finally the big day arrived and she was a
beautiful bride.
Sometimes the depression seemed to take over her life. For
months she would be happy and excited about everything life had to offer and excited
about learning new things. Then the bottom would fall out and she would be back
in the hospital. She was a cosmetologist when the voices started. Mostly degrading and hateful, sometimes just
a whisper yet other times yelling in her ears. They were relentless.
She began a new life pursuit. She began
attending culinary arts school. She loved it and she was good at it. Everything
went well until it came time for her to complete her externship. She never was
able to move on to that last step.
Her husband was another challenge in her life. As a chronic
alcoholic himself, he was unable to help care for Gina. Part of me felt sorry for him because I knew it could
not be easy living with someone with a disease that when uncontrolled can be
the roller coaster from hell. Other times I was angry and blamed him because he
wouldn’t get well himself so he could help her. My mom helped as much as she could, often driving the 130
mile round trip weekly to help.
My dad, on the other hand, was angry. It was hard for him to
understand that Gina was sick. He didn’t understand that she wasn’t trying to
be irresponsible. He also hated that her husband was not helping her more.
I moved out to Georgia in 2009. Unexpectedly my mom passed away one month after I got here. I took over the
care of my dad. As a blessing, because of his Alzheimer’s, he forgot the
animosity he had towards my sister and her husband. They had the reconciliation
that she desperately needed. He passed away in April 2011.
I knew their passing would be hard on Gina. I assumed the
role that my mother played and went out to take her to her doctor appointments
on a monthly basis. It was painful sometimes to see the living conditions she
lived in. Often she would call me because she and her husband were fighting. I’ll be honest, I hoped she would finally leave her husband, but she
was convinced leaving would be worse. Her agitation and aggression got worse
and often her husband would call me, not knowing how to handle the situation. I
recommended that he take her to the hospital or call 911 so she could get the treatment
she needed.
I had been in contact with adult social services, the sheriff’s
office and even the county judge trying to get some kind of intervention.
Everyone told me their hands were tied. Unless she actually committed a crime
they could not force her to get treatment.
In February 2012, I got the phone call I knew would
eventually come. Gina’s husband called to tell me that he had been away at his
mother’s and when he got home Gina was in the closet. She didn’t recognize him
so she hit him in the head. He called 911, however he was arrested due to an
outstanding warrant on a DUI charge. Gina
was left alone in the trailer.
It was time. I needed to get my sister into the hospital. My
best friend went with me in case anything happened. I was not prepared for what I saw.
Most of their belongings were on their front porch, along with piles of empty
beer cans. I knocked on the door and I could hear her screaming profanities,
jumbled sentences and random letters and numbers. She opened the door and then
slammed it in my face. I was trying to balance myself precariously on the pile
of clothes, knick-knacks and even a mattress. I knocked again and called out
that I wanted to make sure she was alright. At that moment the door flew open
and she pushed me off her porch. She never has gotten physical before nor since that time. She yelled at me again and slammed the door
shut. We headed into town to see the judge. He finally signed the order to have
her hospitalized.
She was in the psychiatric hospital for 2 months, then
released to a personal care home, because her husband was still in jail at the
time. Since then we have not seen nor heard from him, nor has he assisted with
her care. She has invented new parents, rarely ever talking about our mom and
dad. Multiple times she says her husband has been killed or they are divorced.
She is convinced that a boy she dated in high school was actually Axel Rose, from
the band Guns N’ Roses and that he is her husband.
Upon her release from the hospital her delusions were
constant but she seemed happy with her living arrangement. Mostly she
talks about money the government owes her for things she has invented. She talks about Axel and has multiple
names for him. She believes she has over
30 children and that she is frequently pregnant, all of which is not true. She
gets frustrated when I tell her I don’t have any checks or a bank card for her,
but I can usually tell her I will check on them and she seems appeased for the
time being.
During the next couple years there would be multiple
hospitalizations We decided it would be best to move her into town and into a personal care home closer to me.
It was also our hope that we would find a better doctor for her care.
In October 2015 things became critical. Gina woke up one morning unable to breathe. She was rushed to
the hospital in V-tach. Her heart was not beating properly. Test results showed
that her heart was only working at 20% and the left ventricle had damaged
tissue. An anti-arrhythmia drug was added and she was
released.
There were six psychiatric hospitalizations in six months. One time she
was almost catatonic when she was released. She looked right through you and
wouldn’t answer you if you asked her a question. As the week progressed she
seemed to get better, but as time went by she started to get more and more
agitated and argumentative. On a trip to the cardiologist she seemed more irritable
than ever, but I assumed it was because she might have thought she was going
back to the hospital. It took multiple assurances that we were only going to
the cardiologist. She seemed to settle down once the appointment was done.
Less than a week later I got a call from the personal care
home. Gina was screaming and yelling and trying to leave the in the middle of the night. Even when she was shown a video of her attempts she
denied it. Her delusions were angry and she was yelling out random things. I
hopped in the car once again knowing a hospitalization was in store. When I got
there she was yelling and just plain angry. I was able to convince her to go to
the hospital with me and we headed to the emergency room.
They put us in a bare room and she constantly called out
random things, some of them angry. I sat quietly not wanting to irritate her
more. Each time a doctor or nurse came in she told them that she was the
surgeon general and that all she needed was her prescriptions and marijuana because she thinks has glaucoma. She
told them nothing is wrong with her. She just has brain damage from the bullets
they pulled out of her skull.
Once admitted she was refusing to take medication and would have to have injections
in order to calm her down. Security was having to be called multiple times a
day. On Christmas Day I went to see her. I did not want her to be all
alone on such a special day. She would not hug me and was still very angry. I kept the
visit short. Her face teamed with anger. The only time she smiled was when I
gave her the M&M’s I brought her for a treat. A couple days later she was transferred to a more specific and
secure facility. She has been in that psychiatric hospital for over a year now
and her heart condition continues to decline.
Thankfully the hospital is in town so I am able to continue
to be involved in her care. However, I
am tired. I struggle, trying to balance my need to care for my sister and my
need to care for my daughter and somehow care for myself. My heart aches
wondering if Gina will ever be stable. I feel guilty as I ask God to please
give her relief, sometimes wondering if death would be better than the torture
she is enduring. I look at her closely. Her hair is still the beautiful red,
with highlights of gold, but her eyes are dark, her face angry.
I wait, not knowing . . . . I wait, wondering if she will
ever come out of the hospital, I wait, wondering if she will have to go to yet
another facility, I wait, wondering where she will be able to live, and I wait .
. . .wondering if she will ever smile again.
