Our daughter, Laurel, at age 18 was diagnosed with a serious psychotic condition. Then followed many years of events that are referred to in ITP practice as hits, pivots and plateaus. We paid little attention to plateaus, but hits and pivots came frequently, especially during the first years of her illness. Her mother, Imogene, and I were reeling and dealing. Never downplay the power of love to keep adversity from leading to inaction.
Imogene and I had begun a desperate search for medical answers and a possible cure, upstream on a journey littered with many sunken snags. Wading through our shock and tears, and my raving at God, Imogene and I realized we were exhibiting a healthy self-love and a deep and abiding love for each other and for Laurel. Laurel, early on, had voiced the fear that her illness would drive us apart; just the opposite occurred! But, nevertheless, six years in, a noted neurologist said that he could not put a name to the cross Laurel was bearing and that he knew of no cure. When pressed, he suggested the name of general brain deterioration syndrome.
The loss of hope for one’s child is a terrible reality. Laurel displayed bouts of anger, presumably because she was aware of losing her childhood dreams. Imogene and I strove to maintain our professorial duties at our university. However, we sat lower in our over-stuffed recliner chairs, shed deeper tears and held each other longer and more tenderly. Gradually, we were learning to tease apart the fabric of a hit and to ride the threads of positivity. For example, we were beginning to see Laurel as one of the most courageous souls we had ever known. My rants against God became more strident. Why?
As Laurel’s adult personality had begun to take shape, we realized that the middle name of compassion would have been appropriate for her. Being tuned into others was natural for her. But, in my view, God was preventing Laurel’s important gift from being used out in society!
As the years ground by in a state mental hospital, then a series of nursing homes -- none of them a proper fit -- Laurel was given a place in a managed-home program sponsored by the Miami County (OH), Department for the Developmentally Disabled; a Godsend for us all.
Imogene and I also could feel our grief being salved by Laurel’s examples of compassion within her world. The hits for Laurel were happening less frequently and were of lesser consequence, save for the death of her mother, Imogene, in 2010. That, of course, was a severe blow for both of us. But I have learned to move on, to have a life. That is partly because of a comment made by a very wise woman: “I have learned not to bemoan the end of some anticipated event but to treasure the fact that it happened.” That grateful mindset can enliven a lot of living.
A special revelation occurred during Laurel’s Celebration of Life Ceremony in 2019, after she died at age 54. As person after person told of how Laurel had enriched their lives, I realized that the swath she had cut was much deeper and broader than I knew. That her world needs tender loving care as much or more than does the general populace. That Laurel’s life was not wasted.
Also, from living life and reading the works of theologians, my view of God has changed greatly over the years; I’m not at all sure that God was to blame.