Courage for Corey

On March 19, 2019, I received this message from my best friend (and best man for my upcoming wedding) who recently moved to another country: “I’m so sorry I have to tell you this, but suicide is my plan. I know how and when I will kill myself. I know that you don’t deserve to feel this emotionally crushing weight. But you do deserve the truth. I love you endlessly.”

I reached out to mental health experts immediately for help on how to respond. I wrote back, “I know you are hurting. Your hurt is valid and real. Corey, you cannot end your life. I am ready to book a flight and be out there tomorrow to walk you through this. If I do not hear from you, I will be on a plane tomorrow. I love you.”

By some miracle, I was able to catch Corey in a moment where he agreed to fly to me to get help where I live, so I could be there long term. A painfully long thirty-hour flight later, my best friend was sobbing in my arms. And as I held this incredible and broken grown man, I knew that I would not be enough to fix him. Immediately friends and family stood at the front line ready to do anything for Corey at the drop of a hat. But none of us could offer what he needed most: the help of trained professionals. 

The next day I took Corey to the emergency room for a crisis evaluation. To be completely honest, I didn’t tell Corey where we were going or why. I was so afraid he wouldn’t go, and I knew he needed to. But when Corey sat in that chair and the MA asked point blank if he was suicidal, Corey looked at me with dead eyes, I nodded to him with pleading desperation, and he said, “yes.” Within sixteen hours Corey was sent to a treatment center with no phone, no insurance, no money, no job, and no place to call home.

The average patient stays at this facility is 7-10 days. Corey has a potential discharge date coming up which will be his 20-day mark. Corey’s friends and family have taken turns spending all visiting hours with Corey. Bringing games, crying together, laughing together, and growing together. I just walked out from seeing him about an hour ago and he is not the Corey that walked in there on March 21st. Is he still broken? Yes. His he lost? Yes. But now his eyes shine with the knowledge that he can do this. He can continue on. When I left he kissed me on the cheek and said, “Georgie, I am scared. But I am committed to staying centered. I can do this.” I walked out with tears streaming down my cheeks. This broken man is doing what only he can do for himself. I am so proud. 

I am also scared of the weight of reality when he is discharged. His mother and I have been back and forth with various paths of insurance for Corey to help with his stay. Due to the severity of the issue, I made the decision that Corey needed immediate help, and insurance would be figured out later. Every day we have tried, but it seems to be dead end after dead end. When Corey walks out he will be over $55,000 in debt for treatment of an incurable and sometimes unlivable diagnosis of severe depression. At first, Corey refused to go to the treatment center because he knew he couldn’t pay for it and didn’t have insurance. I promised him that I would figure it out. 

I know this treatment center has changed Corey’s life. I can tell you dozens of ways just from the past couple weeks. I also know that mental health is stigmatized, expensive to treat, and very difficult and vulnerable to talk about. I asked Corey if I could share his story, he was hesitant, but then said, “If you tell them I can help. If you tell them to reach out for help. If you tell them they aren’t alone.” That is Corey’s way. Always looking out for others.

We are securing insurance for continued care, as Corey is committed to outpatient help once he leaves, but cannot find any path for backpay for his life-changing stay. So here I am, asking you with all of my heart to help Corey on his pathway to courage and growth. After meeting with his business office I learned that if he can pay in full upon discharge, the cost would be reduced to around $40,000 ($15,000 less than if he did a payment plan). Corey said I could do this campaign only if he could put all of his money is as a first step. Corey has exactly $1,000 to his name, which is why you see the goal as $39,000. Corey is the last person to accept handouts, but the first to give to others when they are in need. So please, if you are in a position to help, even $1 makes a difference. If you are not in a place where you can assist financially, please know that just by sharing Corey’s story you are helping him and others in his position. 

Lastly, if you or someone you know is considering suicide, please reach out for help immediately. Call 1-800-273-8255 or visit suicidepreventionlifeline.org.