Now that Barack is President-man that feels good to say-I am hoping that we can do something about the millions suffering from various forms of mental illness that wander our streets in every major city and most small towns. The public scorns them, judges them falsely but mostly ignores them. These lost souls could be helped with some simple health care reform that would allow them to be diagnosed, medicated and surrounded by a good health team. I am looking forward to getting health care myself but getting help for the millions of mentally ill is what I look forward to the most about health care reform. This diary shares some short stories about Tom, a man who deals with the challenges of paranoid schizophrenia daily.
I walked down the rickety basement stairs of the group home. I heard some voices and peeked around the corner. There sat Tom and two men in black suits, crisp white shirts and ties. All three were holding a separate Bible. "Oh, this is going to be good," thought I.
"Hey, Bob, I be with you in a minute, we're just reading the Bible."
"Okay, Tom," I managed to get out before drawing a little blood from my lower lip. I ducked my head back and tiptoed to a good vantage point. I had to see this. I found a crack through the wall next to the washing machine and prepared for the show. I wasn't disappointed.
The older of the the two suits began with a reading from Matthew something and the other followed with his reading from the Book of Revelations. They had obviously done this before. Before they could start on the next part of the script Tom interrupted.
"You know , what does God, think about smoking? You know, that guy who stuck his head in here, he's my counselor, and we like to go all over the place and smoke. Hell, sometimes, I think we would like to have a smoke up on the moon."
Complete Silence....Until Tom continued undaunted:
"Are there any stories in the Bible on midgets? I think about midgets sometimes, if fact, there was this one midget who could beat anyone, and I mean anyone in 8-ball at the bar. He won so many games that they threw him into a garbage can and kicked him down the alley. I had to run down and get him out and his hair was all messed up but he seemed okay. Anything about midgets, in here?" and he started thumbing through the Bible way too fast.
I heard a synchoronized emphatic twin thump as the two men's Bibles snapped shut and both rose as one.
"Oh, we have to get going. Nice to meet you." and they hustled up the stairs with bedazzled looks on their faces that to me were priceless.
"You're coming back tomorrow aren't you?" Tom yelled up at them.
The only answer was a slammed door at the top of the stairs.
"Hey, Bob, it's time for a smoke." and he bolted up the stairs taking them two at a time.
I caught him on the porch just as he was lighting up one of his roll your own cigarettes he loves so much.
"Hey, what's with those guys? They don't know nothing about the Bible." he shared with me.
"I don't know but it sounds like you are doing some cartoon talking today, huh? " I said.
"Nah, I just wanted to know if there were any midget stories...Do you know? "
"I don't think the Bible has any midget stories but I could be wrong. But let's make certain of dropping the cartoon talk , I'm not into it today.
"Okay, I'll watch it. Ready to go?"he said and suddenly smashed out his smoke and took off toward the car.
We were halfway to Starbucks when he said, "Those guys know nothing, nothing, I mean nothing about the Bible." He was polite, appropriate and pleasant with everyone for the rest of the day we spent together. All his comments were regular. He thanked me for the outing as I dropped him off.
"No, thank you Tom," I murmured when he was out of hearing range and entering the group home. I had just seen something that is more rare than a solar eclipse. I was blessed with the forever memory of witnessing two Jehovah Witnesses running from a home. I giggled in spurts all the way home.
*****************************************************************
Tom, I have to admit is my favorite all-time client. He is a huge man, and not all fat at 325 pounds. He is a gentle giant and I have never heard him say anything in anger or anything negative about anyone. He aims to please and is appreciative of anything I do for or with him. He is remarkably happy on most days. He is definitely the kindest, nicest man I have ever known. I love him like a brother and we have been together for going on seven years. But every so often he gets off track and says the most interesting and entertaining things. His problem? He drew the paranoid schizophrenic card in his early twenties and struggled mightly with excessive drinking and getting thrown in jail for petty crimes until he was diagnosed and given appropriate psychotropic medication that has allowed him to live a mostly independent life at his group home for the past 25 years.
But Tom is luckier than most.
First, he has a good health care team around him. He has a doctor who understands and the office staff is always kind and respectful in dealing with him. The state’s Nurse Practioner who monitors his meds is knowledgeable and meets with him every two months to keep him on track. The state has allocated, after three years of my complaining, an adequate amount of hours to allow me to teach him skills, keep him from getting isolated and pull him out of the beginning of psychotic episodes before they become so serious that he ends up in the hospital.
This is all possible because he went through the lengthy disability process with Social Security and qualified years ago. This allows him to get a small amount of money around $700 a month, and qualifies him for Medicaid. The state picks up the tab for his psychotropic medications that are about $1200 a month. He, like 60% of all schizophrenic males, attempted suicide, but failed. People with this disease have a 50 times higher suicide rate than the general population. In 90% of all suicide deaths the victim had a mental illness. He did some time years ago in jail, for vagrancy which is typical, used alcohol to an extreme to self-medicate, was homeless for a time and finally got diagnosed in his young twenties while hospitalized at a state mental facility. He has already beat the odds.
He is in his late forties..Schizophrenics die on the average 25 years younger than the general population. Why? Poor or no health care, homelessness and lack of being able to communicate health concerns properly to get the proper help and of course the tragedy of self-harm. For a good article on this common and treatable disease go to:
http://www.clevelandclinic.org/...
*****************************************************************
Here are few more stories from my best of Tom series.
I walked down the stairs and noticed it was simply freezing down there. It was December 12th and there was 18 inches of snow on the ground that had been there for weeks. It was about 20 degrees outside and not much warmer in Tom's basement room. He was sitting in the dark with the window wide open, wearing a pair of cutoffs and no shirt.
"What in the world are you doing? It's freezing down here!, I said as I closed the window.
"I'm hurting all over the place. If I were an old dog they'd shoot me."
"What happened you were fine Monday?"
"I hurt my knee really bad."
"How did you hurt your knee?"
"I was up in the barn and Mr. Ed the talking horse jumped out and bit me in the knee. Then Hoss Cartwright came out and told me no way he was going to tell me where Little Joe was."
"Hey, I watched TV too, pal. I want you to go take a shower, put on clean clothes and tell me what really happened to your knee when I get back here in two hours. We are going to Denny's and get you something to eat."I told him and then raced up the stairs hoping my timing had been right.
Two hours later. ... I walk through the front door and there Is Tom all dressed in clean clothes. He jumps up and before I can say a word says:
"I know how I hurt my knee. I was riding in Del's pickup in the back and he hit some ice and I fell really hard and dinged up my knee."
"Why that is certainly a lot better than that nonsense about Mr. Ed and the Cartwrights."
He leaned toward me and whispered while looking around the room : "I left out the outer spacemen."
****************************************************************
I walked in and Tom was sitting at the kitchen table and he was very upset. His mother who is in her eighties had been calling him up and asking about buying him a burial site and bugging him to go to the doctor and he was at wit's end.
"What's the story-she hasn't called you in months and now she calls everyday? Does she have some problems?"
"You, bet. I think it started when she had that mean third grade midget teacher who made her stand up in front of the class and shaved her head."
"Oh, come on Tom, did that really happen?" I asked.
"Could have," he answered immediately.
***************************************************************
This is my favorite:
Tom was lying flat on the tired old couch of the group home which was unusual and I knew something was up.
"What are you doing, Tom? Come on get up let’s go to lunch."
"No, I can’t today. King Tut ate all the minestrone."
"What? That can’t be true because King Tut wasn’t an Italian" I answered.
"That’s what you say," he answered as his eyes stayed focused on the ceiling.
"Seriously, let’s go. We’ll go to Starbucks and get a mocha."
"Bob, I can’t go anywhere. The Japanese Jerry Springer is driving me crazy today."
"You’re staying home right? I’ll be back in a couple of hours.
"Yeah, I'll be right here."
He was asleep when I returned so I made certain to get there early the next morning. I walked through the door and there he sat at the kitchen table with his shirt off eating a huge bowl of macaroni and cheese. He gave me the football touchdown hand sign and said:
"I'm doing a lot better today."
"I certainly hope so. Yesterday, you were telling me about King Tut and the Japanese Jerry Springer."
"Well, Bob, that's why when I play in the band they never give me the microphone."
*****************************************************************
There are hundreds of thousands of Tom's who have the same disease but for a variety of reasons don't get diagnosed or treated with effective medications. They are living homeless on every major city's streets. Schizophrenia is more common than Aids, MS and Cerebral Palsy all put together. They hear voices, wander the streets, cause trouble when they don't mean to and get thrown in jail for petty crimes. They drink or take drugs to stop the voices. Occasionally, they black out completely and get violent.
But society turns a scornful eye toward them, condemns them, judges them but mostly ignores them. This is so tragic as it is a treatable disease. Now, that wonderful Barack is our President, maybe we can get serious about saving these poor souls. This is part of health care reform I most wish for in the future.
Now, for anyone who thinks I was making fun of Tom for his unusual comments, I say that isn't true at all. It is just a sign and symptom of his disorder and in his case his signs and symptoms have a bit of humor to them. He is well taken care of by a good health team and nobody on his team, especially me, would ever allow him to be ridiculed or mocked. This is such a baffling disease and how he puts some things together is to me just amazing. And yes, I have others whose struggles are much more serious and complex.