Our daughter, Monica, was a community nurse who wanted to help and support those in need—much like the BC Schizophrenia Society’s (BCSS) regional educators do. By sharing our story, we want to honour her memory and recognize BCSS’ support to us and countless other families.
This holiday season, you can make a difference for families like ours.
We never thought Monica, our 38-year-old daughter, who smiled often and lit up any room she entered would take her life.
Our journey with Monica and her mental illness was relatively short in comparison to other families, but our pain and anguish have not been.
Monica’s life growing up was, for all intents and purposes, normal: she was full of life, love, and joy. She looked up to her older sister, got good grades, had lots of friends, and was well-travelled, exploring Australia, Nepal, Vietnam and beyond. She left home at 19 and entered nursing school a year later.
In fact, Monica graduated in February 2011 with the “gold cord”—an award given to those in the top 10% of their class.
After a placement at Insight during nursing school, Monica decided she wanted to work in the Downtown Eastside (DTES), first as an outreach nurse and later as a top clinician. She was a brilliant, kind, and devoted community nurse.
Monica didn’t share much with us during the last 10 years of her life, and we often only heard from her when she contacted us. Although we got together for special occasions, particularly for Christmas, we saw her gradually less and less after she left home. Some of those celebrations were more peaceful than others. A couple of times before we moved to Campbell River in 2016, she would leave early after fighting with her sister and us, either walking to a bus stop or calling a cab to go home. We just thought she had a short fuse.
At the peak of the opioid crisis in February 2016, Monica’s job meant she was on the front lines. Many of her clients overdosed, and some lost their lives. Monica became agitated and withdrawn. She was advised by her uncle, who was a doctor, to leave her position as it was starting to affect her emotionally, mentally, and physically, but she resisted.
The healthcare field she loved working in would later fail her during her own medical battle. She soon lost trust in the system she had devoted her life to.
In 2019, Monica shared with us that she was physically unwell and had diagnosed herself with a pulmonary embolism. She visited the ER four times and was sent home with no tests and no answers. Finally, after a fifth visit, she got a diagnosis of a blood clot in her chest. But, by that point, her trust in the system was fractured.
Despite her growing lack of trust, in late February 2020, Monica voluntarily admitted herself to the UBC psychiatric ward and spent three months there. When we visited in March 2020, just before COVID-19 hit, she was closed off and experiencing psychotic episodes, but a definitive diagnosis of schizophrenia still eluded her.
This period was an extremely hard time for us. Our communication with Monica was limited as she had refused to list us as her next of kin, and it was very difficult to get her on the phone. Later, COVID restrictions prevented us from visiting.
Although Monica understood the importance of taking medications as prescribed from her own nursing experience, she was resistant due to the side effects she experienced, such as hair loss and weight gain. Her struggles continued for two more years, with multiple self-harm attacks resulting in more hospital visits.
The stigma surrounding mental illness was overwhelming and she felt ashamed. We are positive that Monica, a healthcare worker who usually helped others, found it hard to accept being unable to help herself.
Monica’s hospitalization in late October 2023 would be her last. She texted us that she loved us on January 31st, 2024, and on the morning of February 10th, we learned that our daughter had passed away.
We were shattered.
For the past four years, our lives were consumed by making sure Monica was safe and suddenly, she was gone. In April 2024, we learned of the BC Schizophrenia Society, and although it was too late to save Monica, the support, resources, and community it provides have been invaluable in helping us move forward.
Our amazing educator, Michelle, and support groups have been our lifelines. We feel deeply supported and cared for by BCSS, and encourage other families in similar positions to reach out for that support as well.
We are heartbroken that our daughter is no longer with us, but knowing she is free from her pain and suffering does give us peace. We take it one day at a time.
We share Monica’s story to ensure she’s never forgotten and to help other families facing similar journeys. This holiday season, please consider donating to BCSS. Your donation can go to the BCSS Foundation, which drives research into schizophrenia and treatments, or to BCSS to support programs and services for families in similar positions.
Every dollar matters. Your gift this season has twice the impact on people living with schizophrenia and other severe and persistent mental illnesses as donations will be matched up to $10,000, thanks to Chris Sandy.
Your generous support today could make a life-saving difference for families like ours across BC.
Thank you!
With our family’s deepest thanks,
Bev and Rico Tancon
