Disunion a Distress During the Holidays

The holidays are a time of reunion, a time for family and friends. And so often, inevitably, it is a time of disunion, of wistfully realizing we’ve lost touch.

Sometimes “wistful” is too weak a word. The other day, I received season’s greetings of sorts from a North Hollywood couple. This Christmas message explains itself.

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Dear Mr. Harris: We are desperate. A dear friend of ours, Louis W., has disappeared off the face of the earth, and we don’t know where to find him. After what have apparently been unsuccessful attempts to get a message to him through the county health system, we are turning to you in the hope that publication of his story will help us locate him. We want to tell Louis that we miss him, that his family misses him, but we are afraid that if he is on the street, he will not know that there are people who care about him and who want to know that he’s all right.

Louis is a brilliant man and talented artist who, after a successful career in comic books, came to Southern California to break into animation. We met him as a cotenant in our apartment building. He worked for several studios doing storyboards for Saturday morning shows. He eventually found himself under immense pressure by the rigorous production schedules. The sleepless nights, the poor eating habits, the pills he took to keep himself going, finally got to him, and he burned out.

Louis realized he needed help and checked himself into a medical clinic. The studio, according to Louis, was indifferent to his attempts to steady himself, and so replaced him. Without a job and without family in the area to offer him direct support, Louis was evicted from his apartment. He was depressed and anguished, and we feared for the end of his soul.

We encouraged Louis to make some phone calls to county health workers. Thankfully, these calls enabled him to receive counseling with an excellent physician at one of the local county clinics, and qualify for several short-term residential programs where he could get back on his feet. When last we saw him, the anxiety had abated and he seemed calmly optimistic about the future.

Mr. Harris, at that moment, we were so proud to be Americans. In the person of our friend we could see our tax dollars at work. The ‘safety net’ of services which had been the pride of the county had saved Louis from the street--and maybe even from death. But now with the horrible financial condition of Los Angeles and the cutback of these vital services, where will people like Louis go?

We had breakfast with Louis in August, and that was the last time we saw him. His sister Marcie called us from back East; his family is worried about him. He didn’t call at Thanksgiving. We have a Christmas present with his name on it. We pray for Louis every day.

We tried contacting the health clinic, one of the residential facilities, even the county program office, to track him down . . . I understand the need for confidentiality, and therefore the inability to give us a number for Louis directly. But while everyone said they’d “give Louis the message,” no county worker was willing to promise that the message would get through, or follow up to inform me if it had. The cutbacks may have placed him on the street, and we would never know it.

How ironic that a policy that is meant to protect people’s privacy also has the consequence of isolating them from the support of people who care about them. I wonder how many other Louises end up sleeping on the grates of L.A. while their families and friends wonder what happened to them.

If it would not be asking too much, Mr. Harris, we want to give Louis a message.

Louis, if you’re out there, please call us. Let us know how you’re doing. We care about you and love you. And we hope life is continuing to get better. God’s blessings on you, dear friend . . .

Warmly,

Helen and Bob

P.S. If anyone out there knows where Louis is, please pass this message along to him.

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Indeed, how many people have fallen through the tears in the safety net? How many are isolated from loved ones?

When I shared this letter with county health officials, they expressed sympathy and a willingness, even an eagerness, to help. Such requests are not unusual, they say, and they could understand Helen’s and Bob’s frustrations.

Patient confidentiality “isn’t a matter of policy. It’s state law,” said Toby Staheli, spokeswoman for the Department of Health Services. The law forbids health workers from confirming whether someone is a patient.

So even if a health worker located Louis and gave him the message from Helen and Bob, Staheli explained, the law would forbid the worker from informing Helen and Bob that the message had been delivered, because to do so would confirm that he was a patient. It would be up to Louis to initiate contact.

Often, society’s lost souls don’t want to be found. “They’re often embarrassed. They don’t want to be seen in the condition they’re in,” said Areta Crowell, director of the county Department of Mental Health, whose crisis phone line is (800) 854-7771.

And pride may not just keep them away. “Homeless are people who typically have a certain kind of illness that makes them deny that they have a problem,” said Crowell, a psychologist.

Both Crowell and Staheli, who represent separate agencies, took down more detailed information and promised to try to find Louis and pass along the message. Staheli warned that it would be a difficult task, given the many drug and alcohol recovery programs that have contracts with the county. Crowell, however, said her department is “pretty much able to track those who’ve been in touch with us.”

Crowell said she wanted to convey a message of hope--that although mental health services, in her view, are about half of what they should be, “we have lots of success stories when people are brought in for treatment.” And people who seem to have been lost, she says, are often found. Not always, but often. The search can be national in scope, via the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill.

So for all the Helens and Bobs, and the Louises too, Crowell said it was worth a try.

On Saturday, Helen and Bob heard from Louis. The Department of Mental Health located him in a residential program and passed on their message.

Helen says they plan to get together for a holiday dinner.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311. Please include a phone number.