Andy (The Book)

 

Chapter 7

That night, he'd also talked briefly about another concern. It seemed he'd been getting threatening letters from the state hospital about a loan they'd given him and he'd been unable to pay. (He'd borrowed money when we were homeless in 1997.) He said he was afraid they'd put him in jail. We talked about ways of dealing with it to avoid this happening. I told them they couldn't get something we don't have. Someone would have to understand and we'd find someone to talk to about it.

Episodes like these take time to get over. The children alters protested and wouldn't let Andy eat. Andy got irritable with me because I wanted to go outside and work in my garden, therapy I needed for myself. I couldn't do much, but just standing with a rake out in the fresh air was helpful towards getting my mind off my health problems. But Andy kept having mild attacks, over and over. We'd spent all our money on medications for my asthma attack and for some reason Andy refused to call and ask for financial help from his mom. And for three days I had been expected as a walk-in appointment at my medical doctors but unable to get there in time. I needed to take care of my health and was finding it impossible. I somehow stayed calm. I guess I was finally accepting what I could and could not do to help the situation, like in the serenity prayer. All my life I'd heard "Let go and let God". Now I was finally doing it and it was a relief. 
 

I ended up in the emergency room a third time before I finally got in to see my medical doctor. Andy almost made it impossible. He was mad because I was supposed to be taking care of him. He wasn't supposed to be out of bed. After all, he was close to pneumonia again. And he wasn't supposed to be left alone because of his chest pains and seizures. He couldn't understand that I couldn't help him if I didn't help myself first. 
 

He decided he had to go with me and insisted, as usual, to drive. All the way to town he kept moaning about chest pains, his breathing was strained and he gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand. He said he was numb, but Grenudo had the wheel. There are a few cliffs and a few drop-offs along the interstate between here and Las Vegas. He didn't seem to have control of the gas pedal and I was afraid going around the curves at 75 MPH. But he absolutely refused to pull over and let me drive.  The next afternoon, he went back to town and met with people from the state hospital about the money he owed. Then he met with his worker in billing at the hospital in Vegas about a 4 year outstanding bill for almost $10,000 there. He came back feeling better because they'd promised to help him and he wouldn't go to jail, after all. Then that night he went in to play pool with his team in Las Vegas. He'd been told that they'd have to forfeit if he didn't show and he couldn't disappoint the team.

He had seen his medical doctor also and been told that Dr. Lewis had called him. Dr. Lewis was going to take another job and would, after all, be moving to Washington D.C. soon. He only had one more scheduled appointment left and it was for the following Monday. He couldn't wait, he went on Friday to see her. This time he came back feeling better.

That night he went to the Ringside to help Yolanda and practice his pool. It was after 2AM when he came home. He had held the pool table all night, winning 17 straight and beating several pros who were ranked well above him. And he'd won a t-shirt and gift certificate for kareoke. He was on top of the world. Talk about a roller coaster ride!

Life settled down for a few weeks, finally. Andy had some problems with another member of his pool team in Santa Fe, but he worked them out in time to go to the state championship with the team. His Las Vegas team didn't make it to state, but Andy did win a chance to play in the state regional championship as an individual.

He returned to seeing Jim, his former therapist at the mental health office in Pecos. He complained of chest pains after a session, but said he knew it was just the stress of therapy. And he spent more time, with the children alters, playing video games upstairs.

Another stressor was added to our lives in May of the year 2000. New Mexico was on fire!           

The first two nights that there were evacuations in Los Alamos, Andy volunteered with the Red Cross. He spent those nights working at shelters in the town of White Rock. I stayed home because of my asthma, it would be dangerous for me to be near the smoke from the fires.

Los Alamos was about 100 miles away and he was, reportedly, the volunteer that came from the farthest away. He was tired, but he appeared to feel good about being able to help. When he came home, it was because I needed the car for an appointment with David. Unfortunately, David had cancelled again. 

 

I thought Andy would go back to work with the Red Cross, but by then he was having chest pains. Two nights were all he could handle. And by then they had begun to evacuate the entire town of Los Alamos and numerous other people had stepped forward as volunteers. Eventually they evacuated White Rock and the fire spread uncontrollably.

The wind was extremely fierce and when I heard it was shifting to the west I knew I might have to leave too. Even though we were so far away, the smoke was getting really bad. I tried to explain it to Andy, and gave him the option of coming with me. When we went to sleep he hadn't made up his mind. The next morning I was up plenty early and if I'd left right away the smoke wouldn't have bothered me. But I was concerned about him and took my time getting ready with the hopes that he'd wake soon. By the time he woke and made up his mind, it was quite smoky outside. He said he'd be okay home alone and I left.

I thought I could drive faster and farther then the smoke could travel and I headed south then east on I-40. The sky to the west was red and brown, the sky to the east was gray. My throat and my eyes burned but, luckily, I only had a little wheezing. I'd taken several doses of the herb, Yerba Santa, and it seemed to help a lot. But as I neared the town of Santa Rosa, it was obvious the smoke was not going to end.

I found a hospital emergency room and stopped there. It was a little clinic with 24 hour walk-in. The people there were really nice and we discussed my options. I didn't need a breathing treatment yet, but they understood my concern. They didn't think I could drive far enough to get away from the smoke and suggested I get a motel room near there. So, that's what I did.

I really wanted to find fresh air, lay out my sleeping bag, and read a book. But Andy made me promise I'd get a motel room. He didn't believe I'd be safe sleeping in the car or in a park, even though I had my dog with me. And it didn't matter anyway, there was no fresh air.

I checked into the motel really early with the door and windows shut to keep out the smoke. I let Andy know where I was and I also talked to my mother. The money I spent could have paid the car insurance for the month, and I felt just as claustrophobic as I would at home. But, at least I had a good shower and I had cable TV. 

 

Early in the day when I'd talked to Andy he was doing fine. He'd been playing video games, and would call to tell me good night between 9 and 10PM. My blood pressure pill was making me sleepy, and I looked forward to getting a good night's sleep for the first time in about 2 weeks. I could only take a sleeping pill every 3rd night, if I wanted them to work, and tonight was the night. 

 

Then Andy called. He said that he'd just gotten back from the emergency room. Larry had taken him, but unfortunately it was the doctor who didn't accept "mental patients" who was on call and again she refused to provide treatment. Larry couldn't stay with him because he was on duty that night. 

 

We discussed what we should do. He said the smoke had cleared, but then he smokes cigarettes. Of course, it would seem clearer to him. I made suggestions- try to find someone else to stay with him, try to get a message to Dr. Elliot or the cardiologist, etc. He kept calling me back saying he couldn't reach the people I suggested he call. But the last time he called, he said the children wanted me to stay until morning. They knew I was too sleepy to drive and possibly the smoke was still worse at home then in Santa Rosa. They asked me to come home as soon as I could the next day and when he hung-up the phone he said he was going numb again.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep well even with the sleeping pill. I tossed and turned all night. At 6AM, I took Daisy, my dog, for a walk. It was still very smoky. I took another dose of Yerba Santa, turned on the news and started getting ready. I took my time, because I didn't really want to go out in the smoke. I knew it wouldn't be better heading west towards the fires. But, as much as I wanted to stay for the day, I was concerned about Andy. And I couldn't call to check on him, because he might be sleeping. About 9AM, I headed towards home.

The smoke did get worse as I headed west. As I approached the intersection of I-25, I considered turning towards Las Vegas instead of home. I figured there was a good chance that Larry had picked up Andy after he got off work, and that Andy had been admitted to the hospital after that doctor went off duty. But there was a clearing in the smoke and I let this be a sign to head towards home. Then the smoke got bad again, until I turned into our driveway. It must have had something to do with the mesa above, but there was no smoke around our house. Andy greeted me at the door and he appeared fine. I, on the other hand, desperately needed another dose of Yerba Santa and some sleep. Thank God, I'd not rushed home any sooner through even worse smoke.

That was the worse day of the fires. After that I just stayed in the house with all the windows shut and the Hepa air filter on high. My garden didn't get watered for days, and I thought it was lost. This was upsetting as I love to garden, but it causes a lot of pain with my fibromyalgia. I had most of it turned over and half of it planted. It was very stuffy in the house when it got hot, and I'd already been cooped up inside all winter. My throat and eyes burned, and my sinus's were stuffed and infected.

The air eventually cleared and I found a few plants beginning to sprout in my garden. Andy had half-heartedly watered some while I was stuck inside. I watered more and finished planting. It took me awhile because of my health, but it did appear I'd have something for my efforts by the end of the summer.

We had a few really nice days and we managed to go to Morphy Lake State Park twice. It's a beautiful stream-fed lake near the top of the mountains. Andy loves to fish, and I love to eat trout. I don't eat fish that are caught along the Pecos River because of reports of mercury. I have serious problems with heavy metals because of my fibromyalgia and suffered excruciating headaches and debilitating fatigue until I had the mercury removed from my teeth. But I've had no problems with the fish from Morphy Lake. And the place is incredibly gorgeous! It's the only place he fishes that I enjoy going with him. I can sit on my sleeping bag and read a book, and I always manage to hike around the lake at least once.

One morning I woke to the smell of smoke at 5:30AM. I shut the windows immediately and turned on the Hepa filter, but still managed to use my inhaler twice that day. That fire was due north of us and barely mentioned on the news. I hadn't been concerned enough. But it got better again, and I found another couple of days to work in the yard. 

 

I love the warmer weather because I generally feel much better. But this summer I wasn't feeling better because I'd been unable to get the massages that helped so much. And then the heat really bothers Andy, making his muscle spasms even worse. He appeared to be doing okay, but I know he was worried. He told me he was afraid he was going to die this summer when the heat would cause him to have a massive heart attack.

Then one day, twelve towns across the state recorded record high temperatures. One of them was Las Vegas. Another big wildfire broke out that same day, and this one was near. 

 

The fire was first reported at 3PM, 40 acres burning, in the mountains, just north of Pecos. Two hours later it was 300 acres, then two hours after that it was over 1,000 and zero % contained. Andy called the Red Cross and then went to Pecos to see if he could help. When he left there was only an order for voluntary evacuation of Cow Creek Canyon. North of Pecos where there are numerous summer homes, campgrounds and summer camps nestled in the forested mountains. Andy had barely been out the door when the news reported the evacuation was now mandatory and people were expected to go the Glorietta Conference Center if they needed shelter.

Andy came home about 11PM. He, and another Red Cross volunteer from Albuquerque, had traveled back and forth between the forestry service office, the shelter in Glorietta and another temporary shelter at Pecos high school. We knew eventually the town of Pecos might have to be evacuated, but so far the fire was mostly traveling east. The people who had to leave were mostly weekend campers, hikers and fishermen and they had places where they could go. 

 

The winds had been from the southwest all afternoon and there was hardly any smoke, even though the fire was relatively near at about 35 miles. Andy suggested that I might like to see the fire, since the smoke was blowing away from us. We could see an orange sky from the nearby interstate exit. We drove down the interstate two more exits and clearly could see flames.

We discussed if I should evacuate because of my asthma. The wind was supposed to be from the southwest the next day so I didn't think it would be necessary. But the winds would die down during the night allowing the smoke to drift closer since the fire was very near, and so I wanted the windows shut. Andy agreed and seemed concerned about my asthma, but the house was almost 90 degrees and he couldn't sleep because of muscle spasms. I couldn't sleep because that's just normal for me. He ended up opening the window by the bed and I stayed awake in the kitchen, as far as I could get from the air coming from outside. 
 

I told Andy, I thought I needed to try to evacuate again, the smoke was getting too bad. The fire, spreading East from Pecos, was now due north of us. This time, to avoid me having to rush back because of his heart attacks, I thought he should go with me. He agreed. There were fires in all directions from us, except east, but the smoke was blowing that way. The TV weather report showed smoke clouds everywhere east of us for hundreds of miles. And it was too hot for him if we were to go south and try to get past the fires there. It seemed best to go just West of the still burning Cerro Grande fire and then cross north into Colorado. 

 

We packed the car and headed out. It was smoky but tolerable as we headed west on I-25. (I-25 is a north-south highway but in that area it really is going more west then south.) We had to go really far west or go real close to the Cerro Grande fire, so I said a prayer and we passed right near it. We expected clear fresh air once we got far enough north, and I figured I’d survive until then.

We finally parked the car off the road in a forest just into Colorado. The air was clear but it was very cold. I tied Daisy to the outside of the car and we reclined the seats, bundled ourselves into the sleeping bags and tried to sleep.

I was stiff from the cold, and being unable to move in such close quarters. I walked around some the next morning, stretched and suggested we try and settle there for a while. The air was clear.

But Andy wanted to move on. Surely the air would remain clear, and there’s things to see. We needed to get food, anyway.

But the air didn’t remain clear. Colorado, we found out, was on fire, too. It was Labor Day weekend and there were small fires, hundreds of them, all over. The air would clear a little, then get worse. Then clear a little, then get worse.

It was beautiful and there was much to see. But we were seeking clean air. That night we found a small private campground about 20,000 feet into the mountains. The air was clear and there was a lake. Andy wanted to fish, and it seemed like a nice place. We paid a small fortune and rented a small shed-like cabin. It had a bed built into the wall and that’s all that was in it. There was no heat and it was getting very cold. I made the bed while he went to fish.

After dark, people started building campfires in the campsites around us. I couldn’t breathe. We’d paid a fortune and I’d have to breathe a lot of smoke to repack the car. So I bundled under the sleeping bags and tried to filter the air I breathed through the blankets. I thought I’d die before morning.

Most of the campfires died out during the night and towards morning the air cleared. At the first trace of light, I was up and loading the car. I figured people would start new fires as soon as they were up and was determined to get out before they did. I hadn’t slept at all, but Andy was still sleeping. By the time he woke, I had everything but the bedding packed in the car.

We took a walk down the water, to stretch. And we chatted with another camper who was up. Then we headed out.

We ended up going all the way up and around to Denver, because there wasn’t anywhere that the air stayed clear for long. We went by the Broncos stadium and Sam had me take his picture there. We went south on I-25 and ended up going on home. By then the smoke was less near Las Vegas. We hadn’t really escaped anything, just managed to spend a fortune on gas.

We vowed to take the same trip again, when there were no fires and when it was a little warmer.

I used to get a lot of relief from writing a journal. Sometimes answers come. If nothing else, it helps to ventilate. Writing’s also been the best way for me to communicate with people, especially when emotions are high. The following is an attempt at a journal. And just in case Andy felt like listening, I left it on the computer for an evening... maybe he'd read it and maybe he'd get some idea how I felt. Of course, maybe it would just make him mad. I didn't leave it on the screen for long. Besides, he probably just saw the screen saver when he passed the computer.

May 19, 2000

“If anyone cares, to whomever:

I hate my life. I am so very, very tired of waiting for my life to happen. I am not well, and I am not young. I don't have forever, anymore.

Everyday I sit and wait. I watch TV. I cook and sometimes I clean. If the weather is right, I try to work in the yard as it is the best distraction. Yet, I feel that no one really cares and I feel I have no purpose in life. I have no friends and I have no one to whom I can talk. And I see no hope that this is going to change.

I worked so hard to get through college and really tried to make something of my life. I know I screwed up in the beginning. I understand my part in messing up those early years. But, I'd like to think I know better now. Now I just need the opportunity and some support & encouragement. If my health was good, I could do it almost without support, minimal encouragement would suffice.

Help me. Listen, if nothing else. I am in constant pain, and I need a reason to go on. There's things I can do, I know there are. I just can't sit around doing nothing but thinking of the pain. I need a hope for the future. I need to know there's a reason for my existence. And I need to know that next winter won't be worse then the last, or I won't be able to face it.

"Connie Jean”

I can't help but wonder, will it ever end!? I'm tired of the fights, the accusations, the taunting and the threats. And I'm especially tired of the excuse, it wasn't me, it was new alters. And I'm tired of being frightened all the time. I'm afraid to say anything because it might be misinterpreted. I cower in a corner because I'm just plain frightened.

My blood pressure is bad again. My doctor gave me a third pill to take for it and admitted it could make my asthma worse. But he swears I need to take it. He suggests he write a prescription for a cortisol inhaler. I wonder what he'll give me next month for the side effects of the inhaler. I tell him no way. And I'm in extreme pain because of my fibromyalgia and the fact that I haven't been able to afford a massage in months. But heaven forbid I complain about my life.

It was 6 years, this 4th of July, since Andy moved in with me. After Dr. Lewis left, Andy was supposed to be back seeing Jim at mental health in Pecos. Without telling me, he started seeing Dr. Davis instead. (Dr. Davis was the psychiatrist he’d seen at Pinion Hospital years ago. He’d seen him a couple times as out-patient and it was Dr. Davis who introduced him to Dr. Lewis.) I think he was afraid to tell me he was spending the money. When he did tell me, he said it was because he wanted to get therapy over. Jim was okay, but too inexperienced. Andy said they spent too much time just chatting. It would be harsh, but with Dr. Davis he could get it over with much, much quicker. He knew there was the chance that he could have a massive heart attack and die, or that the alters could become suicidal and kill him. It didn't matter, he had to get it over. I wonder if it occurred to him that I could break from the stress of it all and kill us both! Tempting as it was, I managed to restrain. It wasn't easy.

I thought it would soon be over, things had to get better. Dr. Lewis had said he only needed a few more sessions. Andy said his last session was coming up and it would soon be over. I really never thought any more alters could come out.

The Saturday before his last session was scheduled we had a fight. As with the last time this happened, I believed it was Andy himself, not an alter. 
 

It started because he came in from smoking a cigarette and started talking to me. He still had smoke in his lungs and I had an asthma attack. 
 

I'd been in a good mood. I was cleaning house and playing a Mammas and Papas CD while singing along. Of course I couldn't sing anymore once I couldn't take a deep breath. I said I was fed up with my life and wasn't going to take that newest blood pressure pill. His reply, "Well if you want to kill yourself!"
 

I told him it didn't matter, die of suffocation or die of a stroke. I'd rather have a stroke.

This led to threats that I'd better leave, to threats that he was going to leave, then he said the words that were the last straw, "I have someone else I'm going to be with, and she's better then you are anyway!"

I lost it. The urge to kill him then and there was about more then I could handle. The only thing that stopped me from going after him was that he was bigger and stronger. All I could think about was how much I'd given up. For six years I'd dedicated my life to helping him and doing without in the process. The stress of living with him was why my health was so bad. I'd put his priorities ahead of mine for 6 years now. But not any longer. 
 

I locked him out of the house, but he threatened to break the door down. I let him in and as soon as he was away from the door I ran out it. I was frightened. I thought he was dangerous. Then he locked me out. We screamed at each other for a while, then he told me to get in quick and get my medications and whatever I'd need to live in the car.

He said there were new alters and they were probably going to kill him, "But, hey,.. you don't care anyway!"

I insisted in talking to Grenudo. In fact, I screamed for him, something I've done a lot over the years. I was slowly packing. It was hard to make up my mind what to take. I begged to talk to Grenudo, meanwhile, or someone who I could trust- Rhonda, Dolores, Limpio or Annie. I told him I just wanted to make sure that someone was watching over him. 
 

He finally let Grenudo integrate. Grenudo said it wasn't Andy, it was 3 new alters that came out in therapy the other day.

Needless to say, there was more then one more therapy session. In August of 2000, there were 228 alters.

But Andy was almost through with therapy, or so he said. And he told me his heart muscle was healing. The doctors told him he was well enough to be home alone and I could look for work. I assumed, and he didn't correct me, that when cooler weather came he'd be able to work too. I had some money in my checking account that I hadn't logged in the ledger. It was for emergency use only. But I was confident enough that we'd make it now, so I spent it on clothes that would get me work and I went looking. 
 

The doctors told Andy he had to quit playing pool. The way he bent over the table to shoot was causing too much stress on his heart. I should have wondered, but he seemed to feel he'd be okay as long as he quit playing pool. 
 

He said he wanted to go fishing as much as he could because he wouldn't be able to go once I was working. I'd need the car for work. He started going every day and he'd take Joe and sometimes Joe's family. They'd even be gone over night or for two or three days. He'd generally leave me one day/week for my job search. I know that Joe had taken him to the ER a couple of times, as Andy'd mentioned that he got a vistaril shot. He didn't always tell me when he went. But often he'd get home at 3 or 4 in the morning, with the excuse that the shot made him too sleepy to drive and he'd taken a nap on Joe's couch. One day he'd said Demerol, instead of Vistaril. That also should have made me suspicious. He'd been refusing to take Demerol because it was addictive.

But I was too busy being lonely, feeling isolated and I was in horrible pain from my fibromyalgia. I was jealous that he had friends and I felt shut out. We argued over it several times. He told me he needed to go fishing, it got his mind off the pain. He said his friends all smoked so I couldn't go with them, he didn't want me to have an asthma attack. Besides, he said, I didn't like to fish. But I argued, what about my pain. When do I get to take care of myself?

He said he didn't want to come home because I was angry all the time. I tried to explain that I had a legitimate reason to be angry, besides he was the one with the loud angry tone of voice. I couldn't take it anymore. 
 

Finally he admitted that he hadn't been telling me the truth. He did still want me to get a job, but it would be so that I'd have something when he was gone. The doctors had told him he didn't have long to live. The heart muscle was badly torn and he only had about two months, six at the most. Fishing was the only thing he had left that he enjoyed and was still able to do. He took Joe so that he wouldn't be alone. And he hadn't told anybody.

He asked how to write a will. I told him he really didn't have that much of value and I didn't think he needed one, but he could tell me what he wanted in one. He told me who he wanted for pall bearers, which video games went to Larry and which to Joe. He said he wanted the song "When I Die" by No Mercy played at the funeral and I should say the eulogy. 
 

He said there was a surgery that they could perform but there's not much chance it would help and so he refused. I asked for details but he really had none, except that he would have to come up with $5,000 first. I asked to talk with his doctor and he said the Doctor wouldn't talk to family members, only to the patient. Finally I got the alters to say they'd talk to Andy about considering the surgery, and they'd get Andy to tell Joe and Larry the truth about his health. The next day Andy said he'd arrange for me to meet with him and the cardiologist, the next time the cardiologist was in town. 
 

He ended up seeing the cardiologist one day while he was in the emergency room. I still didn't get to talk to her. He said there was some evidence that the tear in the heart muscle had started to heal itself. He had told me there was, at best, a 10% chance it would heal itself. He continued to go fishing whenever he felt up to it and went to APA games with Joe on Thursday night, though he no longer played.

Frustrating as it was for me, I could do nothing but be there for him when he came home. I'd spent money on nice looking summer dresses to look for work, when I should have looked for the warm winter clothes that I needed and saved money for propane. The last day I went looking for work, I got a job order from the department of labor for the job that would have been perfect. I sent for transcripts from my former university and spent hours making long distance calls from DVR trying to find some reliable references that would get me the job. Then I was unable to get the application in on time because Andy was too sick. I had no idea how we'd ever afford to survive the winter months ahead. For two months now I hadn't received any of Andy's money towards the household. Then to top it off, money disappeared from my purse.

I didn't want to accuse Andy and get him upset, but I did tell him it was missing and asked him to ask the alters. Maybe one of them borrowed it and forgot to tell me.  He denied knowing anything about it. Then one night when we were in bed, and about to make love, Grenudo interrupted and announced that one of the children was there. I was very concerned to say the least. Children alters always stay upstairs when we have sex because it scares them. I asked Grenudo to take him upstairs and talk to him. Grenudo said "It's Simon". 

 

I said, "He shouldn't be here now, he'll get scared. Will he talk to me? Grenudo find out- oh Grenudo, did he take the money?"

Grenudo replied, "He won't talk to you, but he asked me to tell you he's sorry."

"Why did he take it?"

"He gave it to Laura in the billing office at the hospital. She was threatening Andy."

"Tell him I'm not mad at him. But I am mad at Laura and the hospital. Simon, I'm not mad, but next time talk to me before you do something like that. We need to talk to Leo about it, he can help us if she's threatening Andy."

Simon answered timidly, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I'm not mad. Just next time we'll talk about it first, okay?"

Andy replied, "Leo's out of town, he went to the Democratic National Convention. I'll call and find out when he'll be back and when we can meet with him."

Leo was the friend of ours that was magistrate judge. We'd both campaigned for him. If there was anything that could be done, he'd know what it was. I reminded Andy, "You know, you can give them just $5/month, and as long as you're paying them anything at all, there's nothing they can do. Don't let her intimidate you!" 
 

I knew about Laura in the billing office of the hospital. She was responsible for me spending a night in protective custody several years before. It was hell! She’d called me, making threats. I was a bit manic at the time and didn’t take it well. I went to the hospital to confront her and ended up getting arrested. The police took me for medical clearance and the nurse told me, “Tell the doctor at the jail that your blood pressure is extremely high. He’ll see you get your medication”. Turned out there wasn’t a doctor at the jail, the cops wouldn’t let me tell them what she’d said, and when Andy walked the ten miles to bring me my medication they wouldn’t let me have it. That was about the most terrifying night of my life. The chief of police was a member of the board of the Mental Health Association and a good friend. I asked for him the next morning. I believe if I hadn’t known him, I would have been there for much longer.