[Read time: 4:30]
Leah and I joked that update 5 would be a whopper. The first development since update 4 was one part telling another part to head for a third-story window in her therapist’s office building.
I was texting with him in real-time while on FaceTime with “her.” He said, “She’s not here yet,” meaning she hadn’t arrived at his office yet. I replied that she was in the building trying to get out of a window—and I caught a glimpse of a straight razor. The therapist got there in time and pulled “Leah” off the window sill. This could have gone badly.
Later that day, she swung by my place for a visit. She was in a bad way, quite depressed, and crying on and off. At one point she was talking to her therapist on FaceTime; I was in class online. When class was over I went over by Leah to join in the conversation. Leah poured a bottle of pills onto her sketch pad, and I commented, “I don’t think the label says to take twenty of those.”
So, the therapist and I made efforts to get her to not swallow the bottle. I told her, “If you swallow those, I will call 911, and the ambulance will take you to the ER. And then guess where you’re going when they’re done with you??” She then looked as if she was putting the bottle to her lips, and I grabbed it. I guess in the clinical world they call this an “interventive gesture.” I, with the help of a friend, drove Leah to a mental-health facility that night. She was okay when I left. Sad, but okay.
At this facility, her psychiatrist has made a number of alterations to her med regiment. Leah also got to “ride the lightning.” This is electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), where brief electric pulses trigger a seizure in hopes of improving her depression and suicidal ideation. I hope this awful treatment produces positive effects. She is early in the treatment, but there is already temporary short-term memory loss—though she passed my memory quizzes with flying colors. It remains to be seen whether this treatment will continue.
There is talk of another residential facility, one that looks more promising than the last. I am in favor of her trying this. She does not want to be gone and so far from family. But I think it’s the best play—as does her therapist and psychiatrist.
In all these “updates,” I haven’t really told you about Leah the person. At her core is kindness. Her sense of justice and her moral compass are precise. She is very intelligent; I suspect that IQ of hers is substantial. But her intellectual intelligence is also noteworthy. She reads constantly and at an impressive speed.
In addition to the reading list I was tasked with supplying her, she recently asked for one that is specifically about philosophy. Some are the works of great thinkers, some are books about those thinkers. Here’s the list:
1. Plato, The Apology (see my essay)
2. Plato, The Republic (Grube trans.)
3. Descartes, Meditations (see my essay)
4. Stewart, The Courtier and the Heretic
5. Locke, Second Treatise of Government
6. Rasmussen, The Infidel and the Professor
7. Marx, The Communist Manifesto
8. Nietzsche, Genealogy of Morals (after Solomon-Higgins)
9. Heidegger, “The Question Concerning Technology” (we’ll do this one together)
10. Sartre, Existentialism is a Humanism (see my essay)
She is currently devouring the first list. She has developed a special fondness for Noam Chomsky and Epictetus. Is this what it’s like to be a proud father? Given our ages, Leah could feasibly be my daughter. I ran this by her once, to which she replied, “That’s gross.”
As far as personality, for some reason, the stand-up comic Jordan Jensen reminds me of her a lot. When I watch Jensen, I big-time get a Leah vibe.
Also, she is the most perceptive person I have ever met in my life. She notes body language and tone of voice like no one I have ever met. She can read people, detect lies, detect people hiding things—it’s astounding. If there is such a thing as a perception genius, that is Leah.
All in all, she is an extraordinary person. When one takes into account the suffering and agony she has endured, to hear other people complain about their problems is difficult to listen to. And people, usually men, who talk tough?? They are not. They are weak and insecure, and they are trying to cover up an exposed nerve. Pathetic. Leah is tough, and I don’t know anyone who could have survived what she survived.
That all said, I just like her. We laugh a lot; she is quite funny and playful. As mentioned, we bicker constantly. More than someone whom I look after, Leah has become a dear friend. I love her intensely. I have never felt this way about another person.
But with her list of mental health issues and my physical limitations, we make quite a pair. But I would not trade what we have, in all our rack and ruin, for anything in the world.
A NOTE TO LEAH:
You frequently get down on yourself and refer to your perceived failures; you talk of letting people down, you talk of fucking up. None of this is true. You have let zero people down, especially in light of the person you are, the person you are becoming, and your strength. The fact that a person could endure what you have and not complain, whine, or bitch like so many people do is nothing short of astounding. I personally delight in how you—without knowing it—embarrass so many people. You make a multitude look ridiculous. I love that about you. I am proud of you and I love you.
Real quick:
I called Leah one day, and she answered the call in the following way: “Hey, you big-headed butt face.” And now I say those nice things?? Can you believe that?? Inconceivable!
[Photo: This is me helping Leah check in to a mental-health facility a couple weeks back. The discerning viewer will note that on the flat-screen television is National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.]
