The Making of a Matriarch

We got an appointment with the OB and my daughter was found to be significantly depressed after answering a brief questionaire.  The NP said she was going to give her some anti-depressant samples (Welbutrin) and an anti-anxiety medication (Buspar) to tide her over until the Welbutrin got into her system.  She said that should she have any more thoughts of suicide to head to the ER.  The NP also said she would call us with an appointment to a psychiatrist who would monitor her progress with the meds.

They called and said the appointment had been set up and it was 2 hours after an appointment I had that day.  I took her to my doctor with me, for fear we would run short on time.  I got a referral to a neurologist, a return appointment for more blood work, and x-ray orders for the radiologists.  We left there and went to my daughter’s appointment.  When we finally got in to meet this person, he tells us up front that he is not a psychiatrist, but a family counselor.  Let’s review… we tried family counseling before and the nut job told my 15-year-old daughter that she had every right to explore her sexuality and told me that she was depressed and angry because I was oppressing her desires.  Fast-forward a few months and my daughter is sneaking out of the house at night, sneaking her boyfriend in, and winds up pregnant.  Forgive me if I’m a little turned off by family counselors now.  What’s more, the NP told us she need to be in the care of a psychiatrist and this person was NOT one.  He did give us a referral to one, but one that has just joined the practice and doesn’t yet take our insurance plan.  I figured we would go back to the drawing board on that one.

Against my better judgment, my daughter wanted me to drop her at the boyfriend’s apartment and let him bring her home later and I did.  I went on to the radiologist and ran into my mother who had also been sent there for imaging on her veins.  It was just wierd to bump into her like that!

By the time I got home, I was wiped out.  I wasn’t in pain or anything, just feeling exhausted and overwhelmed.  No rest for the wicked, though, right?  My hubby had let the boy take a four-hour nap and I had spending half the night up with him to look forward to.  Around 9 p.m., my daughter calls to tell me her boyfriend had just been pulled over and that I may have to come get her as the officers may refuse to let him drive home with so many recent infractions.  JUST LOVELY!  You see, the boy got shipped here from El Salvador by his parents when he was only 17 and now he can’t get his citizenship because he is here illegally.  That means no driver’s license, but he still drives.  He HAS to so he can work and support himself.  There’s no public transportation, too far to walk or ride a bike, and he can’t afford a cab.  And yes, I’m an idiot for letting my daughter ride with him, but what can I do?  Lock her up?  Let her run away?  Or just do the best we can?

Needless to say, all the excitement left her rather sick to her stomach, dizzyheaded, and not well in general.  And what do I do?  Announce that she won’t be riding in a car with him anymore.  That sets her off and we have a few “words of prayer”.  No sooner than I get that over with, the husband comes in pissing and moaning about how she’s using her depression as an excuse to get out of everything.  He is SOOOOOOOO understanding!  Then he proceeds to force the boy into bed when he is nowhere near sleepy, forcing me to get up and “rescue him.”

I think I finally got to go to bed around midnight, only to wake up to more drama!