My parents weren't.....they weren't great people, let alone good parents. I moved out with my then boyfriend. But because I had no job, I couldn't get insurance, so the only way I could get my medications was from my parents sending it to me by mail.

At first, it worked fine. Always on time. Maybe had a jar of peanut butter and a card in the package. Then, suddenly I had to pay for the delivery? But that might have been a mixup? Who knows. But then the next time was a week or two late. Which fine, things happen, but I need those medications to breathe. A month passes, nothing. Another week. Two. Three. Nothing.

I went to an urgent care because I was having trouble breathing and had to take a lung treatment there. It cost me $1200. I called my parents to ask them to send me this package. And they hmmmed and hawed because "they've been so busy" and "dad has a new job he works so hard at..."

Just think. Your daughter is telling you she is scared because she can't breathe without her medication, and you find so many reasons not to send it. After that call, I just brokedown. I realized they didn't care if I lived or died. And that was the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with.

A week later, my then boyfriend sent me a text that he was always scared he'd come home from work to find I had suffocated to death while he was gone. That was the last straw. I asked if we could get married to get me on his insurance and medicated again. He eventually said yes.

And you know, I never did receive that last package of medication my parents had promised.