As soon as I got home the desperate telephone calls came.  I felt so weary.  All I wanted to do was get some rest.  I wanted someone to handle the problem if only for a day.  Finally a few days later I resorted to threatening him, "Alex, you need help!  I don't want to hear from you again unless it's to say you are going to the hospital!"  I never had gotten impatient or demanding with him like this before.  I figured maybe this is what he needed.  But, it backfired on me.  When I called Alex the next day his sister answered the phone and told me that Alex was in the hospital because he was found passed out on the floor in the bathroom.  She explained that it was due to overdosing on prescription pills.  The same ones I had once hidden on him.  Why didn't I just throw them out when I had the chance?  I asked myself.

    He woke up in the hospital with a breathing tube in his throat terrified.  I went to the hospital to see him the next day.  He apologized but he still was not himself.  He had told me during this ordeal that he felt trapped somewhere and that he was not himself.  After I had been there a few hours he took my ring off my finger that he had given me years before, then told me that it was all over.  I tried my best to be loving and supportive of him but taking the ring off my finger seemed so cruel.  I ran out of the room crying and saw his sister and said, "He's so mean and abusive.  He took the ring he gave me off my finger.  How can he hurt me like that?  Haven't I been through enough?"  She looked at me with great pity.

    Alex was under strict suicide watch by the hospital so he was not able to leave his room to chase after me.  I could hardly believe this had happened to us after all we had been through or why God would let this happen.  I composed myself and went back into the room.  He then apologized and even prayed for me to be healed of my pain despite his condition.

    At night when visiting hours were over I kissed him goodnight and you could see his eyes were all jumpy as if they were popping out of their sockets.  What a sight of sheer horror to have to see in his eyes.  I could tell he was seeing things on the ceiling but it was so common that he couldn't even complain about it anymore.  His torment was so complete that he could not even feel one moment's peace.  He no longer would even hear the Scriptures.  He said he was doomed to hell and that was his sentence and nothing could change that.

    After four days at the hospital he was placed at the mental hospital.  Just before he left I stood there in the bathroom with him carefully watching him shave as I felt he couldn't be trusted with even a razor blade.  I assisted him in drying off his face.  Then when he was done and ready to go he looked at himself in the mirror and waved goodbye to himself.  He was terrified of having to go to a mental hospital; that all those weird imaginations he had about mental hospitals would finally come to pass.

    I watched as he was escorted to a special wheel chair that had straps on it so a person could not escape.  He was then strapped into the chair like a criminal.  Suddenly this brought back memories of seeing my teen aged son Teddy restrained on his school bus every day.  He had to be restrained because he would throw his shoes at the bus driver.  He just didn't know any better.  How I hated to see a human being become a prisoner of an enemy within his mind that kept him captive.  Was there any answer?  Were people like this doomed to this fate?  No matter how cruel the fate, I would not leave his side.  I was there till the end, whether it be good or bad.  The Bible says that a friend loves at all times.

    Alex's sister Jackie and I followed the hospital van till we reached the mental hospital.  We were led to the entrance and met by the director.  The director briefly showed us around.  There wasn't much to see.  It was a wing which had several bedrooms.  Then there was a tiny place to eat where there were a few tables and a microwave.  Then there was one little TV room where people could watch television to a pre-set channel.  Several women walked the hallway looking scared, paranoid or lonely.  One woman was off in a corner talking to imaginary people.  A teenage boy ran around in his underwear flapping his hands being chased by a worker to get back into his room in order to get dressed.  I noticed that Alex's sister Jackie was not familiar with these types of behaviors.  I knew them all too well having raised three children with severe autism and mental retardation.  Alex looked very frightened by the other residents.  Jackie and I hated to leave Alex there 

that day but we had no other choice.  People who attempt suicide have to have a mandatory stay at the Mental Hospital afterwards for evaluation.

    After we left, from outside the building, I went to the window of his little bedroom and said goodbye again against the bolted on and barred screen.  I put my hand up against the screen and he put his hand up against mine.  He looked pathetic and beaten.  I was still in a bit of shock that I was living this moment.  I held my composure for his and his sister's sake.  As I turned and walked away arm in arm with his sister she broke down and cried, "We are leaving him here like a dog!"  I had nothing to say to console her.  All I could hold on to was the fact that he was still alive and I was thanking God for that.​