My daughter has been on medical leave from her job for three months. Her unemployment insurance runs out on July 26th and she will has to return back to work. She has an appointment on Wednesday to see her doctor where he will determine if she is well enough to return.
I personally don’t think she is as the stretches between “events” haven’t changed much.
She’s been going to therapy, but does not always take her medication and her mood from wanting help to not wanting help shifts.
Anyhow, late last night the phone rang and it was my daughter. She was upset, frantic about how she didn’t want to return to work.
Within an hour she was calling back. She said that she couldn’t sleep. Then the words came out of her mouth. “I thought if I did something to myself I wouldn’t have to return to work.”
I was so frantic, I kept asking her what she had done. Her boyfriend was in the background, telling her to tell me.
She just kept saying that she had done nothing.
I asked her to put her boyfriend on the phone. He came on and told me that she said that she has taken some pills. Five pills to be exact. She hadn’t taken enough to do any harm, just enough for us to worry and maybe get the attention from the doctor that she was hoping for.
I had asked her b/f if he called an ambulance, but he hadn’t. My daughter had just taken pills and he had not bothered to call an ambulance. His reason being that he did not know if she did or not. (He is an idiot, but I’ll save my opinion of him for another post.)
So, I phoned an ambulance and quickly got myself over to her apartment.
When the ambulance attendants arrived she gave them attitude. She wasn’t going to the hospital, but the ambulance attendants did not leave her with many options.
It wasn’t long before, I found myself sitting in an emergency room waiting for my daughter to be seen by the on-call doctor.
I was upset, worried and angry. I was angry at her boyfriend. I was angry at my daughter. The setting was all to familiar to me. I had been in this very spot two months ago.
I know my daughter had not done this to kill herself. It was another cry for attention that is all too common for the BPD.
All she had to do was wait until Wednesday to see her family doctor and tell him she was not ready to return to work.
We sat at the hospital in the waiting room for 4 hours, while my daughter attempted to keep the black charcoal substance that they made her drink down.
At 5 am, she was released from hospital. We dropped her off at her apartment.
She was suppose to call me today when she woke up, but instead she got up and went to the mall like nothing happened.
No phone call from her to let me know she was ok. This is the inconsiderate behavior that I have grown accustom to. I’m angry at her, though I know this isn’t her, but the disorder.
My daughter is sick. Sometimes I have to remind myself of that.
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