Meh

It's a down day. I'm tired, can't concentrate, nothing is fun. The tank is running low.

Is the boy stuck in reverse??

Sproing will not be transfered to the other facility today. Superman got a call first thing this morning. The boy is currently sedated (evidently it worked this time) because, as Superman told me, "he went batshit crazy." I don't think that was the exact term the nurse used, but it is a good translation.

They cannot release him because he is currently a danger to himself. He was throwing himself against the wall again. I'm glad they aren't going to give him to Superman today, really, under these circumstances. No one else is going with him today, and if Sproing had one of these almighty tantrums in the car driving down the interstate at 65 mph, what could Superman do? It's dangerous.

Actually, I'm afraid for him to leave there. His behavior has been consistently erratic, if that makes sense, and who's to say that if he had two good days in a row that he wouldn't loose his shit on the third day while in our car?

Time for me to go to class now. Perhaps I can concentrate on research observation techniques and not worry about the boy. Let's find out.

One step forward and two steps back

The boy. Oy. He had a really great day Sunday. Superman visited him (I stayed home with Diva) and the whole visit was smooth, friendly, not a discouraging word was heard.

But this evening we got a call from the nurse saying that he lost his cool this afternoon. He was being verbally, then physically abusive to the staff. He threatened (or maybe actually tried - I'm not sure) to throw a chair through the window. He was banging his head against the walls again. They put him in the observation room for a while, and when he didn't calm himself down they gave him a sedative pill. He stayed in the observation room for another half hour, but did not sedate. It's like the sedative didn't work at all.

The unit nurse called us, talked to Superman at 6:30-ish. He was still in the observation room, not being calm. I called back about an hour later because I had questions for the nurse. All the nurses were busy, so I talked to one of the aides. He's a big guy named Leonard. Pretty tall, very broad, and very black. It's nice to have that kind of presence on a mental ward. Nice guy, too. Anyway, I got to talk to Sproing. He had calmed down enough to come out of isolation/observation, though Leonard said he was still being disrespectful.

So I talked to him. He sounded great. We had a very nice conversation. I told him that he'll be leaving there tomorrow. He was very excited about that.

The insurance company has approved his stay at the hospital there until tomorrow, so he'll transfer to a longer-term facility. Superman was on the phone for an hour or more this afternoon trying to get that arranged. Of the facilities we know about from info received from that hospital, only the one in North Charleston has an opening for him. North Charleston is really far from here! Superman made some more inquiries (mainly from the insurance company, I think) and he found out about a place that's a few miles north of Greenville. That's much closer to us. By the time he got that information, though, the people he needed to talk to at the current hospital had left for the day. First thing tomorrow he will make more calls. The boy might go to Charleston, or he might go to Greenville. Wherever he goes, he goes tomorrow. Superman is all anxious again.

I will be in school all day tomorrow and won't be able to go with him. I HOPE Sproing keeps his shit together for the trip.

So I talked to the boy this evening. I asked about his rough afternoon. But when I told him that he will leave there tomorrow he started talking about "being good." He says he'll be good so he can leave the hospital. So why was he so disruptive and violent today? Well, he tells me that he can decide to behave. Today he didn't want to. I totally believe him. I've seen him turn that kind of attitude around in 30 seconds when he is adequately motivated. The motivation is inconsistent, though. What works one day doesn't work another day.

I wonder if the good folks at the hospital can give the boy a sedative before he and Superman take off for the next place.

Light and I saw Sproing on Saturday. That's the day I picked up Light, dropped Twitch off at his school, then took Light down to Columbia to see the boy. We had a pretty good visit with Sproing for the first 10 minutes. He was talking about his plans for when he got out of the hospital. He planned to come home, stay home all day and play his P-ess-P and watch TV. Here at home, alone, unsupervised while his dad and I were out doing our daily things. Uh-uh. So I had to disabuse him of that notion. He didn't take it well. The visit deteriorated quickly. He got huffy and left the room.

What does it all mean? Is he making any improvements? Do the professionals even have a definitive diagnosis? Do they know what they're dealing with, exactly? Or even vaguely? The plan was for this hospital to stabilize him, then he'd move to another facility where he can stay for a longer time. How long? I've heard 3-6 months. Frankly, I think he needs a longer stay, but who really knows? Maybe after a few months he will move to yet another place for a more moderate level of management. He needs intensive management right now. Duh. 24/7 supervision for sure.

In other non-Sproing related news, I took my Monday quiz today in Psychotherapies class. I actually studied for this one! I mean like really, for more than just the two hours before class. I actually knew the answers and everything! It was great. I should have started studying a few days earlier than I actually did. Today I felt so good about the whole study-and-know-the-information thing that I started studying for next week's quiz today! I'm thrilled. I made note cards from today's lecture, then went back and made up a bunch of study note cards for the other class I had today. There's a test in that class next week, and I got started on it today. I feel so much like a student today! This is the groove I like to be in, the one that's been eluding me since the start of the semester. I still have a hideous amount of work to do in the other two classes, and I'm afraid to look at those now. But I will.

Last night I finished the play- and character- analyses that were due last Tuesday in my Theater class. I talked to the instructor last week, explained how my life was falling down around me, and asked for an extension on that assignment. She told me to take all the time I needed. Nice, and I appreciate it, but that was a tiny bit too much leeway. I work well with deadlines. (usually) I really could have had the assignment completed by last Thursday, but since the pressure wasn't on to get it done, I dawdled more than I should have. But I did finish it last night and took it to her office this morning. So it's done. Good for me.

We're going to try for a reasonable bedtime tonight. With that in mind, I'll leave you with this.

In the continuing saga...

Superman and I made the trip to Columbia again today, this time to meet with the counselor who works on the adolescent ward. They call this a "family meeting." First we talked with her, then Sproing joined us. His participation in the meeting was a somewhat milder rehash of yesterday's visit. He wasn't very cooperative. Neither of us expected anything different.

When Sproing was in the meeting, the counselor had all of us talk about some specific things we want to focus on. Of course Sproing wants to come home. So what do we need to address for that to happen? I told her that I want the boy to tell me the truth about things, rather than the near-constant lying which is his habit. I also want him to listen to me, to accept that I mean it when I tell him I love him and think he's smart and handsome. He doesn't have to agree with me about it, but he should not accuse me of lying when I say those things.

If he had anything to add to that list, I don't remember. He sat scrunched down in a chair on the other side of the room, hands folded across his chest and his forehead wrinkled in a combination of pout and frown. After a few minutes he turned his back to us and leaned against the door. The counselor invited him to leave when he refused to respond anymore.

The child had another "episode" this morning and had to be sedated. This time, however, he didn't fight the sedation. The episode involved him trying to pick on another child. There was some mutual aggravation, as I understand it. His response was inappropriate.

The counselor said that he is beginning to show his problem behavior. He's been generally nice most of the week, but as the honeymoon wears off, he's displaying the actions and attitudes for which he was put there to begin with. The staff needs to see him in all his confounding glory in order to know how to help him. They recognized the Oppositional Defiant Disorder pretty early.

All in all it was a very good meeting. Superman and I are both encouraged that the boy is acting out there the way he does here. We are vindicated!! We are affirmed! It isn't all in our imaginations. The really great thing is that these folks at the hospital are not shocked or surprised by his behavior. They've seen this kind of thing before. They know how to handle it. They know what to do! Well, I think they do. They're still assessing him. He has already been given some different medications, and I know that is one of the things he needed. He also needs a lot of behavioral and/or talk therapy.

He will only stay in this hospital for a week to ten days. None of us (except Sproing) think he'll be ready to come home after that. The counselor told us about three places in the state that provide the next level of care. It's longer-term, from three to six months, and has the high level of management that he needs. One of the things they mean by "high management" is 24/7 surveillance. He needs this in part because he is suicidal. Did I mention that he's been banging his head against the walls there in an attempt to kill himself? That's one of the behaviors for which they sedate him. He may or may not be over that in the next week. We shall see.

Superman feels much better today. Thank you all for your thoughts/prayers/encouragement. He is more hopeful than he's been in a very long time that our dear young son is now being adequately treated for his mental/emotional problems. And by extension, we receive treatment of sorts. Validation is excellent therapy!

I have a bunch of studying that I should do. There are a couple of assignments that need attention. It's 8:00 on this Friday night, and I'm exhausted. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I'm going to bed now.

Question:

VIP is popularly known as an acronym for Very Important Person. I've seen some variations of that, (e.g. Very Important Presbyterians) but the general impression is the same.

What else might VIP stand for?

Very Impressive Package

Vienna's Indecent Parade

Help me out here. I'm not good at this sort of thing.

And the beat goes on

We had Chinese take-out the other night. The fortune in my fortune cookie says "You are a happy man." You can imagine how thrilled I am to know this. Really, it's very reassuring.

Sproing entered the in-patient mental health facility on Monday evening. This place only allows visits on Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday evening from 6:00 until 7:30, and we can call him between 6:30 and 8:00 on the evenings that aren't open for visitation. So Tuesday I called him. He was asleep, having been sedated after losing his metaphorical shit. I called him Wednesday evening. We spoke for a short while until he got mad at me because I wouldn't take his PSP gaming device to him. He hung up on me.

This evening Superman and I drove the 70 miles to visit him. He gave us each a hug, and sat in his Daddy's lap for a while. The conversation proceeded in a downward spiral.

him: I want to go home.

us: We want you to come home, too, but we need you to get well, to be able to get along with others before you can come home.

him: I will be good. I won't get in fights, I won't vandalize property, and I won't steal things anymore.

us: That's what you always say, and we think you believe it, but we know that you need to get more help here before you are able to really do that.

him: I want to go home and play my game and pet Scheherazade.

us: And we will be glad when you are well enough to come home, but you aren't yet.

him: No you don't. You don't care anything about me. You are happy I'm gone.

us: We love you very much, and you are here to get help. This is not about punishment. You are here to get help controlling your emotions.

him: You don't love me. If you loved me you'd take me home. When can I go home?

us: We will talk to the doctor about when you might be able to go home.

him: No you won't. She will just say no, anyway. I don't care. I don't want to live with you anyway. You hate me. You think I'm ugly and stupid. You wasted your time coming here to see me.

us: We are glad we came. We want to see you, and are glad we get to see you.

him: No you're not. If you loved me you'd take me home.

us: We will take you home when you are well enough to go home.

him: I'm ready to go home now.

us: We will talk to the doctor about when you can leave this place.

him: No you won't. You celebrate because I am gone. You hate me. I'm stupid. You wasted your time coming to see me. I wish you would just go away.

et cetera

This is pretty much what I expected. It really was good to see him, though it was hard seeing the tears running down his cheeks. I know that if he came home now, things would not be better, and they could possibly be worse. We really don't know what to say to him.

Tomorrow afternoon we will be back at the hospital for a family meeting. We meet with someone on his treatment team. I'm not quite sure what she does. Is she one of the therapist/counselors? I don't know, but Superman and I will meet with her, and Sproing might be with us, too. I hope we can get some kind of clue about how to communicate with him. Right now we just argue in circles with him.

Y'all, Superman is having a really hard time with this. He is an engineer; very analytical, likes clear answers. He typically has an upbeat attitude. Right now he's depressed and overwhelmed. Of course that's a normal reaction, but these feelings are so foreign to him, and he's frustrated. I, on the other hand, am quite familiar with overwhelming depression. And right now I feel pretty positive. Sproing is finally getting the kind of medical/psychological attention he needs. We are getting help! So this time I'm the strong(er) one, and he's all kinds of vulnerable. Keep him in your thoughts and prayers, please.

The weekend is shaping up to be quite busy. Twitch goes back to school on Saturday. While Superman is at home with Diva, I'm taking Twitch, and we'll be swinging by Light's college to pick her up on the way. We'll drop off Twitch at his place, then head down to Columbia to see the poor little confined one. When he rejects us and sends us away, Light and I will continue back home. I mapped the route: 300 miles round trip. It's a good thing I like to drive.

I may not post for a few days, but I don't forget about you. I shall return.

So what happened?

Picking up from here...

Superman and I got to where Sproing was on Monday afternoon sometime close to 4:30. He was glad to see us, gave us hugs, etc. I loved on him a bit. He allowed me to! I want him to know that the rejection isn't malicious or personal. He has some problems, needs help, but that doesn't invalidate his existence. He is of the opinion, and has been for a long time, that he is ugly and stupid and doesn't deserve to live and should never have been born.

We put him in the car and I surreptitiously flipped the switch on the back doors to disable the handles from working on the inside. I was afraid he'd try to open the door and bolt. Indeed, he threatened to. While on the way back said he was going to open the car door and throw himself out so he would die. Was he serious? Does it matter? Just saying that indicates a troubled mind.

Let me back up a bit. When Superman and I left Greenwood I started making calls. (He was driving.) I talked to the school social worker, to my counselor, and I can't remember who else. The social worker (my personal hero, btw) was very concerned. She said that he needs serious intervention, and NOT to bring him back to Greenwood. He won't get help here, and frankly he's too dangerous, too shaken up to be let out of sight. She looked up a few places, called me back and gave me phone numbers of mental health hospitals with adolescent wards. I called one but they couldn't take any new patients, they are full with a waiting list.

I was just too freaked out to call any other place. But the social worker had mentioned a place adjacent to one of the hospitals in the Columbia metro area. (We had to go through Columbia to get to Sproing.) I didn't have that phone number, though, and didn't know where that (or any) hospital is. I'm not too familiar with the city.

Well, we were driving along, getting close to Columbia, the traffic was getting heavier, and Superman was stressing. Duh. We made a wrong turn. It was easy to fix; just go up here to this road, take that to over there, then hook up to the road we need. It only took us very slightly out of our way... or did it? Guess what we saw on the "wrong" road? The mental health facility! I said "LOOK! That's where we're stopping on our way back!"

And we did. But back to Sproing. We got him, stopped for gas, then went to Haus du Waffel. I had a hankerin' for pee-can waffles. All three of us were hungry. It was weird, though. We knew Sproing had to be protected from himself. We had to be very careful. We hovered. We sat in a booth with Sproing "locked" in on the other side of his Daddy. The boy couldn't move. Neither of us got farther than three feet from him, both of us ready to spring if he sprung.

Back in the car he talked about being glad to go home to play with Scheherazade and his PSP. No, honey, that isn't going to happen. He alternated that with vitriol, saying he hates us, we hate him, he's ugly and stupid (a common refrain), and he won't live in this house ever again. He'll just kill himself. Or run away. He wants to live in a cardboard box beside the highway. Superman started to "reason" with him, but I told him not to bother. There is no reasoning there. But then Sproing said he was glad to be going home from that stupid boys' home. And he hates us. The pendulum was swinging wide and fast. It was strong evidence that the boy is off his rocker, and reinforced our decision to take him to the hospital.

Which we did. We pulled into the parking lot and tried to get him to come with us. No such luck. So I drove around to the patient-drop-off circle and sent Superman in to retrieve strong-arm assistance. What they did instead was give him a clipboard of forms to fill out. Doesn't that sound just like a hospital? Sproing and I waited in the car (doors and windows locked). He fumed. He bounced off the seat, ceiling, doors of the back seat. He screamed. (It's a small car. The sound was nerve wracking.) He lay on the seat and kicked the door as hard as he could. I'm impressed with the strength of that door.

Superman finally came out and said we could go in. He had to pull Sproing out of the seat by his arms, and I got behind the boy and sort of hugged him while leading him to the door. He was like a caged animal once we got inside. We were in a tiny interview room with an intake social worker. Sproing was pacing, banging the walls, bouncing off the furniture, crawling on the floor. He crawled under my chair and hid for a while. That was as still as he got. Superman and I answered the nice lady's questions. When she had the low-down, she assured us that he would be admitted, but she had to call the doctor-on-call to make it official.

In the meantime (and after speaking to me out in the hall, away from the boy, to ask if she should) she put us into another tiny room behind the locked doors. It's a good thing she did, too, because at one point Sproing ran out of the room and tried to run through the doors to the lobby. It took a really long time. We probably waited an hour or more. The nurses on the adolescent ward weren't ready to process him until nearly 10:00. Sproing was their third intake of the evening. I guess there are lots of crazy young'uns in South Carolina.

During our wait Sproing calmed down a little bit. We had some positive interactions. He and Superman played the license plate word game* with letters Superman made up. He let me hold him and scratch his back. Then he bounced off the walls and kicked things.

We finally went to the ward. Superman and I had to sign a few consent forms for medications. By then Sproing had shut down. He sat slump-shouldered in a chair, no expression. I gave him a hug (he didn't resist) and told him we'd be there to visit on Thursday evening (the next visiting time). And we left. And though I'm exhausted, I feel good about the whole thing.

Addendum: I spoke with one of the nurses earlier this evening. She said he had a rough afternoon. He insisted that I was going to pick him up and take him home this evening. He took all of his clothes to the lounge area, put them in a chair beside the door, and tried to open the door. Of course it's locked. Then he banged on the door. Then banged his head on the door. Then threw his clothes in the garbage can. He was taken to the "observation room" where he continued beating his head against the door (or wall, I'm not sure which) and then threatened to kill himself. The nurse tried to give him a pill (some kind of chill pill thing) but he refused it. So they had to restrain him and give him the medicine by injection. Oooh, consequences! I wonder if he'll accept the pill next time. Anyhow, he was asleep when I called.

She asked me if this was the kind of behavior we've seen at home. Well, not quite, but close. He usually doesn't get quite that violent, but what she described is consistent with the type of things he does. Nothing she described surprises me.

They only allow visits on Thursday, Saturday and Sunday from 6:00 - 7:30, and the patients can receive phone calls on the other days of the week, but only from 6:30 to 8:00. Since he was sleeping when I called at 6:30, I'm going to call again after 7:30 to see if he can talk. I don't know what to expect.

*SC license plates are alpha-numeric, with three letters. The game is to think of a word that contains those three letters in that order. Sproing is surprisingly good at it.

Post Script: To answer Karen's question; fortuitously, Twitch is on quarter break from school, so he was here to take care of Diva while we took care of Sproing.

Just when I thought it was safe to breathe a sigh of relief...

All is not well. All is not well with the boy. Not at all.

In our last episode of Fun With Java's Psychotic Family, we saw Java take her 11.5 year old son Sproing to a residential boys' home.

So last Friday, September 25th, I drove 200 miles to the SC low country to take the boy to this lovely rural boys' home with a great reputation for taking care of troubled young'uns. As I alluded to in my last post, the weekend was strangely quiet with him gone. I wondered all weekend how he was holding up. Today after lunch I called the director's office to inquire about his weekend.

The director told me that Sproing had a good weekend. But, he was just about to call Sproing's Daddy because today (technically yesterday. Let's just call it Monday, shall we?) when the boys went into their classroom to do schoolwork, Sproing refused to cooperate. Strongly refused to cooperate. Adamantly refused to cooperate. OK, he threw a major conniption fit. The director and the psychiatrist observed him, tried to work with him, all to no avail. So Mr. Director was about to call Sproing's Daddy to tell him to come pick up the boy.

What??

"Come get him."

Can you feel all the hope, happiness, and relief rush out of my body? Can you see me deflate? Do you feel the tears well up in my eyes? Do you feel my stomach begin to churn, my heart thump a sickly rapid pace?

I couldn't speak. I could barely breath. He continued to rattle on about something, I have no idea what. I finally told him to call Sproing's Daddy. I believe the rest of my statement was unintelligible gibberish. Then I hung up.

So, I have a test in my next class, which begins in an hour. I still have a final bit of reading to do, and I need to look over my note cards. Sure. I went to the library, which was annoyingly crowded. I needed a secluded spot to pretend to study. No such luck. I found an empty study carrel along a long wall of occupied carrels. The few comfy chairs were all taken. I did sit there and read the rest of the chapter, though I can't remember much of what it said.

I got up, headed to class, called Superman. I would have called him earlier, but I just couldn't. I couldn't talk, you know? Not without deep wracking sobs, and I just don't feel comfortable doing that on a crowded college campus in the middle of the plaza. I felt sick. Anyway, I did finally talk to him, got all shaky, teared up but didn't sob (much). Then I walked into the classroom. The prof was already in the room, I walked up to him all jittery and shit with my sunglasses still on to hide my weepy eyes. I briefly told him what had happened. He's a clinical psychologist by training, and I'd already discussed the issues about Sproing with him. Gad, I could barely stand. I was shaking. He said "Listen, forget about the quiz. You need to go take care of this. Go on, it's OK." God love his soul.

Superman and I met at home, and decided to both go to pick up the boy. It was a good decision. It was a hard trip.

And we have been home now for almost an hour, and it's two minutes 'til 1:00 a.m. I have class tomorrow, my dad and step-mom are coming into town to visit us tomorrow, I'm tired, I have cried a lot, sweat a lot, worried a lot, driven a lot. I want to take a shower and go to bed.

There is more. We picked up the boy, but he isn't at home with us now. Stay tuned to read how we managed that. Hopefully I'll get back here to continue the saga before the end of tomorrow. (Technically today. Let's just call it Tuesday, shall we?)

And yet,

On the other hand, it's very peaceful around here today without Sproing's presence. Someone else gets to worry about him. Someone else gets to deal with his persistent vibration and unpredictable sudden rages. No one is tormenting Diva this morning. Although I am concerned about him, care about him and love him very much, I'm kinda glad he's not here now.

Parenting drama update

I did it. I took Sproing away and left him at the home for young ne'er-do-wells. It didn't quite kill me.

I last posted on Tuesday. Tuesday was a really bad day with him, but he pulled it together for Wednesday and Thursday. He spent all day Wednesday at school without the school having to call his parents. That's maybe the third day since school started that we haven't been contacted during the school day. On Wednesday afternoon Superman went to the school and officially withdrew him from the district's school system.

Thursday he spent all day until about 3:00 at the hospital undergoing a battery of psychological tests. Remember when Diva did all that a few months ago? Well, it's his turn now. We'll get the results summary in a couple of weeks. They will also send a copy to Sproing's new school.

I've been anxious and teary all week in anticipation of taking him to the boys' home. I actually began to cry in class yesterday. I pulled it together quickly, and I think no one but the sweet young woman who sits beside me even noticed. Today I was able to do what needed to be done, but I was sublimating my emotions. I'm really good at putting on a "proper" face for the kids (most of the time). My nerves have been on edge all day. I drove 9 or 10 hours today, because that's how long it takes to get out to the boys' home and back here. We spent an hour or so together once we got there. There were some papers I needed to fill out and/or sign. The director took us to Sproing's new "cottage" and we unpacked his stuff. He has some of his Hot- Match- (?) cars and the new pickup truck and camper I bought him yesterday. Don't you think the boy needs a new toy from his mama to take to that far-away boys' home? I do, too.

He will only be able to call home once a week. Tuesday evening is his cottage's call night. The boys are allowed to visit home one weekend a month, usually the first weekend. Since next weekend is the first in October, he won't be able to come home then. However, there's a family day the 4th Saturday of October when they will have some parenting classes and such-like, in addition to some play time for/with the boys. Superman and I are planning to go then, and take Diva to see the set-up (unless she gets placed in a home for wayward girls before then).

So, Java, how do you feel about all this? Weird. I feel not-quite-right. I've been very testy with Superman and Diva this evening. Twitch (home for term break right now) has been smart enough to stay out of my way. I know we are doing the right thing. But emotionally and/or subconsciously it feels wrong. Not the wrong thing to do, but wrong to have to do it.

Being the psychoanalytic sort that I am, I pay attention to my feelings, especially the odd ones that pop up when I am stressed. This evening I recognized that I feel the need to punish myself for sending my boy away. [No, of course it doesn't make sense. These things don't.] Realizing this now, I will be careful with other sorts of impulses that surface. I'll tell you this, though, it will be really hard for me to do anything nice for myself for a while.

Now that Sproing is safely tucked away in a good place where he can get the help he needs*, it's time to find someplace like that for Diva. Who knows what that will do to me? I might continue to freak, I might sing hallelujahs. I may do both. The dynamics of my relationship with her are different from how I feel about him. I love them both, but not the same because they are different from each other. I'm pretty sure there's some Mom-son vs. Mom-daughter dynamic going, too. Anyway, we shall see what we shall see.

Right now I'm going to chill out with my blogs, and/or watch this potentially interesting gay movie that Net Flikz sent me. TTFN

*I say it this way in a desperate attempt to convince my inner mommy.