THINGS
REMEMBERED:
An Unexpected
Journey of Discovery
Forward
Today was my
appointment to see my Neurologist. Surprised I was not given the
option of doing the appointment in Austin by “telehealth,” I went
in. The focus of the appointment was on my essential tremor which
over time gets worse. It is not Parkinson's but may look like it to
the undiscerning eye. Family can bless, and family can curse.
Essential tremor has a history in my family. Dr Erik Krouse said that
focusing on the tremor might be a little difficult if we did it by
video.
During the
course of the appointment, I mentioned the struggle with depression I
was having and working with my primary care provider on getting off
one medication and increasing the dosage of another. In that
conversation, he mentioned suicide and wondered if during this
sheltering in place the rate would go up. I reflected to him I was
constantly reading but saw no spikes at this point in suicides. We
moved on to talk about suicidal outcries in the Texas prison system,
and after sharing some of my experiences, he repeated something he
said previously “ You should write a book”. Perhaps being at a
different place in my life from a previous visit, I seriously
considered his counsel. It is from that fleeting conversation I have
decided to move forward on telling a story about a journey I made
reluctantly, but the results of my journey profoundly shaped
everything that has come after.
There is a part
of me that thrives on adventure—to a point. Anna and I have shared
adventures around the world. We have been to Scandinavia(Norway),
Great Britain, ate breakfast at the Dublin, Ireland airport, enjoyed
South America in Ecuador, several trips to Brazil, and East Asia
including Taiwan, Thailand, three cities in China, and alone to South
Africa. Together we made our way to Eastern Europe stopping in
Greece, Macedonia, Vienna, Budapest, Slovakia and Germany on several
different occasions. And we have been to Prague. If you have ever
been to Prague, you understand. I am adventuresome trying foods which
ingredients I can recognize. Not so much with things which are
unrecognizable.
Having said
that, there is a deep, deep part of me which likes routine, sameness,
and schedules. My day in years past has been preferred to be
predicable, familiar, and without high drama. Saying that does not
mean I have escaped high drama, however, if I was scheduling my day,
I would plan for the predicable.
So imagine my
surprise when being comfortably settled in an Abilene church for 15+
years, our world was turned upside down. Previous to this year of
2008, Anna had received her Master's in counseling, and I joined her
in that pursuit. I finished a little ahead of her only because I
started a little before she did. She was the greatest student and to
this day, I stand in awe of her counseling, empathy, and skill.
What was it
that changed everything? Anna's sister is the only surviving sibling
she has. Injured in a wreck on her way to work, her knee would not
heal and on her shoulders rested the total responsibility of the care
of their parents. It was Sandy's choice. As long as she could, she
would keep them at home. Her step dad's health failed and he passed
away, Sandy is as amazing as Anna, but the wreck, the crippling load
of trying to maintain two homes, and cook for her mom was getting to
be too much. Add to that, Bonnie had been diagnosed with a stroke and
dementia. The stroke was the surprise, the dementia had been long
coming absent a diagnosis. We went down to Livingston a couple of
times after the wreck and did what we could, but Sandy needed more
and Bonnie needed more.
Having pastored
for 33 years at that point, I knew the ways of Baptist life and
Baptist churches. One does not jump and be called to a Texas Baptist
church because there are few in deep East Texas. So, I reached out to
a friend I knew was in Huntsville because we had gone through the
same counseling program and I had tried to keep up with him. He was
working for UTMB(University of Texas Medical Branch) in their
Correctional Managed Care. I asked if there were jobs available and
he pointed me to the website for the work, I went in and found out
they were looking for a Manager for the Mental Health Department for
the maximum security prison housed at Livingston. Truthfully, I had
no idea what that meant. Mental Health care in Texas is poor and the
prisons often offer the best hope for those with severe mental
illnesses. When I speak of severe mental illnesses, I am talking
about the diagnoses of Schizophrenia, severe bipolar, delusional, and
psychotic patients. Depression and anxiety are a “walk in the park”
next to these severe mental health conditions. Some come to this
place because they have used illegal substances, but some come
because there is history in the family. More than that are the
personality disorders which are often found in Texas prisons.
Antisocial personality disorder is a no-brainer. The definition is a
“pervasive profound disregard of the rights of others.” Go
figure. 80% of offenders in the United States would qualify for this
personality disorder.
So I applied. I
actually got an interview when my friend noted the need for clinician
vacancies might be a good first step. His suggestion was wise—start
with that and work my way up. Unfortunately, I had already been
granted an interview and apparently I possessed the three qualities
they were looking for: stupidity, naivety, and experience with
dysfunctional systems. I got the job. Following the interview I was
told I would hear from the committee by the following Friday. On
Monday, the Senior Mental Health Manager called and told me I had the
job. That call literally changed my life.
To be candid,
law breakers are not high on my list on which to show compassion. My
brother was in law enforcement, my son is in law enforcement, and I
must confess that going to the jail to visit offenders was not on my
list. I hated it actually. Then I came to Crescent Heights Baptist
Church and there was a deacon who loved jail ministry. He dragged me
along. I hated every minute of it. I hated the asking for prayer
requests, I hated being there, and I hated not being able to say to
the jail inmates, “if you were not so stupid, you would not be here
breaking your mother's/grandmother's heart. Yep, I was cold hearted.
That I think would cost me dearly.
You may ask,
“What do you mean?” Honestly, I believe God is troubled by the
cold hardheartedness of His people when we refuse to care about those
who struggle in life. I was one of those. My compassion was
selective. All my years of ministry did not help me see this beam in
my eye.
So, Anna and I
quickly adjusted our life plan, put the house up for sale, retired
from the ministry and the church, and headed to Livingston to be
there for Anna's mother and sister who had born so much grief in this
life. For years, I had been the “point person” for my mom because
my schedule was more flexible than my brothers, but in an unexpected
move, Mom moved to San Angelo, and Jim and his family willingly
changed roles. They were and are awesome. I was then free to focus on
Anna's family and their needs. I could never forget how that Anna
went to be with my mom for a month when the boys were young and her
mother came to help me with them. She took my place, and Bonnie took
her place. Those are deep connections one does not easily forget.
One does not
just start with UTMB Correctional Managed Care. Instead you must be
sent to Hell for a week of training. I say “Hell” because as a
foreshadowing of things to come CMC does most of its meetings in
incarcerated setting. More than that, a specialist in “onboarding”
new employees gathers all the nurses, MH clinicians, doctors, and
mid-levels in an extremely uncomfortable meeting area for 40 hours of
mind numbing information to get one ready for the “work.”
All of that was
just the beginning of the journey.
My first day at
“work.” I went in early. I just wanted to get a feel for the
setting. It must have been the second locked gate I passed through
that brought me to the reality “I wasn't in Kansas anymore.” All
I knew, or thought I knew would be challenged and sifted as I had to
decide who I really was at the core of my being and what I was about.
It was a trans-formative experience. More than that, I thank God for that time.
I hope you will share the wonder I experienced beyond the shell of
the local church.
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