William and Penny Moloy are holding photos of their daughter Ashley in front of their home in Harbor Breton. Ashley Moloy died on April 11 at a hospital in Grand Falls-Windsor, a three-hour drive from Harbor Breton. (Gareth Barry / CBC)
Warning: This story contains a discussion of suicide.
The 90 minutes that Penny and William Moloy waited in April for someone to save their daughter’s life felt like an eternity.
Their 27-year-old daughter Ashley was still on the alert, but they knew that the poison from the overdose of prescription drugs was moving more and more into her body. She refused their requests to vomit what she had swallowed.
They can see the local hospital from its front step in Harbor Breton, a small coastal community on the south coast of Newfoundland, but it was closed that day last month and emergency services were on what is called a complete diversion. The nearest ambulance was about 70 kilometers away.
“Just wait,” William said. That was all they could do, he said, “Just wait for a miracle that would never come.”
By the time Ashley arrived at the hospital in Grand Falls-Windsor – the closest option, although 225 kilometers away – five hours had passed.
Ten hours later, she died after suffering three seizures in hospital.
Penny Moloy said there was never enough support for her daughter, who has been suffering from depression for years. But the day before her death, when she was most vulnerable, no one was there.
Ashley Moloy was 27. Her mother says she was diagnosed with depression about a decade ago. (Submitted by Tyler Moloy)
The Molloys told the CBC about their daughter, her mental health struggles, and how they felt their family’s health system – and their rural community – had failed when they needed it most.
The central health service, which provides medical services in the region, said in a statement that the regional health institution was not discussing specific cases. It did not answer specific questions about the incident.
“No parent should go through this,” said William Molloy. “You don’t have to outlive your children. Ours were taken too early. All because of neglect and the help she wanted but couldn’t get.
“And now we have to live with that for the rest of our lives.”
A long battle with depression
According to her mother, Ashley has lived with depression for years.
She has already attempted suicide, including when she was 17, in 12th grade. At that time, the Conegre Peninsula Health Center was open to emergency patients and the hospital was able to give her charcoal treatment to reverse the effects of the poison she had ingested.
For the next 10 years, she tried to live her life to the fullest: she got engaged and had two children. She moved to Alberta and returned home to start a family.
Ashley Moloy, left, is pictured with her cousin’s partner at their 2017 wedding, in which Ashley was the bridesmaid. (Submitted by Tyler Moloy)
But she also tried to commit suicide on other occasions, her mother said, and continued to struggle with severe depression that kept her from working.
Her mother said her life had improved after giving birth to her two children, now seven and five.
“She loved her children and her children loved her,” she said. “Everything was children.
It was a pleasure to be around. – William Moloy
Her mother says she wanted to get better and that she did her best. But the constant flow of trips to the hospital, Penny Moloy said, is usually nothing more than a different prescription for an antidepressant.
Her parents say they cannot count how many times she has seen a doctor or other medical professional. But they believe the help Ashley needed could not be found.
“She was crying for help, she was begging for help. But she wasn’t there,” said Penny Moloy.
Ashley also often suffers from seizures, which further complicates her life. In addition, some of her medications cause severe side effects, her parents said, including severe and persistent nausea.
“She just gave up on everything.”
By March, Ashley’s mental health had deteriorated to a low level.
“She couldn’t go for walks, she couldn’t be with the kids, she couldn’t do anything,” Penny said. “She couldn’t do anything alone. She got to the end and she wouldn’t go anywhere. She just gave up.”
It was a big difference from the daughter they knew. Her father said she could be fun, energetic, sociable and helpful.
“It was a joy to be around,” he said.
WATCH William and Penny Moloy describe a painful loss in an interview with CBC’s Gareth Barry:
How do you let your baby go? Parents grieve for daughter who can’t find the help she needs
William and Penny Moloy talk about their daughter’s death, her mental health struggles, and how they think their family’s health care system failed when they needed it most.
On Sunday morning, April, William and Penny woke up and found their daughter at home with a bottle of venlafaxine in her hand. She was still alert; she even told her parents she had taken antidepressants.
But she would not agree to try to get them out of her stomach. Her father tried to force her to vomit, but failed.
“Now I know I was wrong,” he said. “But then I just thought I was trying to save her. No one else did.”
Penny said the family did not want to drive alone, as there were almost no mobile phones on the long isolated highway to Grand Falls-Windsor. They said they could not ask anyone for help if their daughter’s condition suddenly changed while driving.
All they could do, they said, was wait.
“Hopeless. As if it would never show,” Penny said.
“I took her in my arms, as if I were dealing with a small baby, and I wanted her out of it,” her father added. “I wanted the ambulance there so quickly.”
According to Penny and William Moloy, by the time Ashley arrived at the emergency room in Grand Falls Windsor, charcoal treatment – which had saved her before – was no longer an option. They said the X-ray showed the pills had moved too far into her body.
The journey from Harbor Breton, NL, to the hospital in Grand Falls-Windsor is on a challenging rural highway. (CBC News)
She suffered three seizures in hospital. After the third, her father said, doctors at the Central Newfoundland Regional Health Center said they could not continue.
“The doctor came out and said, ‘Come in with her and take her hand,'” William said.
“How do you let your baby go?” We had to go in, sit by her bed, hold her hand. For the last few seconds, when she hung there, I took her in my arms, holding her in my arms. She looked up at me with a wide smile on her face, her eyes as wide as possible.
“She just left.”
Raising their daughter’s children
Two bouquets of cloth flowers sit on Ashley’s grave in the Roman Catholic cemetery in Harbor Breton. The colors – pink and purple – were chosen by her two daughters.
They now live with their grandparents, and Penny and William Moloy prepare them for school every day.
They have an “impossible” job, they said: they are trying to explain to the two girls where their mother is.
“How do you do it? What do you tell them?” Said William. “When you go from one day, you have your mother, the next day, you don’t have a mother?”
Ashley’s two daughters chose fabric flowers to decorate her grave. (Gareth Barry / CBC)
When they returned from the hospital, William said he had taken Ashley’s coat with him and her shoes were still in the house.
Ashley’s eldest daughter saw him tidying up.
“Sofia said:” Pop! Look, you cheated on me! ”I said,“ Why, darling? ”She said,“ Mom’s here! ” I said, “No, honey. Mom is not here.
Where to get help:
Canadian Suicide Prevention Service: 1-833-456-4566 (telephone) (Text only from 16:00 until midnight ET) Crisisservicescanada.ca
In Newfoundland and Labrador: 24 Hour Mental Health Crisis Line: 1-888-737-4668
In Quebec (French): Association québécoise de suicide prevention: 1-866-APPELLE (1-866-277-3553)
Helpline for children: 1-800-668-6868 (phone), live chat consultation at www.kidshelpphone.ca
Canadian Suicide Prevention Association: Find a 24-Hour Crisis Center
Read more from CBC Newfoundland and Labrador
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