Angela's Story

Angela Kimball's account of her child's struggle with mental illness helped convince money-conscious state lawmakers to restore mental health benefits deleted from Oregon's Medicaid plan. Here is her testimony:

When my 16-year-old was a toddler, I had a thought no mother should have.

I wondered if my beautiful boy would be in MacLaren [a state juvenile justice facility] on his 16th birthday. He just did not respond as other children did to requests, to explanations, to discipline, to normal routines, and to love.

I did not admit this thought to anyone. I was ashamed of myself for having it because I loved my son more than anything in this world.

I tried parenting classes, counselors, and behavior management techniques and stayed at home in order to pick him up from school every day and try to manage his behavior....He made little eye contact, he spoke little, he was hard to control, and his responses were unpredictable. We never knew what would be broken, who might be hurt, or when it would happen....

[My son's fifth-grade teacher] said, “Angela, honey, I've taught hundreds and hundreds of kids. And I know when a boy is misbehaving and when something is wrong. And something is wrong. You just keep looking for help. You'll know it when you find it.”

Those simple words resulted in a profound change of heart for me....I was far more ready to believe I had failed as a parent than to believe there was something wrong with my child.

A few months later, we were able to see a child psychiatrist who, I believe, saved our lives.... He asked my son to try a medication just once—and let him know if it helped. The next day, my son came home from school and said, “Mama, my head doesn't hurt anymore! I never knew it hurt; I just felt like slugging people all day long, and now I can kind of ignore them....”

It took two more years to get a combination of medications that stabilized him. [Before that happened,] he ended up in the back of police cars, in a diversion program, hauled to psychiatric crisis centers, and kicked out of school and placed in a program with stainless-steel lock-up rooms and former quarterbacks for guards....

But my son believed in his doctor, and his doctor believed in him. Together, with the help of a wonderful school, they made progress... .The police stopped coming to the door. The neighbors started talking to me. My son started smiling, making friends, started enjoying school, mowing lawns, and creating art. He started living life—and we did too.

On his 16th birthday, my son wasn't in MacLaren. He was graduating from an alternative school for troubled youth into a special classroom at a very large public high school.... Now he has his own dreams.... He wants to go to college for an art degree and to be a chef. To my way of thinking, it is really quite simple. My son's success gives us all the hope and promise that treatment works.

I have told you my story of hope, but now I must tell you my fears. One reason I am here is because I am worried about my son. I am employed part time and do not have the kind of insurance coverage that will pay for my son's medications. I do not know how I will afford the $350 a month, as I am not eligible for assistance programs. I worry about what will happen if my son goes into crisis. Counties have already had their crisis services funding cut.

My son's symptoms are in control, and Alex believes in his future. But before this legislative session is over, he will be an adult. I will not be able to protect and care for him forever. He deserves to have a future with access to community mental health services that help him remain stable and productive—not a future in the back of a police car, in a jail cell, or in a psychiatric ward. And, mental health services work.

Neglecting mental health costs. ▪