Chair's Corner (D.Price)

Elizabeth was 14 when I first met her.  She was just like every other teenager:  interested in music, fashion, and in Elizabeth’s case, quite an accomplished artist.  Her mother was the one who first alerted me to the fact that there might be something wrong.  Elizabeth was becoming withdrawn.  Previously, a vivacious, talkative child, she was tending to spend more time in her bedroom alone.  Everyone wanted to normalize this and say that it was just her teenage years but her dress, personal hygiene and behaviour were not what they used to be.  Her mother worked with my mother as a nurse and I used to hear sometimes secondhand about the trauma that Elizabeth was causing her family.
 
First we thought it was depression and then we wondered about a bi‐polar illness and finally, after the first psychotic break, it was clear that Elizabeth actually had schizophrenia.  Oh, what a battle it was. The demons raged inside her, colouring her perception of the world.  She had hallucinations, delusions, all of the classic symptoms of schizophrenia.  There were some anti‐psychotic drugs in those days; not as good as the ones we have now, but still somewhat effective.  These stabilized Elizabeth’s behaviour, her mood, and she even was able to, by the time she was 17, start to work part‐time in a bakery.  The baker, God bless him, was very accommodating to her comings and goings and would tolerate her not showing up one day, showing up late the next etc., depending on her degree of illness. Nonetheless, this job was excellent for Elizabeth’s self‐esteem.  It gave her a sense of self‐worth.  It also gave her a bit of spending money.
 
My daughter Emma was born just before Christmas and my practice was in a small community within a large city.  Most of my patients knew that my wife was pregnant and that she was due around Christmas.  My patients were incredibly generous and we received many gifts that Christmas of little baby things etc.  Some of them we still have and treasure.  Others were used and then used by the second and third child and then given away to friends and neighbours who had small children.  But Elizabeth’s gift to us is packed away in a box and it’s one of the most special gifts of that time.  It was a little yellow newborn nightie or sleeper (I’m not sure what they’re called).  It was yellow and it had a little pink fringe at the bottom with little trains running across the front.
 
I had pictures of trains in my office from the days I worked as a porter on Via Rail and Elizabeth had noticed this and said that when she saw this little outfit, it made her think of me. Knowing that I was having a baby, she thought that yellow would suit either a boy or a girl. That gift probably represented a week’s wages for Elizabeth and every time she came to my office, she would ask to see the picture of Emma in that outfit which sat on the desk in my office.
 
Elizabeth’s visits to me became less and less frequent as she grew older and the schizophrenia took an ever firmer hold of her. Her parents eventually had to have her move into a group home. Every once in a while, she would show up in my office; the ravages of schizophrenia and the medication clearly evident in her mannerisms, in her behaviour and in her dress.  I knew that things were really bad the visit that she didn’t ask me to see Emma’s picture. I’m not sure why she came to see me that day.

She didn’t really have any medical questions, she didn’t need any medication.  I think she was probably just coming to say goodbye but really she couldn’t articulate it and I wasn’t bright enough to understand it.  I don’t know what happened to Elizabeth.  I never saw her again and at the point when I left my practice to move to Hamilton, I’m not sure her mom had seen her in many years.
 
That little outfit sits in a box in our attic carefully labeled “baby clothes” and one of these days, if I’m every lucky enough to have a granddaughter, I will pull it out and I will think of the kindness of a 17‐year old schizophrenic girl who, in spite of it all, gave me one of the most special Christmas gifts I’ve ever had.  Elizabeth taught me a lot about compassion and caring and generosity.  May we all count our blessings and enjoy some time with our loved ones over this Christmas/Holiday season and have a chance to regenerate our batteries and be grateful for all of the things that we have been blessed with.
 
May I wish all of you a wonderful holiday season and happiness in the new year.
                                                          
David