10:45 AM
Ovidia
From the Minneapolis Star Tribune:
By Kim Ode, Star Tribune
June 7, 2008
Lynda Cannova came through the door of the coffee shop, her face strained and drawn. She looked like one of those marathon runners in their final miles, their eyes betraying a fear that they've spent their last reserves, that there's no more left. If they can only reach the finish line.
If only there were a finish line. For the past seven years, Cannova's life has seemed an unending pursuit of doctors, money, appointments, time, beds and peace of mind for her 26-year-old son Tony, who has a form of schizophrenia. "It's like I can't catch up to anything, even to him," she said.
She was in the midst of an especially bad stretch of whipsaw emotions. A weekend earlier, she'd driven from the Twin Cities to Duluth, where Tony has lived in a group home since November. They'd spent a glorious afternoon on the North Shore, at Gooseberry Falls State Park. Tony was all over the rocks, always just out of reach. "It doesn't matter what age a boy is, he's going to pick up sticks," she'd said, laughing as she watched her son striding 20 yards ahead, whacking weeds along the trail.
Now she took a fortifying swallow of iced coffee and blurted the news. Tony had been in the hospital after cutting his wrists on Memorial Day.
She has "wish list" destinations for him, therapeutic working farms for people with mental health issues. "But he needs to go a year without hurting himself before he could even be considered," she said.
Now it's Month One, once again.
Read more ...
By Kim Ode, Star Tribune
June 7, 2008
Lynda Cannova came through the door of the coffee shop, her face strained and drawn. She looked like one of those marathon runners in their final miles, their eyes betraying a fear that they've spent their last reserves, that there's no more left. If they can only reach the finish line.
If only there were a finish line. For the past seven years, Cannova's life has seemed an unending pursuit of doctors, money, appointments, time, beds and peace of mind for her 26-year-old son Tony, who has a form of schizophrenia. "It's like I can't catch up to anything, even to him," she said.
She was in the midst of an especially bad stretch of whipsaw emotions. A weekend earlier, she'd driven from the Twin Cities to Duluth, where Tony has lived in a group home since November. They'd spent a glorious afternoon on the North Shore, at Gooseberry Falls State Park. Tony was all over the rocks, always just out of reach. "It doesn't matter what age a boy is, he's going to pick up sticks," she'd said, laughing as she watched her son striding 20 yards ahead, whacking weeds along the trail.
Now she took a fortifying swallow of iced coffee and blurted the news. Tony had been in the hospital after cutting his wrists on Memorial Day.
She has "wish list" destinations for him, therapeutic working farms for people with mental health issues. "But he needs to go a year without hurting himself before he could even be considered," she said.
Now it's Month One, once again.
Read more ...
