Keith just left. He took Braden and a couple of friends to a Lacrosse game in Philadelphia. They'll be gone from now until about midnight. I have big plans. I'm going to mop the kitchen floor, make supper for me and JJ, then sit on my ass on the sofa. Woo hoo! I know how to live.
I'm starting to hate other families. Other mothers with kids, especially. At the grocery store I see them all smiley and happy. "Honey, what kind of fruit snacks should we get?" Shut the fuck up, I want to yell. But I just smile their way. The other day, I was at the bookstore and this man told his little girl, I'd guess about three or four, that she could pick out a book. She was looking around, all cute with her hair combed and matching barrettes, but couldn't decide between two books. "Can I get both, daddy?" "I don't know, sweetie. We'll see. Now daddy wants to go pick out his book." "I know," she said, "how bout if I don't get on your nerves while you're looking, I can get both." "Deal," he answered. I wanted to smack them both. Actually, I wanted to smack them both, then kick the little girl. How dare they have a normal happy life? I hate my brother for having a perfect daughter. I hate Tracee for playing in the snow with her kids. Hate hate hate.
This is what my life has come to, mopping and hating.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
"Doctor doctor, give me the news...."
Sunday night, we had another knock-out, drag down battle. We wound up taking Braden to the emergency room. The emergency room recommended by his doctor.
We got there around 8:00, and sat in the waiting room for 3 1/2 hours. A waiting room full of puking, coughing, injured people. By this time, of course, Braden was completely calm. He was completely calm when we left for the hospital. Finally, we were called back to triage (?).
We explained the situation, and that we were hoping there was some sort of crisis counselor there we could speak with. They took us back to the emergency psyche ward, where we waited another half an hour. Then they came and took Braden, and said he would have to change into a hospital gown. You should have seen the look on his face, it was heartbreaking.
A short time later (I say a short time, because it wasn't long, but it felt like an eternity), they came and got us. We had to lock our belongings in a locker before we were allowed to go back. They took us to a room that was completely empty except for a bed. A bed with just a white sheet on it. On the bed, sitting cross-legged, crying and rocking was Braden in a huge hospital gown, pajammas that had to be rolled ten times at the waist and these fuzzy brown socks. I don't know why I focused on the socks, but the image of them keeps coming back to me. I never saw a sight so sad in my life. He was petrified. We were petrified. We waited there about another half an hour. They wanted to take blood, which completely freaks Braden out. He said he didn't want them to. They said they'd wait for the doctor, because they weren't positive it would be needed.
Then they left.
A little while later, we were sitting there talking, and Keith suggested that Braden just let them go ahead and take the blood now, so if the doctor came in, it wouldn't take as long. Braden banged his hands on the mattress and said he didn't want a needle if he didn't have to have one. It wasn't loud, it wasn't violent, it was on a mattress. A nurse came charging in, "Brandon, what seems to be the problem here?" I said, "His name is Braden." She said, "Oh, Brandon, what are you doing. If you can't control yourself, your parents are going to have to leave, and you don't want that." Braden didn't say anything. "Did you hear me, Brandon? One more outburst, and they're leaving and you'll wait here by yourself. Am I understood, Brandon?" At this point, Braden and I both looked at her and yelled, "The name is Braden!" She said, "Braden, whatever" then turned around and walked away.
We sat there, and my immediate reaction was that there was no way I'd leave him there.
About twenty minutes later, a doctor came in. A resident, actually. She asked Braden what happened, and if it happened often. He told her. She asked us if we were afraid he'd harm himself, we said no. She asked us if we were afraid for ourselves. I said, "you mean besides being punched, hit and kicked during these episodes? Are we afraid to go to sleep because he might stab us during the night?" "That's what I mean," she said. "No," we both answered. "Then I see no reason to keep him. He can go home. Call his doctor tomorrow."
Then she left. A couple of minutes later, the attending doctor came in, asked the exact same questions, and seconded her opinion. We were given our stuff back, Braden changed his clothes and we were on our way.
We got home at 2:30 in the morning. We wasted all that time. We didn't get one ounce of help. I felt worse going home than when we were driving there.
I still keep picturing him sitting there in that bed, with those tan socks on.
We've had three bad days since then, but so far today's going well.
I think I've figured out why we get several good days in a row, then all hell breaks loose again. And, it's not God playing some mean sort of trick on us, as I usually think. It must be the cycle of his bipolar. He used to cycle very quickly. Ups and downs throughout the day. Now, he must be cycling in days. Three or four good ones, and then a couple bad. Then some good, and so on and so on.
I'm supposed to take him for blood work tomorrow morning, so wish me luck. That's never an easy thing to do. He's been getting blood tests since he was about four, and it gets harder each time. I'll probably wind up bribing him.
Maybe I'll tell him I'll get him some tan socks.
We got there around 8:00, and sat in the waiting room for 3 1/2 hours. A waiting room full of puking, coughing, injured people. By this time, of course, Braden was completely calm. He was completely calm when we left for the hospital. Finally, we were called back to triage (?).
We explained the situation, and that we were hoping there was some sort of crisis counselor there we could speak with. They took us back to the emergency psyche ward, where we waited another half an hour. Then they came and took Braden, and said he would have to change into a hospital gown. You should have seen the look on his face, it was heartbreaking.
A short time later (I say a short time, because it wasn't long, but it felt like an eternity), they came and got us. We had to lock our belongings in a locker before we were allowed to go back. They took us to a room that was completely empty except for a bed. A bed with just a white sheet on it. On the bed, sitting cross-legged, crying and rocking was Braden in a huge hospital gown, pajammas that had to be rolled ten times at the waist and these fuzzy brown socks. I don't know why I focused on the socks, but the image of them keeps coming back to me. I never saw a sight so sad in my life. He was petrified. We were petrified. We waited there about another half an hour. They wanted to take blood, which completely freaks Braden out. He said he didn't want them to. They said they'd wait for the doctor, because they weren't positive it would be needed.
Then they left.
A little while later, we were sitting there talking, and Keith suggested that Braden just let them go ahead and take the blood now, so if the doctor came in, it wouldn't take as long. Braden banged his hands on the mattress and said he didn't want a needle if he didn't have to have one. It wasn't loud, it wasn't violent, it was on a mattress. A nurse came charging in, "Brandon, what seems to be the problem here?" I said, "His name is Braden." She said, "Oh, Brandon, what are you doing. If you can't control yourself, your parents are going to have to leave, and you don't want that." Braden didn't say anything. "Did you hear me, Brandon? One more outburst, and they're leaving and you'll wait here by yourself. Am I understood, Brandon?" At this point, Braden and I both looked at her and yelled, "The name is Braden!" She said, "Braden, whatever" then turned around and walked away.
We sat there, and my immediate reaction was that there was no way I'd leave him there.
About twenty minutes later, a doctor came in. A resident, actually. She asked Braden what happened, and if it happened often. He told her. She asked us if we were afraid he'd harm himself, we said no. She asked us if we were afraid for ourselves. I said, "you mean besides being punched, hit and kicked during these episodes? Are we afraid to go to sleep because he might stab us during the night?" "That's what I mean," she said. "No," we both answered. "Then I see no reason to keep him. He can go home. Call his doctor tomorrow."
Then she left. A couple of minutes later, the attending doctor came in, asked the exact same questions, and seconded her opinion. We were given our stuff back, Braden changed his clothes and we were on our way.
We got home at 2:30 in the morning. We wasted all that time. We didn't get one ounce of help. I felt worse going home than when we were driving there.
I still keep picturing him sitting there in that bed, with those tan socks on.
We've had three bad days since then, but so far today's going well.
I think I've figured out why we get several good days in a row, then all hell breaks loose again. And, it's not God playing some mean sort of trick on us, as I usually think. It must be the cycle of his bipolar. He used to cycle very quickly. Ups and downs throughout the day. Now, he must be cycling in days. Three or four good ones, and then a couple bad. Then some good, and so on and so on.
I'm supposed to take him for blood work tomorrow morning, so wish me luck. That's never an easy thing to do. He's been getting blood tests since he was about four, and it gets harder each time. I'll probably wind up bribing him.
Maybe I'll tell him I'll get him some tan socks.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Thursday morning I got a call at work from Braden's guidance councelor (that's probably spelled wrong, I always get that word mixed up). My immediate thought was, "Fuck, Braden flipped out at school." I was wrong. Braden went to her first thing in the morning and told her everything that's been going on. He told her everything...didn't sugar coat it at all. He told her that he can "feel" these episodes coming on, yet he couldn't do anything about them. He said that sometimes something triggers them, but other times they just happen out of the blue. They talked about the different stages of anger, and he said he recognizes all of them, but they just happen too quick to do anything about them. He told her the whole time he's building up, he's telling himself to cool off, to calm down, but his body won't listen to him. She offered him a few suggestions, like running around outside without a coat on for ten minutes or so, or talking to us about getting a heavy bag that he can punch and kick. She gave him carte blanche to come and see her anytime to talk. She told me that Braden seems to be one of the nicest kids at school. The students have to take a guidance class in 7th grade, and he was one of her favorites. He never laughed at anyone else for saying anything, and he always raised his hand with questions and comments that were relative to what they talked about. She called me to confirm what he'd said, and to see if Keith and I were okay. She was very nice to talk to, and said she'd look into this and see if she could offer any other "release" suggestions for Braden. Also, she said what I've been thinking for years...how frustrating it is for Braden to be in his learning support classes...he's so close to not needing them, and he knows that. Some kids, that are way, way behind, don't even seem to notice that they're in a "sped class" as he puts it. But, it bothers him a lot, and I think that's part of the reason for these blow ups at home.
This was a very big move for Braden, who usually refuses to speak about what happens because he gets very emotional and feels terrible about it. Let alone to talk to someone who doesn't already know about it. I was proud of him.
I know it won't last, but the past couple of days he's been talking through his feelings more. He's telling me that he's beginning to get "tingly", so then we switch activities...he'll help me cook, or we'll run around the house a bit. Also, he hates to read, always has, but loves a good story. His reading teacher went to a library in her town and got him a book that he's been wanting to read, but will never get because it's "too long", on CD. It's a kit with the book and the cd's. He'll sit at the computer, with the CD on, and the book in front of him for a good hour, and it's very calming for him.
I've applied for an access card (kind of like dissability insurance) for Braden, so we can get what they call Family Based Services, where a therapist comes to the house to work with the kid and the rest of the family on dealing with this. They're also on call, so they can come during a meltdown, if need be. Hopefully the process for this won't be too drawn out.
Someone asked before what JJ does when these episodes occur. A lot of the time he's not home, he's at basketball practice or something. But when he is, he just goes up to his bedroom and closes the door. I'm sure they make him very uncomfortable. We've talked about it with him, and he says, "Miss, where I come from, I've seen much worse. Don't worry about me, just try to help Braden." He's been doing very well. In fact, he's going to the regular high school for half-days, and will be going full time in about a month. His teacher where I work has nothing but great things to say about him. Every week I notice more and more change in him. He talks to us about things, he becomes more a part of this wild, intense, crazy family. We're very proud of him.
Right this second, I'm feeling proud of both of them.
But, being teenagers, that might change next week. Or five minutes from now.
This was a very big move for Braden, who usually refuses to speak about what happens because he gets very emotional and feels terrible about it. Let alone to talk to someone who doesn't already know about it. I was proud of him.
I know it won't last, but the past couple of days he's been talking through his feelings more. He's telling me that he's beginning to get "tingly", so then we switch activities...he'll help me cook, or we'll run around the house a bit. Also, he hates to read, always has, but loves a good story. His reading teacher went to a library in her town and got him a book that he's been wanting to read, but will never get because it's "too long", on CD. It's a kit with the book and the cd's. He'll sit at the computer, with the CD on, and the book in front of him for a good hour, and it's very calming for him.
I've applied for an access card (kind of like dissability insurance) for Braden, so we can get what they call Family Based Services, where a therapist comes to the house to work with the kid and the rest of the family on dealing with this. They're also on call, so they can come during a meltdown, if need be. Hopefully the process for this won't be too drawn out.
Someone asked before what JJ does when these episodes occur. A lot of the time he's not home, he's at basketball practice or something. But when he is, he just goes up to his bedroom and closes the door. I'm sure they make him very uncomfortable. We've talked about it with him, and he says, "Miss, where I come from, I've seen much worse. Don't worry about me, just try to help Braden." He's been doing very well. In fact, he's going to the regular high school for half-days, and will be going full time in about a month. His teacher where I work has nothing but great things to say about him. Every week I notice more and more change in him. He talks to us about things, he becomes more a part of this wild, intense, crazy family. We're very proud of him.
Right this second, I'm feeling proud of both of them.
But, being teenagers, that might change next week. Or five minutes from now.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
We almost took Braden to the hospital last night, to have him involuntarily admitted. The last three incidents that happened were totally unprovoked. Nothing happened to set him off. He just started throwing things, then throwing things at us, then hitting, then...well, you know.
Last night he was screaming and crying and sweating like some kind of wild animal. I called a childline help number (on a card that Braden had brought home from school). They told me to call his doctor, who would call me back if he were on call, and call ahead to the hospital. I did all this. I put on my coat, Keith put on his, I put a blanket and Braden's shoes in the car. We carried Braden out to the car, but he kept kicking at the window and the seats...there was no way we would have made it to the hospital.
Our only option would have been to call an ambulance. If an ambulance would have come, they would have had to put him in a straight jacket. I couldn't bear it. I was crying, Braden was crying. "Please mommy, no hospital. Please mommy. I'll try harder. I promise." No matter how much I insisted it wasn't a punishment, that's what it felt like.
I admire people who could have made that call. I'm not one of them. The thought of him crying/screaming in a cold hospital, probably having to be strapped to a bed is more than I can take right this minute. If he gets admitted to a hospital, so many things for him would change. At school, they'd surely move him to a partial, which would be awful for him. Part of me knows that this is what he needs, but the other part of me keeps hoping that we can fix this on our own.
We all can't go on like this, yet I can't cross the line to commit him to a hospital. I don't know what to do. I'm weak.
Last night he was screaming and crying and sweating like some kind of wild animal. I called a childline help number (on a card that Braden had brought home from school). They told me to call his doctor, who would call me back if he were on call, and call ahead to the hospital. I did all this. I put on my coat, Keith put on his, I put a blanket and Braden's shoes in the car. We carried Braden out to the car, but he kept kicking at the window and the seats...there was no way we would have made it to the hospital.
Our only option would have been to call an ambulance. If an ambulance would have come, they would have had to put him in a straight jacket. I couldn't bear it. I was crying, Braden was crying. "Please mommy, no hospital. Please mommy. I'll try harder. I promise." No matter how much I insisted it wasn't a punishment, that's what it felt like.
I admire people who could have made that call. I'm not one of them. The thought of him crying/screaming in a cold hospital, probably having to be strapped to a bed is more than I can take right this minute. If he gets admitted to a hospital, so many things for him would change. At school, they'd surely move him to a partial, which would be awful for him. Part of me knows that this is what he needs, but the other part of me keeps hoping that we can fix this on our own.
We all can't go on like this, yet I can't cross the line to commit him to a hospital. I don't know what to do. I'm weak.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
"Our house, was our castle and our keep"
Thanks everyone for your words of encouragement in my last post.
I've given it all a great deal of consideration, and have sent Braden off to boarding school. A very strict one. Until he starts "behaving" he'll be fed nothing but bread and water. We're not allowed any contact with him for six months, so my life will be a breeze. Also, I made Keith beg for sex for about three hours last night, and just when he thought I was about to give in, I told him that I want a divorce. So, thanks to all the helpful advice I've received here, my life is looking on the sunny side for once. You people should get paid for this! Some of you in particular, and you know who you are - don't be modest, should start an advice column in a highly circulated newspaper. Who knows what it could lead to.
Seriously, though...
I've been doing a lot of online research about these rages. As I mentioned before, we've been experimenting with medicine...however, we just keep changing his bipolar medicine (and when I say we keep experimenting, it's not that he's changed pills fifty times, he's only had two changes...we just change doses...but, you have to wait weeks each time before you can really see if it's making a difference). We haven't tweaked his ADHD medicine because that's been working great for him. Very little fidgeting and off-task behavior at school. But, I read that sometimes the stimulant in these medicines can cause these rages in kids with a dual-diagnosis. So, I took it upon myself to stop giving Braden his afternoon Concerta, and other than the episode early Wednesday afternoon, he's been much improved. His whole general mood is better. He's bouncing around quite a bit, and much more talkative than usual, but his anger/frustration has been in check. And today, since it's the weekend, I only gave him half of his usual morning doseage. Last night, for exampple, he wanted to go to a friend's house, but it was snowing and I said I wasn't going to take him anywhere. He stormed out of the room saying, "you suck". But, five minutes later, he came back in and said he was sorry for getting so angry. So far, so good. I know it's only been two and a half days, but I have a good feeling about this. He's been saying please and thank you. He's been accepting no with just the slightest arguement (and show me a 13 year old that doesn't give that), and he just doesn't seem as "on edge" as he's been. My fingers are crossed that it keeps going that way. We'll have to see.
If this change continues to show promise, and he becomes more stabilized, we can start working on the small things that we've been letting slide. And, the way I feel right now, if his teachers start complaining that he has a hard time staying in his seat, or staying focused...tough shit. Deal with it.
Anyway, I'm feeling much better about things right now. My guard isn't down, but it's just on stand-by. I can feel my shoulders relaxing a bit.
Thanks again for listening, it means a lot.
I've given it all a great deal of consideration, and have sent Braden off to boarding school. A very strict one. Until he starts "behaving" he'll be fed nothing but bread and water. We're not allowed any contact with him for six months, so my life will be a breeze. Also, I made Keith beg for sex for about three hours last night, and just when he thought I was about to give in, I told him that I want a divorce. So, thanks to all the helpful advice I've received here, my life is looking on the sunny side for once. You people should get paid for this! Some of you in particular, and you know who you are - don't be modest, should start an advice column in a highly circulated newspaper. Who knows what it could lead to.
Seriously, though...
I've been doing a lot of online research about these rages. As I mentioned before, we've been experimenting with medicine...however, we just keep changing his bipolar medicine (and when I say we keep experimenting, it's not that he's changed pills fifty times, he's only had two changes...we just change doses...but, you have to wait weeks each time before you can really see if it's making a difference). We haven't tweaked his ADHD medicine because that's been working great for him. Very little fidgeting and off-task behavior at school. But, I read that sometimes the stimulant in these medicines can cause these rages in kids with a dual-diagnosis. So, I took it upon myself to stop giving Braden his afternoon Concerta, and other than the episode early Wednesday afternoon, he's been much improved. His whole general mood is better. He's bouncing around quite a bit, and much more talkative than usual, but his anger/frustration has been in check. And today, since it's the weekend, I only gave him half of his usual morning doseage. Last night, for exampple, he wanted to go to a friend's house, but it was snowing and I said I wasn't going to take him anywhere. He stormed out of the room saying, "you suck". But, five minutes later, he came back in and said he was sorry for getting so angry. So far, so good. I know it's only been two and a half days, but I have a good feeling about this. He's been saying please and thank you. He's been accepting no with just the slightest arguement (and show me a 13 year old that doesn't give that), and he just doesn't seem as "on edge" as he's been. My fingers are crossed that it keeps going that way. We'll have to see.
If this change continues to show promise, and he becomes more stabilized, we can start working on the small things that we've been letting slide. And, the way I feel right now, if his teachers start complaining that he has a hard time staying in his seat, or staying focused...tough shit. Deal with it.
Anyway, I'm feeling much better about things right now. My guard isn't down, but it's just on stand-by. I can feel my shoulders relaxing a bit.
Thanks again for listening, it means a lot.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)