Day Seven

Seven days without food.

Third day calling triage.

Trying to get someone to understand.

Told Sunday’s case manager notes should have been enough.

Told to call an ambulance. I did.

She has a life-long, permanent mental illness.

She cannot see she could die.

Each day. A risk assessment.

I am not a doctor.

I juggle work.

I juggle children.

I juggle this crisis.

They did a face-to-face over the phone.

She presents well.

It looks fine.

It isn’t.

Every hour. A risk assessment.

Constant vigilance.

Endless calls.

Waiting.

It never stops.