In the mid-1970’s, we were living the American dream. We had 2 children, a dog, a house in the suburbs, and my husband was employed by a major company. We did all the usual things. Desiree was in the top 1/3 of her class academically and was extremely artistic. When the illness did manifest itself, there were many signs. The first sign came when she was in a track meet. She had already broken the school record for the mile and was participating in a meet. Part way around the track she began crying and had no idea why. One evening, she came home from a slumber party and was quite psychotic. She said people were manipulating her thoughts and actions. She had no affect and appeared glassy eyed, almost catatonic. We took her to the pediatrician and discussed everything with him with Desiree in the room. It was as if she were sleep-walking. She was physically there, but not mentally. The pediatrician realized immediately how sick she was and told us we had to take her to the hospital. The only place in the cities for adolescents was a place called Willow Street, across from Loring Park. They didn’t find any drugs and didn’t know what was wrong, but sent her home. We were all relieved and thought it was just a little “bump in the road.” About a month later, things began again. We took her back to the psychiatrist and met him in his office. I’ll never forget this day. He said, “It’s schizophrenia.” I totally broke down and I said, “Do you think it could be a brain tumor?” He said, “Yes, you would like that wouldn’t you. A nice little tumor that we could cut out and this would be all over with. Well, the corn still has to be hoed, so get over it.” How I hated this man at this moment. He then gave us a pile of pills, no instructions and sent us home. She would continue to be hospitalized every fall throughout her entire high school life. This was not an appropriate placement for her but there weren’t any alternatives. While she was in the hospital, the mania kicked in. At one point she said she was doing cartwheels in the hallway. She was told to stop, but didn’t. They interpreted this as a behavior infraction and rolled her up in a mat and put her in a room. This memory is still very vivid to her 17 years later. There were many other incidents that I questioned and wrote letters to the appropriate people. This hospital was closed shortly after Desiree’s last hospital stay there.