Hospitalization #8, Days 1-3

We finally had to do it. We placed Javan in possible residential treatment at Terrell state hospital. I say possible because, while his regular psychiatrist recommended 1-3 months of treatment, it will ultimately boil down to what the hospital psychiatrist thinks is best and what the insurance is willing to cover.

Side note for parents considering Terrell: If you’ve been told you have to sign custody of your child over to the state for the duration of their stay, guaranteeing that they get on Medicare and you pay nothing, that is false. It may have been true at one time, but it is no longer. We were not asked to sign over custody. And we will have to pay expensive out of network fees with our insurance.

I know many of you assumed he was doing well since I haven’t blogged in so long, but really I just haven’t blogged because as he’s gotten older he’s also gotten more private and I wanted to respect his wishes for privacy. However, during hospitalization, blogging is the easiest and most effective way for me to communicate his progress and wellbeing to the masses that care about him.

We placed him in Terrell Wednesday afternoon, after a visit to his regular psychiatrist prompting us to do so. He had already urged us to take this action nearly two weeks prior, but I needed time to investigate options and come to terms with this reality.

The drive to the hospital was really hard. It was so difficult to get him there safely that at one point I dialed non-emergency police because we needed them to take him for us. Knowing that was happening, Javan was able to calm down enough to be safe with us for the rest of the trip. Dad had to drive, even though he’s suffered from an intractable migraine for the past four months that is so severe he hasn’t even been able to work. I sat in the back seat and held my boy. It’s what he needed and probably what I needed too.

Once there, Javan’s fear became so overwhelming that after the admitting psychiatrist interviewed me, he didn’t even bother with the usual interview with Javan. No need upsetting him further when he was obviously going to be admitted. His regular psychiatrist had told us it is very unusual to be able to just walk in and be admitted. You usually have to be put on the waiting list. But if it is seen as an emergency safety issue, it is illegal for them to turn us away. So we went knowing we might be turned away, but we were fairly sure they would have to accept him and they did.

We were then shuttled to the unit where he would be staying. The nurses were explaining rules to us and having me fill out paperwork WHILE Javan was clinging to me begging me not to sign, and feeling more betrayed with every paper I did sign. At one point, she was explaining to me that during short visits I could bring him special outside food, but only as much as he could eat during the visit as he couldn’t bring it back to the unit with him. She said, “So don’t bring like a dozen cupcakes, because he can’t finish that during your visit.” He pipes up in the middle of his meltdown, “HAVE YOU MET ME!?” Y’all. He wants that dozen cupcakes. That child.

She also called me later that evening, afraid that my son had TB, because when she’d tried to do the TB test, he said no he has to get the chest xrays instead. She said, kids don’t usually know chest xrays are the next step in diagnosing TB so she thought he might really have it! I was like, naw girl he just ain’t want you sticking him with that needle. She got a kick out of his trickery. I have absolutely no idea how he knows anything about TB.

We can call him every day at specific times. We called Thursday evening but all he could do was cry and beg to come home. He was so inconsolable that all I could do after a while was tell him I love him and hang up. I called the nurse’s station after that to ask some questions and I could hear him vomiting in the background because he’d worked himself up so much. She told me he hadn’t been eating.

So when we visited the next day, Friday, we bought him his very favorite food, an Arby’s chicken slider, apple turner, and a chocolate shake. Yes I know I spoil him. He didn’t eat it. He ate maybe two tiny bites of the slider, drank half the shake, and didn’t touch the turnover. They brought him dinner from the unit and he didn’t even look at it. His tummy hurt and he felt nauseous. He’s homesick, literally.

I will continue to call him every day, even though I know it will be more of the same. I know he feels abandoned there and I want him to know I think about him every minute of every day and I love him more than should be possible.

I really, really, hope that good will come of those for him and not just trauma.

End note: I’ve started making art and the morning after we left him there I made this art because I had feelings that needed a place to go.

My son has the most beautiful eyes on the planet. When he cries that much, something happens to them. It’s like they actually glow they’re so bright. I couldn’t help but notice their exquisite beauty during that time of intense suffering. My art falls extremely short of capturing the beauty of those eyes. I show him drowning in his tears, drowning in his sorrow. Reaching out for me to save him and watching me being whisked away from him by a dangerous stormy wind. I am reaching back, nearly falling out of the basket myself, knowing that I can’t rescue him. I want so bad to rescue him that it physically hurts. My only choice is to abandon him to the stormy seas, knowing he might drown. But it’s the only real chance I have to save him.

If you’d like to see more of my art, please like KristaBee Creations on Facebook.