The Psychiatric Hospital, Day 5

Well, I guess it would have been ok to stop for lunch instead of deal with our hungry bellies until after the family therapy appointment. After waiting in the lobby for 20 minutes, the receptionist looked up our appointment and saw that it had been cancelled and rescheduled for an hour later. No one bothered to call us about the change. She didn’t seem surprised about that. The therapist who’s been working with Javan was out due to a dentist appointment, so we ended up doing family therapy with a lady who had literally never met our son. The first 20 minutes was just parent therapy, and then Javan joined us for the tail end of it. I felt like she genuinely wanted to give helpful advice, but she seemed as if she thought she knew more about our son and his needs than we do, which really doesn’t fly with me seeing as how I am with him 24/7 and have a pretty deep intellectual understanding of his conditions as well.  She seemed to want to focus solely on Javan’s autism and how it is the root cause of his primary difficulties, and we had to protest pretty vehemently that while his autism certainly effects him in areas like social interaction and regulating stimulation,  the primary focus of care right now needs to be identifying his psychiatric conditions and reaching mental stability.  Hallucinations, delusions, and the severe level of defiance and aggression present do not stem from autism and I truly believe that we cannot address the problems that stem from autism until he is mentally stable. It’s fruitless to try to work on social skills while he still intermittently desires to physically harm those near him.  She did look at the hospital psychiatrist’s notes and see that she has diagnosed him with “Impulse Control Disorder.” Um…ok. Is that a real diagnosis? I mean, he very obviously struggles with impulse control. But that as it’s own diagnosis? It’s not enough for me. She is going to see if they can order more psychological testing before he is released.

Our visit tonight was back in the children’s enhanced unit,  where they moved Javan and the other, uh…enhanced patients?…at some point today. Were we notified of this change? Of course not. Even though we specifically requested to be notified of changes such as this! And to boot, they moved him into a different room on the unit and with a different roommate than he had before. His new roommate?…Yeah. The ONLY kid on the unit who is AFRAID OF DOGS!!! We made the kid cry, ya’ll. Do they really not take into consideration that the more unnecessary changes they make, the worse he’s gonna do? The worse they’re all gonna do?

He was super happy the entire visit. He laughed a LOT. Remember the running bear hugs I told you about? It was like that, only replace the chair Dad was sitting in with the bed he sat on tonight. Meaning that every crash knocked him flat and then he had to sit back up holding 105 pounds. Somehow they kept that up for 30 minutes straight. Both father and son were sweating pretty freely and thoroughly happy at the conclusion of this activity. It was wonderful to watch and laugh with them. “Dad, look behind you (out the window), it’s a monarch butterfly!” CRASH! *hysterical laughter* “Dad, look, a pterodactyl!” CRASH *hysterical laughter* And on and on and on.

But then it was time to go, and things took a surprising plunge for the worse. He wasn’t just sad to see us go, he was having a complete and terrible meltdown. He was crying profusely, clutching at our clothing, begging us not to leave him there, begging us to take him home. The nurses were so gentle hearted and understanding that we were allowed to stay with him while one nurse took the other families back through the labyrinth of locked doors to the lobby.  But no matter what we said, we couldn’t calm him down. When the nurse came back from escorting the other families down, she tried to talk him down with us. Nothing worked. This went on for about ten minutes before we were finally told our time was up. He ran to the exit door and blocked the way, refusing to let us by, refusing to let us leave. We had to be lead out a different way while he wailed in protest.

We barely made it to the car before we both broke down. Then we sat in the parking lot for half an hour taking turns being the one to break down and the one to offer support. Finally, the phone rang. I had asked the nurse to call me when he’d calmed down. But it wasn’t her. It was our sweet Boy on the phone. He wanted to tell us that he’d calmed down and was ok now and that he loves us. And we got to tell him one more time how much we love him.

And now we just wait and hurt and hope. Keep hoping with us, Friends. Your support has held us in love and we know we don’t walk through this alone.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. jtsmithiv
    Aug 12, 2015 @ 07:05:47

    Reblogged this on Mr. Smith’s English I class.


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