Separation, March 2011

Not a very happy update.

After struggling with her addiction for quite some time now, my wife has finally decided that she no longer wants to be with us. She asked for a separation.

On January 16, 2011, only four days before my 45th birthday, we again discovered she was back on drugs. After a very stressful two days of hysterics, we were able to settle down and I gave Nat yet another chance to stay clean.

On February 20, 2011, only four days before Little Nio's fourth birthday, we noticed that she was once again high on crystal methamphetamine. We were supposed to go visit the dentist for a cleaning following several days of complaining about a toothache. In hindsight, this may be more than just a toothache but the onset of a case of what is commonly known as "meth mouth".

I got home from overtime site visit work that day to pick both mother and son to go straight to Yanhee Hospital, where they have a very good dental department. My intention was to go for a cleaning myself and show Little Nio that going to the dentist can be a fun and exciting experience.

However, as soon as she got into the back seat of the car, I noticed all the telltale signs and I confronted her with the question. She denied that she was back on drugs, but within ten minutes she admitted that she was on drugs and she didn't care what I thought about it. When I said that we should go to a hospital, She refused and threatened to jump out of the car in the slow moving traffic. I calmed her down and said that we would all go out to dinner and that we would talk later on at home. I needed her to calm down so that she wouldn't upset our son, and so she wouldn't do anything that might lead to an accident where someone might get hurt.

She settled down, but even with the earbuds on, you could still hear the bad pop music blaring from her battered iPod nano. Her head was down, bouncing erratically to the beat of the music. I knew she wouldn't pay attention to where we were going next, so I changed direction and drove off to Sri Thanya Hospital. This is a government run hospital with a psychiatric ward. She has been to this hospital on four previous occasions, the first of which was on November 2, 2009.

I remember that it was raining that night. Not heavily, but enough that I had to get the umbrella out when we parked. Umbrella in one hand and leading our son across the road holding my other hand, I had no way to shepherd Nat up to the hospital lobby. As soon as she got out of the car and found her bearings, she exploded into an angry tirade. "Why did you bring me here!", was her howling lament. I explained that she needed some medical help, and that we would only get a sedative to calm her down.

My attention was divided between keeping Little Nio calm, convincing my wife to come up into the lobby and speaking to the hospital staff who had come out to see what the commotion was all about. In the end, I brought Little Nio up into the lobby out of the rain, and slowly explained to the hospital staff that I needed help with my wife. I asked them if they could gently bring her into the hospital emergency psychiatric ward for attention. One male orderly agreed to do so, but as soon as Nat saw him emerging from the lobby doors, she briskly walked away in the light rain.

By that time it was quite dark already, almost 7:00 in the evening. We walked over to a uniformed supervisor and explained to him our predicament. I described her as a thin young woman, with long hair, wearing a white sweater with black stripes and jeans. I don't know if it took them two minutes or twenty minutes, but I saw a number of hospital staff follow in the same general direction Nat took when she left. One of them was on a motorcycle. Time passed and Little Nio and I kept watch by the main doors anxiously peering out into the dark.

One of the hospital staff came up to me and said that they had found a woman who fit the description, and he asked us to follow him around the side of the main building down to the back loading area. Sure enough my wife was there surrounded by several male staff members dressed in hospital white and deep olive green for the security guards. She was sitting on a grassy patch on the kerbside leading into the loading area. Her limbs were splayed out in an odd angle and she was sobbing hysterically. My first concern was that they might have hurt her, but they reassured me that no one had touched her. Little Nio had started crying at this time, but I quickly reassured him that everyone present was here to help his mommy.

We eventually got her on her feet and one of the orderlies gently helped lead her back to the main entrance lobby to the emergency psychiatric ward. She was still wailing and sobbing, crying out in a hoarse voice, accusingly, "why did you bring me here?". Each time she raised her voice one of the senior security staff would tell her in a low stern tone to keep her voice down.

They settle her down onto a wooden bench with built in restraints, but I ask that they not tie her down. She is too weak and disoriented to get up and go anywhere, so one of the security men simply sits beside the only exit doors. Little Nio and I struggle with their admissions desk to establish who she is and what she is doing here. My Thai is conversational and ill equipped to explain what is going on and what needs to be done. I can neither read nor write in Thai, making me technically illiterate, which makes things all the more challenging.

It takes more than an hour, going back and forth with phone calls to Nat's family trying to speak directly with the hospital admissions staff. Finally, I pull out the calendar on my iPhone and help their staff in the records section trace back her case folder. We've recovered her records, but now there is no doctor available at the emergency ward and I have been told that the doctor on duty is doing the night rounds.

By this time, Little Nio is starting to get hungry. I leave my mobile phone number with the hospital staff and explain that we are going someplace nearby so that I can feed my son. They are very understanding and reassure us that Nat will be in good hands.

I have no experience in this neighborhood at all, so I am very grateful that I invested in a Garmin GPS. I do a search for nearby shopping areas and restaurants and successfully find a familiar mall nearby, Big C. They are bound to have some safe decent parking areas under roof and more importantly some decent food. We arrive there and Little Nio wants to eat at McDonald's. So much for decent food, but he's been through a lot already and I decide to cater to the whim and give in to his request. We finish our meal and do a little window shopping when my phone rings. It is the hospital and they want us back.

We return to the hospital and my wife is calmly sitting in the waiting area and there are a couple of women doctors finally prepared to discuss her case. We go over the history of her case and review recent events. I am as open and as honest as I can be about everything. My narrative is as objective as possible, limited to what has happened and I try very carefully not to color this with my interpretations of events.

The more senior doctor shares with me that my wife's addiction may only be a symptom of something even deeper. She tries to get more of a history of her childhood, but I can only relate what little my wife has shared of her past growing up. Again, it is difficult to tell the doctor about what has actually happened and separate it from my wife's interpretation or my own. However, the truth of the doctor's statement rings true — the substance abuse may be only a symptom of a deeper problem that has its roots in her childhood.

It is almost 9:00 in the evening. We are all very tired. Little Nio is worn out and the novelty of the misadventure mixed with the excitement of what has transpired is wearing thin. The woman doctor advises me that it is best that my wife is confined at Sri Thanya hospital and asks me for permission to do so. I tell her that it is not my decision alone, but should be something that my wife or my sister-in-law, Pa Kut, can agree to. Obviously my wife does not want to be confined, but after a phone conversation between Pa Kut and the doctor it is decided that Nat should be confined for a few days.

I pay for a confinement period of only three days, which later on gets extended to two weeks. Nat is eventually confined from Sunday evening, 20-Feb-2011 until Saturday, 05-Mar-2011.

From the main building the male intern walks my wife to the female dormitory, which is a five minute walk to the back area of the hospital compound, over to a cluster of low rise buildings. He is able to convince Nat that she is only going to go get a check up and an x-ray. Little Nio and I follow behind them along poorly lit cracked sidewalks and cheap terrazzo corridors.

When we get to the common ward a young nurse patiently reviews the history of my wife's case yet again. The male intern leaves us. We are sitting outside the building in a corridor with a makeshift reception desk and the mosquitoes are coming to feast. My patience has all but vanished, but I am too exhausted to loose my temper. Besides the young nurse is pretty, pleasant and polite. She is only doing her job, so I play along and go through the entire question and answer routine yet again. We sit under the sterile glow of bad fluorescent lighting as Little Nio grows more and more impatient and frustrated. He is momentarily distracted by the nurses' pet pug who peeks out of one of the windows near their faux admissions area.

Another group of more senior and formidable female nurses usher my wife into the ward interiors. They explain to Nat that she needs to put on hospital clothing for the x-rays to work properly and all her belongings will be returned later on. This was the very last time I saw my wife. They emerge not ten minutes later with all of my wife's material possessions complete, including her clothes and wedding ring, all in a small bundle stuffed into a white plastic bag.

I shell out another one thousand baht for Nat to use as a living allowance fund, just in case she needs to purchase personal toiletries or snacks. This is the same allowance system used up in the Khon Kaen rehab center.

The pretty nurse guides us back towards the main parking lot. Little Nio is asking me questions about his mother, and I try to explain as best as I can. "Mommy did something bad and now she is very sick. She cannot stay with us because the doctor said she needs to get better first". He asks me if his mommy is bad and I say, "no, your mommy is not bad, but she chooses to do bad things".

We drive home.