Fix Me

By EL George

Fix Me

By EL George, author of Goodbye Unicorns

"Why can't you fix me, Mommy? You always do. You're the only one who fixes me."

"Hush."

Hush was the word from my favorite bedtime song. It was the one where Mommy promised to give me the world and never, ever let anyone hurt me. But Mockingbirds did sing. I'd heard them. And I was too young for a diamond ring anyway. All I wanted was for her to fix me … again.

This time was different. This time, Mommy didn't bring me to the doctors where they'd give me stickers and take my blood. This time, she said I wasn't sick enough. Mommy looked sad. She wanted me to fix her. I knew there was only one way to do that so I forced out a cough.

She smiled.

"Can you fix me, Mommy?"

"Yes. I'm the only one."

She pulled out the blue stuff that tasted like the car wash. I wanted to throw up but smiled anyway. Anything to make Mommy happy.

***

Fix Me is the story of a little girl named Josephine who only has one wish:

To be normal like the other kids and not have to repeat another year of school for too many medical absences. But to get there, it will take making her mother—a sufferer of caregiver fabricated syndrome—healthy again. Josephine after all, is the only one who can pull it off – if time doesn't run out for her first…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crazy Ink
• Release date: Oct 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386254768

Book preview

For all those who believe anything can be fixed with enough patience and love.

I hope you’re right.

Also, for Samantha Talarico – the only person who won’t cry when she reads this story even though I named her after Joe.

Thank you for fixing my words.

Ride on. 

––––––––

EL GEORGE

Author note

A new case involving two children; a (gender) who is (age) and a (gender) who is (age).  They were removed from their mother due to allegations of caregiver fabricated illness in a child, formerly known as Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy.  The allegations are against the mother who is alleged to be fabricating illnesses on the (child’s gender).  (Hospital) is very involved and wrote a very detailed letter in support of the children being placed out of the home due to the serious concerns that they have.  The (same child) had many diagnosis/symptoms that once evaluated were found to be not present.  There was a third sibling who passed away (date of death).  (The hospital) reports in their letter to DCYF that it was reported to them that (deceased child’s gender) had elevated insulin levels.  The courts granted removal today, and that is all the information I have at this time.  I do not have the prelim date or placement info yet...Please consider helping out and contacting me for details this afternoon.

That was the original, true life, referral as it came into my inbox. Identifying items, such as ages, have been removed to protect the minor-aged victims. It was my first up-close glimpse at what appeared to be a textbook case of Factitious Disorder Imposed on Another, more commonly known as Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy and often referred to by those in the field as fabricated caregiver syndrome. It didn’t matter what anyone called it. It still doesn’t and won’t. What mattered was it was about to become a big part of my life. The following book is not specifically about this case. It is a fictionalized version of a similar case I was involved with including similar circumstances and a mother and her children all impacted by Munchausen.

All names and identities have been changed to protect everyone involved. I have, however, tried to stay close to the more important events as they occurred and have chosen to write from various points of view to give readers a glimpse into the systemic impacts of this often fatal mental illness.

Lastly, I write this book as an author and not in my daily role as an at-risk family therapist and court-appointed special children’s advocate. While I have tried to stick closely to diagnostic and other facts of these cases, parts of this story—for entertainment purposes and to promote awareness only—have been altered. I have condensed several years of work and cases into a shorter time period for the sake of the story. Likewise, I have altered places and the order in which events occurred to protect client confidentiality. 

Sadly, cases like these are becoming more and more common and complicated. With the drug epidemic at an all-time high, many parents I work with have chosen to use their children as tools to obtain prescription medications they use in illegal ways. While this isn’t exactly the same thing as fabricated caregiver syndrome or Munchausen by proxy, the characteristics are similar in many ways. For this reason alone, I felt this story was an important one to write. If you suspect a loved one is struggling with Munchausen, substance abuse, or any of the conditions written about in this book, please seek professional help. This problem is more common than you—or I—might think as it is often misunderstood and diagnosed only after it is too late. Sometimes, it is not discovered at all until it happens to another child.

Warning: This book is not for the faint of heart. It will anger you and make you cry. It should. Until we find treatment for this deadly mental illness, children will continue to suffer, and worse, die. It is my hope that this story will help spread awareness around symptoms that caregivers suffering from this disease may exhibit. Again, if you suspect a child, elderly person, or anyone under another’s care is being hurt in this way, please contact your local authorities or health and human services and file an anonymous report. It could literally save someone’s life. I’ve seen it happen.

-  EL George, author and court-appointed special children’s advocate

PROLOGUE

Fix Me

Josephine Swanzey, age 7

Before

"But why can’t you fix me, Mommy? You always do. You’re the only one who fixes me."

Hush.

Hush was the word from my favorite bedtime song. It was the one where Mommy promised to give me the world and never, ever let anyone hurt me. But Mockingbirds did sing. I’d heard them. And I was too young for a diamond ring anyway. All I wanted was for her to fix me...again.

This time was different. This time, Mommy didn’t bring me to the doctors where they’d give me stickers and take my blood. This time, she said I wasn’t sick enough. Mommy looked sad. She wanted me to fix her. I knew there was only one way to do that, so I forced out a cough and prayed there was more of Grandma’s stuff in the garage.

She smiled.

Can you fix me now, Mommy?

Yes. I’m the only one.

It wasn’t in the garage. Mommy had thought smart and brought it in the house. She’d even put it in my favorite cup with the letter J for my name. She pulled out the blue stuff that tasted like the car wash. I wanted to throw up, but smiled anyway. Anything to make Mommy happy. Nobody knew that it was really my job to fix her. My Mom was messed up, and I