Maintaining a healthy lifestyle was nearly a religion for Mila. Early on, she figured bipolar was challenging enough, so she did everything in her power to minimize the risk of other problems like heart disease and cancer which ran in our family. But there was more, she frequently reminded me. The lithium to control her bipolar illness could take a toll on her kidneys, and doctors in San Francisco warned she had early markers of diabetes and macular degeneration.
I admired the way she tried to protect her health. Mila took her meds regularly, and steered clear of anything like tobacco, alcohol, or pot, to avoid the risks they might pose. She drank cranberry juice to protect her kidneys, switched to a sugar substitute called Stevia to keep diabetes at bay, and always wore sunglasses to avoid blindness in later life. She also drank green tea and cooked vegan, including tasty meals of lentil soup, kale salads, and other veggie delights. Spinach became a staple of her diet. And her knowledge of medical breakthroughs, nutrition, and miracle supplements in the news was impressive, but would later make her more vulnerable to expensive multi-level marketing schemes.
Although she stayed fairly focused on her physical health, one of the downsides to Mila’s bipolar illness was a lack of organizational skills, on full display during the move Dan and I orchestrated from San Francisco.
After her furniture was unloaded in San Diego, she was so despondent from fatigue and the episode with the homeless guy, I had to set up her kitchen, unpack and organize her clothes, and take her shopping for new supplies. My hope was that she’d be able to maintain it once we finished. Despite my repeated attempts through the early years, disorganization won, and a new person would eventually enter the scene to raise that bar.
All night long, she didn’t answer her phone, so I went to bed with wild scenarios in my head. The next day, the phone rang early afternoon and it was Mila. My tight chest could relax now. The new beau surprised her with a bicycle because he knew she didn’t have a car, and delivered it to her house. I held my breath and waited for the rest of the story. Afterwards, he made dinner for her at his house. Within a week, he was staying with her most nights, and within a few months, he revealed he’d met someone new online. Mila was shocked. He told her like it was no big deal, she said, with her pulling the information out of him.
Naturally, she was devastated. And I was disappointed, too. After the three-year fiasco with a homeless man Mila somehow thought she could help, she should meet someone responsible and caring. The new beau seemed like a decent guy, and they appeared truly devoted at family events.
The result was disturbing. Mila soon became confused and spiraled downward, calling paramedics daily for a ride to the ER. First, she couldn’t remember if she’d taken her meds or not, then she feared she was having a stroke, and finally, she sent an email to her ex-beau stating she wanted to kill me and take my husband. It would be weeks before she stabilized again. Even months later, as we drove to a doctor’s visit, she confessed she’d also called a suicide line for help after the breakup. I was saddened to recognize she wouldn't call us for help, and was unlikely to confide in us. I wondered if her therapist even knew the details. She presented a cavalier front for us, proclaiming she’d find another candidate online.
Even though she lived nearby, we couldn’t save Mila from herself, and she wouldn’t necessarily share her true feelings. Dan reminded me I wasn’t her mother and I couldn’t keep tabs on her. But I’d been looking out for her since I was fourteen years old. It was tough during those high school years. When we both left Kentucky as adults, it became easier to manage by phone with hundreds or thousands of miles between us. I could go on with my life and put her problems aside, at least temporarily. It was much harder now, with her living close by again.
