Psychiatric Hospital #2, Day 1

Here we go again. Javan wasn’t stable when we pulled him from the last hospital,  so there was never really a good reason for us to believe that we could keep him home and return to our normal lives. But we wanted to believe it so bad, so we just did. It was easily apparent from the second he got home when his first action was stomping on a dog’s tail that things would just escalate to an impossible level again soon.

This time, though, they escalated further and in a different way than before. The final episode that led us to rehospitilization began when I laid down with him for our daily rest time. Now, he doesn’t always nap, but because of the unpredictable nature of his sleep patterns I do always require him to lay quietly for thirty minutes to an hour and that way if his body needs sleep it can find it. As you have guessed by now, it was a struggle. He fought verbally, kicked the headboard repeatedly, kicked me a few times, did anything he could think of to annoy or hurt me. Then he did the unthinkable. He threatened to kill himself by smothering. He grasped his own throat hard and choked himself.  He said he wanted to die and go live with Jesus in heaven because that would make me sad. I called my husband home and we sought counsel from the psychiatrist and from our parents. The vote was unanimous. Take him back in.

It felt like there was no right answer. We keep him home and he could hurt himself. We admit him to the hospital and someone else might hurt him. But we made the decision to admit him. The new hospital we took him to came highly recommend by a friend who’s little boy has been there several times. She felt like he was well treated there and that his time there really benefitted him. I really hope to say the same for my son in a few days.

Javan did well on the trip there and was able to stay calm. All that changed once we walked into the building. Daddy had to restrain him on the lobby floor while I filled out mountains of paperwork. I knew my mind was only half on what I was writing and really hoped I was providing accurate information. We waited for what seemed like a ridiculous amount of time, seeing as how my son’s sole purpose had become either cracking his head to make it bleed or biting his dad while having his arms and legs restrained. The intake nurse finally arrived carrying….more paperwork. She talked Javan down a little bit. She tried to show him that these people were good people and that they were going to treat him right. We then went through a long process of these approximate steps: Be led to and deposited in a room.Wait. See a human. Fill out more paperwork. Wash, rinse, repeat. Nearly four hours from the moment we walked in, we walked back out again. We had said our bittersweet goodbyes. Javan was calm and ready for bed. He had gone willingly to his room for some much needed sleep.

We don’t get to see him today. The best we can hope for is a phone call. Visitation is for an hour only every other day. That’s a tough pill for me to swallow. So we will see him tomorrow evening. I miss him with an unspeakable intensity. I hope he knows that. I hope he remembers how much we love him and want him to get better so we can have him home again.


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