The Psychiatric Hospital, Day 7

After another day of not hearing from anyone at the hospital,  we were super excited to visit Javan tonight, on what would be our last visitation before taking him home tomorrow!  That’s not exactly how things turned out though.

Upon seeing him and squeezing some hugs into him, we almost immediately saw that he had yet another mark on his neck, similar to the one from yesterday but on the opposite side. When we asked him about it, he said it was from being held down while receiving a shot. As the story unfolded, we learned that he had vomited a few times during and after breakfast and had gotten a shot to stop the vomiting.

I went down to the nurse’s station and asked about the incident. Yes, they told me, he did receive a shot of phenergan for the nausea. Phenergan. You know…the stuff that’s available as a pill, gel,  or supposotory. But, hey, why not go straight for the injection? To make matters worse, he got a fifteen minute timeout for taking a swing at the nurse who was giving him the shot. My anger must have shown clearly, because the nurse got pretty, ugly, in return. My words were something like this. ” He threw up…so you gave him a shot?  Did you offer him something orally first and he refused it? No!? Why not?  And THEN you gave him a FIFTEEN MINUTE timeout for freaking out about getting a shot?!” To which she replied. “No. He git a fifteen minute timeout for trying to hit a nurse. Anytime a child tries to hit a nurse, there has to be a negative consequence.” Unbefreakinglievable.

Two new nurses came in and inspected the marks on his neck and took pictures. The first marks, from yesterday, were made in the lab where he got his blood drawn…as it turns out, that’s a camera-free zone. How convenient. We’re not sure yet where the shot today was administered.  I will be even more highly suspicious, but not surprised, if it also occurred in a camera-free zone.  I was going to share our pictures on here, but some freak of technological malfunction forbids me from doing so. If you were viewing the pictures, you’d likely conclude that the marks aren’t very bad, but they shouldn’t be there at all.

We decided we were just going to pull him out of the hospital and take him home. If he ends up needing further care elsewhere, then we’re open to that. We had to call his hospital psychiatrist to discuss immediate discharge. The doctor wasn’t so sure…he wasn’t even sure about discharging him tomorrow since his behavior is still so erratic. He was concerned that Javan wouldn’t be safe or that we wouldn’t be safe. Valid concerns. But since we didn’t feel that Javan was necessarily as safe at the hospital as we’d hoped he would be, the doctor agreed to discharge him. Two and a half hours of paperwork and waiting and more paperwork and more waiting, and we were finally on the road home!

I gotta tell you, leaving there wasn’t quite the victory march I’d worked up in my head. I left feeling defeated. I’d imagined walking out of there at the end of a hard week feeling like it was worth it. It wasn’t. I’d imagined knowing that my son was better and more stable than he was when we admitted him. He’s not. I’d imagined knowing that we made the right choice. Instead, I’m left wondering if there ever will be another right choice.

Since he’s been home, he’s already stomped on a dog’s tail and thrown something at the cat. It’s 11:30 and he’s screaming and crying about not being tired and wanting to get up. We even gave him the chance to sleep in our bed tonight to help him settle back in to being home. No dice. So, was bringing him home right? No. Was leaving him in the hospital right? No. Um, see what I mean? No right choices. Only wrong and more wrong.

In a completely incongruous segway, because I’m to tired for congruousness and wording, here’s a picture of Javan being cute in his welcome home present: A Pikachu costume.

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