Running on Insulin

Chapter 15

"In the early hours of the morning, local lawyer, Stanley Deitz was apprehended after having escaped from the Columbus Police Department jailhouse. Mr. Deitz had been previously arrested for uttering threats, child abuse, and failing to provide the necessities of life in relation to his 13 year old daughter. Deitz's daughter is diabetic and had fled the family home on Monday night following an altercation heard by neighbours. It was later found that Mr. Deitz had been forcing his daughter to ration her insulin, despite being able to afford the medication vital to the teenager's life.

Mr. Deitz has now had charges of felony escape, impersonating a police officer and several weapons charges added to the current roster of charges. He was delivered to the Columbus Federal Penitentiary early this morning following a city wide manhunt.

He was found near the home of his daughter's current foster parents, where it is believed he had hoped to apprehend his daughter.

The teenager is currently in an undisclosed location and we here at ABC 7 hope she is safe with her foster parents."

I turned off the TV after they switched to another story. Samantha's jaw was open. She seemed unable to believe the news.

"He's in prison, sweetheart." Jenna said.

"He's, he's really gone?" She asked.

"He's really gone . He's in prison. He's not getting out so easily," I said.

My phone rang again and it was Officer Davis. He told us that they'd conducted a search of our home and grounds and that they found no weapons or threats, no traps or bombs and that we were free to go home whenever we felt ready. I thanked him and relayed the message to Jenna and Samantha.

"Samantha has her appointment at one. Maybe we should go for a nice lunch before? To celebrate?" Jenna said.

Samantha's head dropped. She still wasn't feeling good about the therapist. I sat down next to her.

"Don't forget, I'm coming with you. Whether I can come in with you, well , we'll see. But I'll take you to the appointment."

She took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Now, check your sugar, let's make sure you're okay, and we can check out and get some food."

Samantha reluctantly agreed.  I watched as she conducted the test and read the results. 94.

"Is that good?" I asked.

She nodded.

We checked out of the hotel and went downstairs to the car. I looked around to make sure it was okay, but did so subtly.

Samantha climbed into the back seat and remained quiet. I wasn't sure if it was the news of her dad or the upcoming appointment that was on her mind.

We drove to a restaurant Jenna and I really liked that was nicer than a T.GI.Friday's, but not so fancy we'd look out of place in our jeans and sweatshirts.

Samantha stared at the menu, but I could see her fingers weren't working. She wasn't calculating carbs. Which meant she wasn't actually looking at the menu.

"Samantha, anything look interesting to you?"

She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes.

"What's the matter?" I asked. Jenna put her hand on Samantha's back and gently rubbed her back.

Samantha shook her head while she quietly sobbed.

"Hey, hey," I said. "Do you want to come outside with me for a minute?  Get some air and talk?"

She shook her head again.

"Do you want me to come outside with you?" Jenna asked.

Samantha shook her head again.

"What can we do to help, sweetheart?" Jenna asked.

Samantha shrugged.

The server approached the table but I put up a finger to indicate we needed a minute. She noticed Samantha was crying and nodded and walked away.

"Are you having trouble with everything that's happened in the past few days?" I asked. "Can't quite articulate what's happened and what's going to happen to you?"

Samantha shrugged again, but started crying harder.

I got out of my chair and knelt beside her. I took her hand.

"Come with me. You're okay, and you're going to be okay, but you need some air and if you don't want to talk, that's okay. But let's get you some fresh air, okay?"

She nodded and followed me outside.

"Is everything alright, sir?" The host asked as I opened the front door.

"It's fine. We're just going to get some air," I said. "My wife is still at our table. We'll be back in just a minute."

There was a bench just outside the entrance, so I led Samantha there, sat her down and wrapped my arms around her. For a few minutes, I just let her cry. When I felt her slowing down, I looked at her.

"Okay, good cry. Feeling better?"

She shook her head. I turned her to face me and looked her in the eyes. She looked down at her lap.

"Samantha, look at me," I said. She looked up with her bright blue eyes, red rimmed and still filled with tears.

"I can't imagine what you're going through or what's going through your mind right now, but I hope you'll either trust me enough to tell me, or you'll tell the therapist today. But you should know, there's nothing you can tell me that will change the fact that Jenna and I love you very much and want nothing more than for you to be happy and healthy and safe. And we will do everything we can to make sure you stay that way.  So, want to talk?"

She took a deep breath and let it out.

"I can't tell you. I can't tell you because I don't know what I'm feeling. I'm happy he's in prison, but I'm scared he's going to get out anyway. I'm scared that with all this trouble, you'll decide I'm too much trouble to take care of. Along with my diabetes, I have all this baggage from my dad."

"I understand how conflicted your feelings must be. A lot has happened in a short period of time. Jenna and I have a lot to learn to make sure you stay healthy on the diabetes front, and the issue with your dad is concerning, and frankly, a bit scary, but no reason Jenna and I would think of anything but helping keep you safe. And as for baggage, you can always talk to Jenna or me about anything. Remember, I deal with mental health issues myself. I understand.  And don't worry about burdening me. Therapy has helped me learn how to deal with my own issues. I have room to help you with yours. And as for therapy, I know you're scared about going. But believe me, it's not scary at all. You'll sit in a comfortable room, probably in a comfortable couch or chair, and you can tell your therapist anything or nothing. They'll listen, they'll give you advice on how to cope with the things that bother you and how to ask for help if you need it. They'll validate how you're feeling. They won't blame you for any feeling you think is wrong or stupid. They'll help guide you to healthy thinking."

"But what if I don't like the therapist?"

"Then we'll try someone else. And someone else. Until you find someone you're comfortable talking with who is trained to help you. And you'll have Jenna and I any time you need. Okay?"

She nodded, and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

"Now, ready to eat some lunch?"

She nodded and we stood up. I put my arm around her shoulders and we went back inside.