Written by Heather Durham, Opinion contributor
Published 7:44 a.m. ET Dec. 7, 2018 | Updated 7:44 a.m. ET Dec. 7, 2018
Published 7:44 a.m. ET Dec. 7, 2018 | Updated 7:44 a.m. ET Dec. 7, 2018
My brother Skyler was a charismatic, loving,
genuine person.
He was a star athlete and a class clown and
really smart when he wanted to be. People were drawn to him, and he could make
anyone laugh.
However, in his teens, Skyler was diagnosed with bipolar
disorder and paranoid schizophrenia. He struggled with voices,
hallucinations and delusions.
Occasionally, the “old Skyler” shined through, but the haze of
his illness cast a cloud over him from which he could not escape.
His inability to reason or rationalize led him through a
revolving door of jails and hospitals such that many of our visits were
conducted across a table or through a glass window.
The symptoms of his illness prevented Skyler from driving a car
or going to work. He relied on SSI and Medicaid to cover medical expenses.
My brother’s monthly food stamp allotment was a mere $64.
Officials told us that he could eat at homeless shelters.
Unfortunately, Skyler was too unpredictable and aggressive to
stay with my mother or me, and his run-ins with the law prevented him from
finding public housing. He was forced to live in slum houses, with outrageous
rent and no credit checks, alongside hardened criminals and others with severe
mental illnesses.
Skyler would befriend just about anyone who was nice to him, so
some of these people took advantage of him, stealing what little he
had.
My mother and I tried to look out for him every way we could.
Mom encouraged him to take his medication. She helped him with
laundry and other necessities on a nearly weekly basis.
In June, Skyler was a no-show. My mother’s instincts told her
something was wrong. She sent my stepdad to check on him.
My brother had passed away in his Louisville apartment four days
earlier. He was 34 years old.
The coroner said the cause of Skyler’s death was a heart attack,
but I would argue that schizophrenia is what claimed him. Research backs up
this belief.
On average, people with severe mental illnesses die 25 years
earlier than those without. These illnesses wear people down and exacerbate
other physical conditions, such as diabetes and heart disease.
After Skyler’s death, I reached out to the Treatment Advocacy
Center, a national nonprofit dedicated to eliminating barriers to the timely
and effective treatment of severe mental illness. I wanted to memorialize my
brother and bring awareness to the way we ignore, neglect and criminalize these
diseases. I want to help the estimated 114,000 Kentuckians with schizophrenia
or bipolar disorder, many of whom are untreated.
Surprisingly, Kentucky has laws to help the
state’s most vulnerable citizens with severe mental illness — those
individuals unable to recognize the severity of their condition — it just
refuses to implement the programs that these laws allow.
For example, in the interest of stemming the
public health crisis posed by untreated mental illness and addressing the
skyrocketing costs for public mental health services, bipartisan, veto-proof
majorities in the Kentucky Senate and House passed Tim’s Law.
Tim’s Law authorizes assisted outpatient
treatment in the community under court order, prioritizing those most in need
— the same people who are already taxing public support
services.
