Wednesday morning I took Daughter to the lab to have blood drawn for lithium and depakote levels. This morning, I received a call from the nurse at the psychiatrist's office. Daughter didn't have any lithium or depakote in her blood. I was asked if I was sure she was taking her pills. I was fairly sure. She told me she was. I thought she was.
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She wasn't. Her pills are now in the little red pouch I carry around with her insulin and the keys to all medication. She will now have to take her pills in front of me. She will have to show me that her mouth is empty after she takes them. She is now one step further away from the independence she claims she wants. In another week, I will take her in for another blood draw.
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I've told her to stay away from me right now. Right now, I don't want her near me. She retreated upstairs, telling me, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just want to hurt myself."
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I'll provide the increased supervision. I fear, though, that all it will accomplish is to teach her once again to become sneakier. I may win the battle, but we both lose the war.
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