Tishia’s Thoughts

November 6, 2008

I’ve been emailing the elected officials to congratulate them and to tell them I look forward to working with them. Here are a few of what I’ve written and to who- do not copy these, their eyes will glaze over if they see several of the same emails. But you can use these as ideas for what to say in your own words. Take  a look.

Jay Nixon- Missouri Governor-elect

Hi, I am a deaf homebirthing mama and I wanted to congratulate you on winning the governor seat. I look forward to meeting you sometime in the spring when I make my trips to the capitol. Congratulations again.

God bless-

Tishia

Yes, this is short and sweet- his email inbox must be bombarded with a flood of emails, though. I’ll save the more detailed ones for after he’s settled in.

Chris Kostner- Missouri Attorney General elect

Hello Chris,

My name is Tishia and I wanted to congratulate you on your win of the attorney general. After you are all settled in, I would like to continue to work with the AG with things I am going through. I am deaf and we will need an interpreter. We can either meet with just us and the interpreter or we can schedule a time and location so I can get more deaf people to show up and this way you can talk to all of us about the same issue at once. I look forward to hearing from you.

Blessings-
Tishia Chambers

This one has more details because he is a newcomer, I have never had contact with him before. Do not beat around the bush, just get right to what you want to tell him. Attorney generals can be a powerful ally. Get on their good side as soon as you can, before they end up in the pockets of others. That’s unlikely, because they are to work for us, the people.

Bob Dixon- State reprenstative

Hello Representative Dixon,

My name is Tishia Chambers and I wanted to congratulate you on your win. We have met twice, once at a midwifery rally and once at a deaf town meeting. I look forward to working with you over the next year on several issues.

Okay, I will cut to the chase. have been talking to Marcia Brewer. I would like for all three of us to meet sometime soon so we can discuss the issue of equal mental health services for the deaf without any audism involved. I am available the week of November 17-21. Would you let me know if you have any available time slots within that time frame? I am deaf, so I will need an interpreter. Thanks and I will be watching for your reply.

Blessings-
Tishia Chambers

I had already met him a few times so I included that to try to jog his memory of who I am. Since we have already been working on this issue, I went ahead and asked to meet as soon as it’s realistic for him to make time. Like I did above, if you have already met any of the elected officials, refresh their memories. In my experience, they are more likely happy to talk to a constituent that they had already chatted with before. Again, this is why it’s important to introduce yourself to all the elected officials and then go to Jefferson City so they can match a face to the name they see in their email all the time.

November 5, 2008

I receive a letter from Dept. of Children Services investigating my fitness to be a mother and whether or not I am a suicide risk. I call them and try to straighten it all out. I tell them that I have been filing formal complaints against Burrell, Marian Center, DMH, and the state.

Note… none of the politicians got back to me, but DMH sure is all over me, all concerned about the safety of my children. Huh. How ironic! Just three days later, there’s an investigation open about my ability of being a parent, yet nobody else bothered to get back in touch with me except for those who are already working on the deaf issue, that being Barry Critchfield, Ella Eakins, Jeff Prail, and Marcia Brewer. That’s it. See my frustration.

Also, the caseworker at DMH said that a Ms.Winslow got wind of the case and instructed her to get an interpreter for our interview, but this means we can’t meet Friday and we will have to wait until we know when an interpreter is available. I find it very odd that they did not want to pay for an interpreter at first, then when I asked for a transcription of the interview they decided they can get an interpreter after all, burt this means I won’t have a transcription of the intreview. Hmmm…. What’s up with that?

November 2, 2008

I am contacted by DMH to meet. We will meet on Friday morning. I’m nervous and kind of insulted that she assumed that we can just write back and forth.

October 30, 2008

I got another letter from DMH (Connie Kirbey again) acknowledging she received my allegation of being turned away by Burrell and that there will be an inquiry. This made me angry. That’s it? That’s all they have to say?

That is when I decided to try some scare tactics.

I send this email to Ella, Jeff, Marcia, Barry, Todd, DMH, Philip McCleandon, and Sarah Overstreet. Note the scary  phrases I used this time.

To Whom It May Concern:

I want to thank MoAD for doing their best to be advocating for the deaf community. I am one of the many that your organization that you want to advocate for. I do appreciate all that you are doing, but it is not enough. Maybe you all do not have enough information about exactly what is happening within the deaf community, so here is my story. You may use my story as an example of what is happening to the deaf community.

I am a deaf woman with a troubled childhood and I am rejected by both the hearing community and the deaf community. This makes it extremely difficult for me to make friends so that I can talk things out when my burdens become too heavy for me to shoulder alone. This is where mental health services would come in handy for me. Only… they aren’t there.

In early May, I was at the Burrell Behavioral Center talking to them about my son who is being evaluated there and they said they knew someone who signs and called down a Marcia Brewer. She came down and interpreted and then after I had the appointments set for my son, she invited me to her office and told me that she is a counselor for the deaf and did I have anyone I was seeing? I was thrilled to find a counselor that knew sign language and I immediately became a client. I saw her only twice before she was gone. I finally started to talk about my hardships and having that abruptly stop drove me off the deep end.

I found myself lashing out at my babies in ways a mother should not. This scared me. I drove myself to the hospital and told them that I am a danger to my children and I need help immediately. The emergency room staff placed a security guard outside my door and in the morning, they sent me to the psychiatry unit, when the interpreter came in. They get me bracelets, search me, and put me into a room and then they sent the interpreter home; leaving me alone yet again. They told me to sleep and that they would have the interpreter back the next day for the psychiatrist to talk to me.  I was extremely discouraged. I thought that admitting myself would get me services, not me set on the back burner. I asked for the interpreter to stay so that I wouldn’t need to write back and forth with the nurses. No. Medicaid only covers 72 hours.

I then asked if they have any nurses on staff that knows some sign language. No, they don’t. So how will we communicate, my hands are shaking so badly I can’t really write back and forth from whatever that drug was that they gave me. Don’t worry, you will be okay. Now… the nurses all were very nice and friendly, but they treated me like a child. Being deaf does not make me of less intelligence, being deaf does not equal mentally retarded. I wanted to be able to have my communication lines open, but apparently Medicaid rules does not allow for access to full communication while an inpatient.

The next day, I talked to the psychiatrist and he said I am not crazy, but here’s lithium and invega just in case. Take these twice a day and go home. I wasn’t ready to be checked out. I still felt I could snap at any moment and I told them that as clearly as I could. I specifically said that I am concerned that I could seriously injure my babies and that is something I could never reverse. Help me prevent that. He said to just take the new drugs and I will be fine. Go home, sleep it off, and love on your babies. You’ll be fine.

I go home with my husband and I asked him to take the children to his mother’s house for the weekend just in case, as I adjust to these new drugs. I was right to ask that. The Invega had me seeing weird things and I kept on blacking out, vomiting, and screeching at my husband that I feel like I am dying, I want to die, to make it end. He calls the hospital and they scramble to get me a family doctor to see me. I was the hot potato nobody wanted to handle. A week later, I see the doctor and he immediately takes me off the Invega, but keeps me on the lithium and tells me he is only a family doctor and he is unfamiliar with the new drug, but to stay on the lithium until I get a psychiatrist. I told my new doctor that I had been calling around for years and that I ran into Ms.Brewer by chance, but that was no longer an option. The nurse comes in and says she will make it a personal mission to find me someone. A week later, she calls my husband in frustration and says she could not find anyone in the area, even as far as Joplin , that is familiar with deaf culture and would I be o.k. with using an interpreter and a counselor? I tell my husband to tell her that is okay.

A month later, I get a letter from the nurse apologizing that she could not find anyone to take me in, however, she has placed me on the waiting list at Burrell Behavioral Center and that I should continue to call around on my own. I call Burrell and ask about how long the wait is. Between 28 to 35 months. That’s nearly 3 years. No, that won’t do. I call every number in the yellow pages and I found a center that’s brand new, less than a year in existence. New Beginnings Behavioral Center. I call them and I get an appointment and then I ask for an interpreter. Er, what’s that? So I walk them through the process and they said they would figure it out.

I am now seeing a psychologist (Not a psychiatrist like I should be) weekly and he openly admits he is very unfamiliar with the unique nuances of deaf culture. For example, he had no idea that the Deaf had a way of yelling at each other (signing big) and that a hearing/deaf relationship has its own ways of being abused, such as the hearing one answering the phone on the deaf one’s behalf and then saying the deaf one is not home and then telling the deaf one it was a wrong number. I have lost many job offers that way. He says he will work with me, but he agrees I am better off with a counselor that understands the deaf culture and is able to sign with me one on one without an interpreter present.

On the topic of the interpreter, I have difficulty openly discussing things because the interpreters are the same ones at my other functions. It’s awkward for me to talk about my life when I know I will see the interpreter at such and so. The interpreters are professional and confidential, but I very much would rather it be one-on-one discussions with someone who knows how to sign. My family is counting on me to get better, but I find myself holding back. I am one of the few lucky deaf to have counseling, yes, but it still does not fit with what I need.

What do you all need in order to get things to change? It would be tragic if I hadn’t had a very attentive loving husband… because if not for that, you would have had a deaf Susan Smith or a deaf Andrea Yates on your hands- and we all do not want dead children of deaf adults…. or for a deaf adult to commit suicide…. to show the state that things need to change. It should not come to deaths to improve services for the deaf- our voices should be enough.

Would you tell me… what can you at MoAD do for me?

And I do give you permission to share my letter with whom it would have an impact upon.

Yours truly,

A deaf momma in Missouri

Carbon copied to Marcia Brewer, Barry Critchfield, and Jeff Prail; people whom I think will have pull in this kind of situation.  I, Tishia Chambers,  hereby grant permission for you to use my story as an example with those who has an influence in the decisions of mental heath services for the deaf. I only ask that my name be removed. Thank you.

October 14, 2008

I receive a letter from DMH (Connie Kirbey) acknowledging my difficulty securing counseling services. Here’s some quotes from the letter. The DMH…serves individuals with serious mental illness and is mandated to…medication… and crisis intervention. While we recognize the challenges you face, …. As a result of funding priorities, counseling services are unavailable… you can contact Allyson Ashley with your concerns… Sincerely, Connie.

So to sum it up- We know you are going through crap, but we can’t afford help you.

What do I do? I’m frustrated. How do I not give up? And how can Burrell not be able to afford to help me? Have you guys seen their financial track record? They are making big money, business is booming over there. Surely they can find a portion of the budget for Deaf services, can’t they?!

October 9, 2008

At the counselor again. I am very sad. My life went crazy because others found out I wasn’t born deaf. The counselor is trying really hard to wrap his mind around the concept of audism. He says again he knows I need a better service- he says I need to talk to a psychiatrist that understands deaf culture and sign language. He’s sorry he cannot give me what I need, but he will try his best.

October 1, 2008

I call the Southwest Independent Living Center to ask to talk to the ADA specialist. I tell them I want to file a formal complaint against Burrell for sending me away. We go through the motions of starting that.

I also email all the candidates- Kenny Hulshof, Jay Nixon, Sam Page, Bob Dixon, etc. I emailed all 11 of my options for Missouri.

I tweaked all the letters/emails to fit with what they said in their campaigning. Here’s the one I sent to Kenny Hulshof.

Hello Mister Hulshof,

My name is Tishia Chambers and I am a deaf homebirth mother married to a man with a CCW. In a nutshell, these three issues are what will sway my vote either way.

I have been perusing your website and I want to thank you for your staunch support of the Second Amendment and my husband’s right to carry a weapon when he feels the need to do so. I also see that you are pro-family and I thank you for that.

That brings me to the questions I have. I have been reading about your health care plan and I want to clarify a few things and I will pass your response along to my communities. I am a member of a grassroots midwifery movement and also of a deaf community.

This snippet especially caught my attention on your website:  Education and Prevention Focus for Local Health Departments – “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” said Ben Franklin. Kenny Hulshof believes we can avoid many problems on the back end of our health care system by focusing on better education and prevention on the front end. To do that, he will focus local health departments on creating new programs with these twin goals in mind.

Do you agree that a mother’s right to having her baby at a home with a certified midwife is a crucial component of your health plan? This option is less costly than a hospital birth and promotes immediate family bonding without the inference of medical staff. Birth is a celebration, not a medical event. A homebirth would prevent a newborn’s exposure to bacteria and viruses found in hospitals, therefore reducing the risk of illnesses common in newborn nurseries such as RSV. This would fit with your statement.
This statement would apply to my other issue. I am a deaf person and I need access to mental health services- which are nearly nonexistent for the deaf. I am concerned that the Department of Mental Health is showing audism, which is kind of like racism, only about hearing status. They are exhibiting lack of common sense by spending $539,000.00 on interpreting services alone when they could have hired about four psychiatrists that are familiar with sign language and the Deaf Culture and paying each a salary of about $40,000 in addition to travel expenses so that they can cover the whole state. This would make more sense and Barry Critchfield had that business plan ready.  Isn’t an ounce of prevention worth a pound of cure or will it take a dead deaf client to wake up the state about the need for signing counselors? Do you agree that the DMH is mismanaging the funds allotted for the deaf clients in the state?

I look forward to hearing back from you about my two questions so that I may share it with others who are wondering about the same things.

Sincerely,

Tishia Chambers

Greene County

And for the other candidates that did not have much information on their stances, I sent a more generic email/letter much like this one.

My name is Tishia Chambers and I am a deaf constituent of yours. I want to know why there isn’t any mental health service available for the deaf. Why do we have to fight to even see a counselor? Hearing clients can just call them and say they need to talk to a counselor. Why can’t the deaf clients have the same kind of access? Usually, when one calls for a counselor, they’re already in emotional turmoil. Why add to that?

Here’s my personal story. Two years ago, I tried to get a counselor. I had just gotten out of a bad marriage. I was told there isn’t available. I thought this was strange, but I moved on.

Fast forward two years, I’m in a relatively new marriage with a 1 year old and a newborn. Oh, and the 1 year old is a medically special needs child. I was overwhelmed. So I try again to find counselor services. Nothing. So I went the extreme route and admitted myself into the hospital’s psych unit for postpartum depression.  They ushered me through the system and spit me out just days later. What about ongoing services? They gave me the name of a “counselor who signs”, but it turned out she could only finger-spell.

I was furious. I call up Burrell but they said they were full, so I try the hospital again to see if they could bump me up the waiting list, but they said patients on state insurance stay on the bottom of the waiting list. I enlist the help of my nurse at the family practice. She can be bullheaded when she needs to be. She called several psychologists and psychiatrists, but was unable to secure me an appointment. Because I am deaf.

This isn’t fair. This has to change. And I am not alone. This is the story of many other deaf people in this area. I am going to fight. I am in contact with a local news reporter and a local newspaper columnist to bring awareness to the deaf community and our needs. I am going to make a bigger effort to stop by Dr. Barry Critchfield’s office in Jefferson City every time I go by there to Columbia for my son’s visits to his special doctors. I make an effort to show up at the meetings. I am a registered voter. I talked to politicians last week and I brought up the point that they don’t make it easy for us to fight.

When they asked for examples, I pointed out that any hearing person can navigate their web browser to http://www.senate.mo.gov/and click on live debate to listen in on what’s going on the floor and calling their senators at the right time to chime in that we’re his constituents and we are listening in and we want him to vote yes/no on this issue.  Deaf people are at a disadvantage over this one. I suggested that they give full access to their debates by somehow rigging it so that the transcriptions are live feed onto the web. It can’t be that hard and expensive to do. Even a simple Java chat room type pop up window would do the job beautifully and give deaf people equal access to the debates and the ability to weigh in on their opinions. They have been voting on the mental health budget every year without us… because we didn’t have a way to get our voices heard at the right times. This needs to change. Now.
What can you do about this and why should I encourage my fellow deaf constituents to vote for you as well?
Blessings-
Tishia Chambers

September 26, 2008

Back at the counselor. He tells me he’s been looking for information on how to treat and act with the deaf clients and he isn’t finding any. I suggest that he contact Barry Critchfield and Ella Eakins (MCDHH and MoAD) along with the bigwigs at DMH for advice. He said he would find those names online and look into it. Then we went on to discuss my emotional issues.

September 19, 2008

I see the counselor and he tells me right off he has NO CLUE what he is doing. I am the first deaf client he has ever had and he is very new to (pointing at interpreter) having someone talk for me. It’s a little distracting (nervous chuckle) So, what are you here for?

I fill him in.

I see… wow, oh… wow, that’s awful deaf people are shuffled around like that. Oh, you know the interpreter. Doesn’t that make things awkward? Yeah, it does, huh? Oh, almost all the deaf knows almost all the interpreters around here? Small world.

And we go on to discuss my issues and he said he would look into this whole deaf culture thing.

September 11, 2008

I call some more. I call the following and this time I add the fact that they are my last hope.

-Burrell again and I tell them that I WAS already seen there, why can’t they move me up to the top of the waiting list? Sorry, ma’am, we must do the list in the order of priority. How do you decide that? Based on their insurance first, then their condition, then their degree of mental problems.

-         I call St. Johns to ask the same- can they move me to the top of the waiting list since I was already through the Marian Center. I got a similar answer.

-         I call Ozark Center in Joplin. They have openings. When they get to the part where I give my address they say ‘oh… sorry, we can only see local clients. Why don’t you try Burrell? That’s in your city.” I said I was turned away. “Oh, really? That’s unusual. Sorry, we only take local clients.”

I get out the yellow pages and I tell my husband to keep the kids out, I’m busy. I shut the door and start calling the numbers in the psychiatrist section of the yellow pages.

-         Dr.Tomelleri – Hi, sure, sure, what’s your name? and your number? No, not your phone number. Ma’am, I am a psychiatrist for the federal prisoner system. Oh… then thanks anyways, bye.

-         Dr.Brown- Hi, sure, who have you been seeing at Burrell? Oh, I’m sorry Ma’am, I’m a transistionary counseling service. Oh, that means I see those who are no longer going to Burrell. Well, yes, I understand you are no longer seen there, but that’s not what I mean. Yes, I’m sorry, why don’t you try Burrell Center again? Oh, they did? I see. I’m sorry ma’am. Bye.

-         Dr. Rice, Hello, …, rice, and …., may I help you? Yes, we are. What’s your child’s date of birth? Oh, you? No, we do not see adults ma’am. Yes, this is a children’s psycharisty service. Yes, have a nice day. Bye.

-         Dr.Lutz- Hi. What’s your student ID? (huh?) Student ID? Are you a psychology major? Oh, oh no, I’m not a practice; I am a professor of psychology. I was in the yellow pages? That’s odd, thank you for bringing that to my attention. What’s that? Oh, no, I don’t. No, none of my students counsel yet. Yes, ok, have a nice day, bye.

-         Dr. Burton- Hi, this is Mallorie, how can I help you? Oh, Dr.Burton isn’t taking any new clients, but wait, wait, our resident psychologist is. Oh um..  the difference? Well, the same, only psychologists can’t give you drugs. Ok, you want an appointment? Ok, let’s see.. How about tomorrow? What’s that? No, I never heard of interpreters. Oh, we do? Ok, I’ll figure it out. Wait, ma’am, I can’t do tomorrow, how about next Friday? Ok, ok, great, that gives me time to find um, an interpreter. You will be seeing Dr.Groves, yes, see you next Friday.

YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

All of my time on the phone paid off! I have a counselor!

September 13, 2008

I go to the Deaf Town meeting and I am able to network with others and put faces to names, such as Sarah Overstreet, Barry Critchfield, Bob Dixon, etc. I talk to them all and I tell them what THEY can do for me. I told Sara Lampe that the state does not make their

September 10, 2008

I drop to my knees and pray nearly the whole day.

September 9, 2008

I get a letter from Nurse Kendra… I’ll summarize it.

- St.John’s psych has waiting list of 12+mo and they schule contracted St.Johns health plan patients before self-pay and Medicaid patients. I placed you on the waiting list anyways.

- Contacted Dr.Wang and they no longer accept disabled Medicaid.

- Contacted Dr.Dobbard in Mt.Vernon and stated they do not take patients requiring interpreter services.

- Contacted Burrell and they do not accept any more psychiatrist patients at this time.

- Contacte Lakeland and they no longer accept adult patients.

This is all I can do given the rules I am working under, but do not stop calling around. Keep us posted on everyone you call and contact us for another appointment in two months if you have not been successful in securing a psychiatrist and we can discuss other options.

September 3, 2008

I fire off emails to Barry Critchfield, Marcia Brewer, Sarah Overstreet, Angie Weindeiger, and Ella E. I also sent it to Phil McClendon, Bob Dixon and Jay Nixon. This is the email I sent.
Someone said that I should tell you about what I have been through and that it would help get things going on your end per mental health services of equal opportunity for the deaf. So… here goes. This isn’t easy for me to say.

Um… a few weeks ago, I started having a psychotic breakdown and my very concerned husband took me to the hospital; where I was admitted to the Marian Center and they started me on drugs and sent me home. Now they won’t see me or refill my medicine or tell me where to go. I asked them to at least refill my antipsychotic medicine and they said only psychiatrists can do that. The hospital said I have postpartum psychosis and that I need to be seen by a psychiatrist. Gee, thank you very much, now get me one! I’m confused and frustrated. My family doctor won’t refill these because he isn’t a mental health provider and isn’t sure how these works. I am glad my doctor was so honest that he doesn’t know about this stuff, but it also leaves me hanging. You would think that if they are so concerned, they would try harder to set me up with someone. Anyone.

After two weeks of harassing them, the Marian Center finally sent me to Ozark Counseling Center, which was a disaster. Firstly, Lisa, the counselor, lied about her ability to interpret and sign and she tried to charge me $88 a session. I refused on the grounds that most of it was spent gesturing and finger spelling. Secondly, she didn’t let me get a word in. I was trying to tell her why I was there but she was looking over the files sent to her and said no wonder I went nuts, that she would have had too if she had a son with seizures and a baby girl refusing to nurse. I think she was trying to play the “I’m so understanding” card, but I actually am fine with the fact my son is unique and that my daughter is showing tendencies of strongwilledness. I welcome them. I tried to steer the writing back and forth discussion towards my real issues- my past and the memories of burying my other daughter. She abruptly ended the discussion and then she sent me a letter saying she won’t see me, but here, try this agency instead.  So Michael tries calling them to get me scheduled in. They won’t see a deaf client and we tried to say this is discrimination, but they claim it’s because I am now on anti-psychosis, therefore, not allowed to see me.(The Kitchen clinic) Bull! My husband is going to keep trying, but we’re losing hope. I need to see some for the safety of my children. When I have a breakdown, I am a danger to my family. I reached out for help which was hard in the first place only to discover there’s nothing there. I feel like I should’ve just kept it quiet and suck it up and just let life push me along. My family doctor is still working on getting Marian Center to see me on a regular basis. He’s starting to appreciate the complicated position I am finding myself in. He said that he would go ahead and refill just the lithium because he understands the idea, but not the other medicines.

So… yeah, I feel like I’m a hot potato being tossed around.

Blessings-
Tishia Chambers

August 15, 2008

It’s my pap exam day and bloodwork check up, etc. While I am there, we talk about the counseling search. She says she now sees why I went the extreme route of admitting myself into the Marian Center. There’s nothing and there’s even a center in Mount Vernon that is supposed to take anyone, but when I got to the part about how this client is deaf and needs an interpreter, they told her there wasn’t any availability when just a moment ago they had told her there were opening. She was hopping furious on my behalf and now more understanding of what I’ve had to put up with. She said she would keep trying for two more weeks and then that’s all the time she is allowed to invest into one case. I thanked her for trying.

August 1, 2008

Nurse Kendra calls my husband out of frustration- she cannot find any counselors that works with the deaf. Would he ask me if it is okay for her to work on finding a regular counselor and use a sign language translator?

I tell him to tell her to just do her best.

June 17, 2008

I meet with my new family doctor. We talk about my situation and he and the nurse say they will get me a referral, no problem. They scheduled me for a pap exam and well being exam for the following month. I am encouraged. I have a doctor and a nurse working with me, for me, to get me counseling. He also said it is okay to quit the Invega, but stay on the lithium until a psychiatrist sees me.

July 15, 2008

I meet with the so-called signing counselor at the OCC. Uh… this woman could barely fingerspell. I was disgusted with the way they thought this was good enough and insulted by that. I gave them a piece of my mind… and they didn’t understand a word. That’s my point. Counseling is about venting and working through feelings. If they can’t understand what I just said, they should not falsely advertise themselves as deaf-friendly.

July 14, 2008

We all watch the news… and…. Nothing? I contact them again to see why it didn’t run. Schaible squashed it. I was flipping furious! That night, I fired off an email to Todd Schaible and allyson Ashley.

July 13, 2008

I find out that the story about Marcia’s absence from Burrell Center will run tomorrow night. I excitedly send out notices to watch the news tomorrow.

July 12, 2008

I don’t like the way I feel. I feel weird, sick, shaky. I tell the doctor that. He said it will take time to get used to the medicines. Give it a chance. He then talked to me and my husband about coping techniques and then he discharged me. I was not ready to go. I wanted help and this is the help I get?! What? This isn’t good enough. I am now a hot potato that nobody wants. Well, on the bright side, I will not miss my son’s birthday.  They schedule me to see someone at the Ozark Counseling Center instead, saying she signs.

July 11, 2008

It is now morning and I am thrilled to see the interpreter back. I start talking, asking questions and where is my bra, can I have it back, what about my shoes? When’s lunch? When will I talk to a counselor? I was full of questions. First things first. They let me have all my clothes back and I got dressed. Then I went to group meeting and listened to others talk about seeing her brother commit suicide, and another man about wanting to kill himself because he walked in on his girlfriend and bestfriend in the bed he built himself and I listened to them discuss all of this. I had nothing to say, nothing to add. They wouldn’t understand my situation. So I kept quiet. We broke for lunch and the interpreter left to go get some lunch herself. Then the interpreter came back to my room and we met with the psychologist and he said he noticed I was quiet. I tell him about why I am there. I need help. He says he wishes he could be an ongoing help, but insurance mandates I be in there only 72 hours. Even if I am a risk to myself? You look fine to me. Do I need to pretend that I am to get counseling? Well, I do not recommend that because you could lose your children if you are indeed fine. So what do I do? He didn’t have an answer for that. He did start me on lithium and invega to stabilize my mood swings and he called in a favor to get me a family doctor- a doctor with the Elfindale Family Practice. He said I can ask my new family doctor to secure me a referral to a psychiatrist. We will talk some more in the morning after I see how you adjust to these.

July 10, 2008

It is now past midnight and the ER staff sent my husband and my children home. I request time to cuddle with all of them and say our goodbyes. They leave at 1 a.m. and the interpreter, which I knew personally, and I chat to pass the time. There is a security officer standing guard outside my door and there is a camera in the room. I am on suicide watch. Finally a nurse comes and tells me they are going to move me to the Marian Center in a few hours. The interpreter and I chat some more. The nurse brings me a tray of breakfast and I realize I’ve been awake through the night and so has the interpreter. I ask how much longer? She doesn’t know. I eat and I realize I was starving. I lay down and go to sleep. The interpreter dozes in her chair. At 8 a.m. I’m finally moved to Marian Center and the interpreter comes. They search me for anything I might hurt myself or others with, take my bra away because it’s a strangulation risk and I am embarrassed because now I have two wet spots on the front of my shirt from my breastmilk. The nurse realizes that and says she will ask the other nurse to clear me of my suicide watch so I can have my bra back ASAP. I walk down the hall in the hospital flipflops to my room and I sit on the bed. The nurse says to the interpreter that she may go home and motions for me to lay down, we’ll talk tomorrow. Wait, what? What if I need to ask for something. You and I can write back and forth. Look at my hands, I am shaking badly, how can I write back and forth? “We’ll manage.” And the interpreter reluctantly left. I lay down. And slept. Woke up to use the restroom, and slept some more. Come dinnertime, they had me go to the dinette and I ate. Then I went to bed and I didn’t sleep well with the nurse shining a flashlight into my face every 30 minutes.

July 9, 2008

I get angry and almost hurt my son. I am scared and I said I should go get help, whatever it takes. We decide to go to the hospital and have me admitted into the mental center for a breakdown. I go to the hospital. They have me languishing in the emergency room while they find an interpreter to come in. They finally get one in at about 10 p.m., 6 hours later. This is normal, though.

Second week of July

I start to snap. I am irritable. I lash out at my husband and my children. Everyone’s tiptoeing on eggshells around me.

The first week of July

I am very down. I don’t do much. No motivation.

June 30, 2008

I hit the phones again.

-         Family Institute of the Ozarks (for Medicaid clients, they see only local ones)

-         Forest Institute (They’re a volunteer non-profit center, they can’t afford the disabled Medicaid clients, but they did not say directly it was because of the interpreter fees)

-         Greater Ozarks Counseling Center (No new Medicaid clients)

I was very discouraged because I had two to go.

June 27, 2008

I called the following with the same discouraging results.

-         Thomas Blansett

-         Rose Buckner (sweet lady answered, wrong kind- they do addictions.)

-         Burrell again- may as well try. They confirmed I am still on waiting list.

-         Center for Psychological well-being (they only see local clients)

-         Center of Change (No medicaid allowed)

-         Eaglecrest Counseling Center (full)

And that’s all the time I had that day.

June 26, 2008

I call the following with similar results- sorry we aren’t taking new clients or sorry, we don’t take Medicaid or sorry, we don’t understand interpreting services.

-         Steven Adams

-         Affinity Counseling

-         Applied Psychological Center ßVERY RUDE

-         Alan Aram

-         Joan Bender

-         Besuda Psychological Center

And that’s all the time I had to call today, with juggling two breastfed babies.

June 25, 2008

I receive the packet of eligible providers in Southwest Missouri. I will get to work calling them all tomorrow.

June 19, 2008

I decide my husband is right. Let’s get to work. I call DMH to ask them who I can see. They ask me about what insurance I am on. (Medicaid) Okay, which medicaid? “Medicaid +” Ok, what area? I am willing to drive up to 50 miles away from Springfield. Ok, I will mail you a packet of the eligible psychologists and psychiatrists in your area, watch for it.

June 17, 2008

I am very depressed. I don’t get out of bed. Today is my preemie daughter’s birthday. I now have a new daughter. Will my daughter die too, just like all of my other daughters? All my other daughters died in the month of June. I am terrified to be alone with my daughter, what if I don’t hear her stop breathing? What if I don’t hear her choking on something? What if. What if. What if. I drove myself insane with all the thoughts and worries. My husband is concerned and he says he thinks I need to try harder to get the help I need. I don’t care. Whatever. Go away.

June 9, 2008

I call Jordan Valley Clinic to check on the status of my waiting list. There’s still 10 to 16 months to go. What? That long? But I was on the list since 2006. Oh, two years is not that long, the average wait is 4 to 6 years for those on disabled Medicaid. I ask what I can do to get moved up the list. If I get a chronic illness. I get angry and ask her if the doctors isn’t seeing me, how will they know that I have that or not? She didn’t know what to tell me and we hung up.

June 6, 2008

I decide that I can call Burrell to ask about seeing a psychiatrist with an interpreter. Anything is better than nothing. They say that I need a referral from my doctor. I tell them I do not have a family doctor, I am on the waiting list at Jordan Valley Clinic. Sorry, can’t help you then. Contact us again when you have a referral to a psychiatrist.

May 22, 2008

I walk into her office and immediately notice that it is barebones. Marcia asks me if I see anything different about her office. I said yes, I do, that a lot of her things are gone, is she renovating? She sadly shakes her head and says she is leaving. I ask why? She said she can’t tell me the reason yet, but it boils down to her not liking how her boss is treating the deaf community. I give her my paper anyways. Now that I wrote it, I want it read. She takes it and reads it and she has tears rolling down her cheeks. She looks at me and says “I am so sorry that I have to leave you hanging like this.” I am upset. I said I let myself feel my past. How do I ignore it now? It’s like an overstuffed closet. Once you open it just a crack, everything will come tumbling out and you can’t just stuff it all back in the closet without going through the things first. Now I am feeling my past. I need a support system. Anything. Don’t leave me hanging like this. She sadly says that it has to be done. I numbly walk out of the building and I rest my forehead on the steering wheel, wondering what to do next.

May 14, 2008

We start talking about how it’s not healthy that I ignore my emotions. I told her that’s how I survive. I ignore myself. If not for that, I wouldn’t be here. That and God. She said this needs to be changed. She used an analogy of the beach ball. My emotions is a beach ball and I am struggling to push that beach ball underwater and keeping it submerged. Eventually, the beach ball will pop up out of the water when I get too tired to keep it underwater. We start talking a little bit about why I have to lock my feelings away to protect myself. I have homework- it’s to share details of the big events in my past that I need to process and recover from.

May 7, 2008

Marcia Brewer and I introduce ourselves to each other. I learn that she has children and one of her daughters also used a midwife like I had; only mine was born at home. I skim over the fact I had a difficult childhood with nobody to talk to and the ones that knew sign were also the ones that said to be quiet about it. She said that is very common and that next week we would talk about how it is affecting me. She then turned to talk to my husband, whom I had dragged along so he could tell her what is affecting me. I knew he could say it better than I could. We scheduled our next one for May 14^th.

April 30, 2008

I was at the Burrell Behavioral Center to inquire why they were taking so long to schedule the evaluation for my son to test for developmental delays and cognitive delays. They were confused by my gesturing so they said they knew someone in the building that knows sign language and that is when they called Marcia Brewer down. We get everything set up and she invited me to her office. There, Marcia officially introduced herself as a counselor for the deaf and did I already have anyone I was seeing. I was excited and I told her that I had given up on finding one. We made an appointment for Wednesday, May 7^th, 2008; a week after that day.

Summarization of why I need mental health services:

During my childhood, I endured abuse and molestation by multiple people and when I tried to tell on them, I was rebuffed for telling stories and to be quiet about it. I made terrible choices as I got older trying to fill that hole in my heart, trying to heal my hurts in the only ways I was taught to. As a result these same choices earned me a not so wonderful reputation in school and in the community. I am also deaf who was mainstreamed. My hearing peers rejected me because of my inability to lipread and there weren’t any deaf peers in the community back then because they all were shipped off to the state Deaf school. I married very young because he wanted me to himself and I thought “hey! Someone wants me! Ok, I’ll marry you!” This turned out to be yet another tragic mistake and I barely got out of the marriage alive. A few years after that, I married another man and he is wonderful to me. My life was going very good, but I kept on waiting for something to fall apart. It did. We discovered my son has epilepsy and I blame myself. I jinxed it by not taking it for granted my life is really better. I was overwhelmed by learning all these strange new words so I can take care of my son and having another child on the way. So it boils down to the fact that I am a deaf person with a lot of emotional baggage from my bad experiences, rejected by both the hearing and deaf communities, and a mother of a special needs child whose sister is just 17 months younger and an older brother he may never get to meet. I had a lot on my plate.