Duality

In counseling today we talk of the duality of Colby. Like most of us, Colby was many things to many people, but with him, it was more pronounced. He could switch from nice, polite and smiling to disillusioned and angry at the drop of a hat. It's called schizophrenia. We look at pictures, of Colby as a baby, a grinning toddler, a gleeful third grader. Then the smiling photos become interspersed with insolent stares and uncomfortable body language. A week before he passed there were photos of a happy, carefree Colby taken five minutes before photos of him looking defensive, aggressive.

Together, as a group, the photos make it very clear that Colby was ill, mentally ill. I forget that sometimes in my grief. We talk of the possibility that if Colby had lived that we could have found a way for him to receive health care. He could have gotten better. I was not the only one trying to get him help. Several of his friends were trying, too. Trying very hard. Colby had wonderful friends. The other possibility was that even with the best treatment Colby never would have gotten better. He may not have responded to treatment. Or, he might have refused it. There is a good possibility that despite everyone's prolonged best efforts that he may still have deteriorated both mentally and physically. The drug use was a symptom of the illness. With the mental illness in treatment, he may, or may not, have been able to give up the drugs. He may, or may not, have been able to live a happy, productive life.

The result is that we will never know any of this. It is all hypothetical. Just 23, Colby's life could have been radically different at 30, and that could have been either good or bad. I have to settle for the reality that I really will never know. I can only know what was real for Colby in his last months and that was much unhappiness and fear. Yes, there were bright spots, happy times with friends and family, but much of it was overshadowed by the debilitating effects of schizophrenia. None of this brings Colby back. None of it lessens my grief. But, it does help put my thoughts in order as I desperately try to keep my mind from unraveling, And that is a small, but very positive, help.

This brings me to another sad note. One young man that Colby knew is in need of prayers. He is a sweet, intelligent, gentle young man with mental illness far more severe than Colby's ever was, and is in the hospital in a catatonic state. Please pray for Cameron and his family. They need your prayers, positive thoughts, love, and support so very much. A number of people tried, but could not, help Colby. Maybe a number of us can help Cameron.