My Grandmother’s Schizophrenia Fueled my Purpose.

My grandmother was often convinced she was Mamie Eisenhower.

(Here’s an older piece I felt moved to share here)

We couldn’t call her by her real name, in case it sent her over the edge. I remember driving up to the back of the building on the top of the hill—every time it was around Christmas. We’d buzz—then the door would buzz and click unlocked. We’d push the industrial steel door open and wind our way up the lo…