On the Street

I told the doctor in Denver that Shayne wasn’t ready to be released, but he was sent home anyway.  On Friday, Shayne walked out of the house wearing a baseball shirt inside out, shorts, and a red terry cloth bathrobe.  Darian and I told him not to go, but he said he couldn’t stay.

He has disappeared before.  Once he jumped out of the car at a stoplight because he thought I was kidnapping him.  Another time he ran away from me in Pueblo because he didn’t want to go to the hospital.  A lot of time he leaves because he doesn’t want to do something I want him to do–like he doesn’t want to see a counselor, or take his medicine, or else I catch him smoking pot.  Pot might be legal, but it reacts badly with his medicine and makes his symptoms worse.  Usually when he leaves, there is a period when I am happy to see him go.  His behavior can be exhausting and frustrating.  My anger doesn’t last long.  And I start to wonder where he is and if he is okay.  A week of that and I might as well be crazy too.

In the beginning days of this illness, I would look for him.  I would put up flyers.  I’d post it on Facebook.  I’d spend all day combing places he might be.  I wouldn’t sleep.  After a year of several disappearances, I decided that when Shayne left, I wasn’t going to look for him. He can survive on the streets, but he doesn’t do it well.  Usually, he is in some phase of psychosis that makes him suspicious of others.  He won’t seek out help, instead he will hide out alone.  He might decide to walk to another city because he’s meeting someone there, like Steven King maybe.  He eats by walking into lobbies of motels and eating the fruit and cookies put out for guests, or the free continental breakfasts.  Sometimes he steals a sandwich from Walmart.  To date, he always comes home, eventually.  When he does turn up, he is dirty, hungry, dehydrated, and sunburned.  And usually ready for help.

Today, Darian and I went to the grocery store for some milk.  On the way home, I asked Darian to turn into a neighborhood that is off our usual route.  It’s a neighborhood that I used to ride my bike through when I was a kid and I’ve always liked it.  She drove through it and missed the exit I wanted her to take and took the next.  Shayne was walking down the sidewalk.  Darian pulled over and I told Shayne to get in the car.  He did.  He looked okay.  Not too sunburned.  He wasn’t wearing his robe anymore.  He said he lost it.  He probably abandoned it somewhere.  He told me that he’d been taking his meds.  I’d been thinking he could take all the meds at once, and end it all.  Or maybe throw the pills in the river.  Both are real possibilities.

When we got home, I asked him if he wanted me to cook him something and he said that he was okay and he took a shower and went to bed.  He is still sleeping.  I am not sure what comes next.  Maybe I should take a nap too, because honestly, I am emotionally drained.  I feel like I should be coming up with a game plan, but I’m out of ideas.  I’d like some help, but I don’t even know what to ask for anymore.