Charity has been sick for 10 years now, diagnosed as schizo-affective. The voices started in her head 10 years ago when she was with her husband. She graduated from high school, almost graduated from college, got married, and shortly afterwards, the voices started. Her husband grew tired of the sickness and had the locks changed on their house in New Orleans. The voices told her to lie down in the middle of a very busy street so the cars would run over her. God took care of her, and the police took her to the hospital. That was the beginning of many hospitals stays. I took her in. She had no place to go. She would run away, sleep in the woods in Shreveport, go to a homeless shelter in Lufkin, Texas, and sleep by the river in New Orleans. She would disappear and come back. She's with me now in Georgia, since I moved from New Orleans. We can only take one day at a time, since she gets off her meds and then realizes that she's much better on her meds. On again, off again, that's the story of her life, and as long as I have breath, I will take care of her.
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