Followed up with the PCP today. Urinalysis showed 3+ blood in his urine. STILL. So we now have a referral to a kidney specialist. EKG showed bradychardia and he has been referred to a cardiologist.
Yippee.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Interesting Stories
Read here about a sensory learning program:
Transcranial magnetic stimulation:
"Brain Pacemaker Tickles Happy Nerve" (aka VNS)
Transcranial magnetic stimulation:
"Brain Pacemaker Tickles Happy Nerve" (aka VNS)
Monday, May 28, 2007
Annie's Song
Yesterday my girlfriend and my husband and I went to take the plastic winter cover off our boat, erect the canvas and take inventory of what was still on board and what we still need to find in order to start our boating season next weekend. Stepping on the boat yesterday brought back wonderful memories of when we first bought her (used) in 2001 and the slapstick comedy of her maiden voyage. (She's a 1989 2655 Bayliner Ciera.) We had owned a boat previously (21' cuddy cabin) so we had, what we thought at the time, enough knowledge to get us from Point A to Point B without much difficulty. Uh yeah. Then reality set in.
By the time our family of six got the boat loaded and organized to set sail, it was pretty late. We tucked the kids down below and off we went. The broker we bought the boat from had parked our boat in a slip in a marina full of really expensive boats. Some of them were really pretty. Because the shifter on our boat was not working properly (worked fine when we test drove her) and it was really windy, we almost came to know a few of those pretty boats intimately.
After much maneuvering and "oh shit's", Henry wound up backing us out of the smooth water of the marina to the lake where the water was rough and the wind was howling. It was going to be a long night.
At some point in our voyage in started raining heavily and Henry made the decision that he just could not drive anymore and we started looking for a place to tie up to get some rest before continuing on to our marina in Port Huron. In the dark we found a dock, tied her up and went below to get some sleep where we discovered that the blankets covering our kids were soaking wet and the hatches were leaking as if they had been left wide open. (They were firmly closed.)
After Henry and I got some rest, it was daylight now, we untied the boat and set sail for our marina. I don't remember anything significant happening during this portion of our trip but what happened once we got to the marina and were trying to park our boat in our slip is etched deeply in my brain.
By the time we pulled into the marina it was pouring rain again -- and I do mean pouring. Our slip was located next to a metal retaining wall so I was dispatched to the bow to keep us from colliding with it. So I'm standing on the bow of this boat, in a bright yellow raincoat (boaters term: foul weather gear), sweatpants that were soaking wet, no shoes and armed with a dock pole. We're slowly cruising up the dockway to our slip and as we get close Henry throws the shifter in reverse. Unknown to us at the time, the cotter pin holding the propeller on the shaft didn't exist so the propeller fell off. (The cruise up the lake/river in forward gear was enough to keep the prop on the shaft.) We had just enough residual cruising speed and momentum that we slammed into the retaining wall, bending the bow rail.
Standing on my tip toes, reaching high over my head, I grab the edge of the retaining wall to keep us from going anywhere. Oh, and it's still pouring down rain. After what seemed like an eternity marina staff finally showed up to help us get her the rest of the way in the slip and tied off. We instantly (we found out later) became the Beverly Hillbillies of B dock. Several of our dock mates thought we were drunk and until we could get the Lexan replaced in the hatches we had to cover the bow of our boat with a blue tarp. How very attractive! So that was our maiden voyage.
Our home, for the first four boating seasons, was only about a half-hour drive so our choice of marina was pretty convenient. Plus they had a lot of nice amenities: heated swimming pool, showers, jacuzzi, basketball courts. And an even bigger bonus to our choice of location was the easy access to Lake Huron.
Stepping on the boat yesterday also flung me back in time to August 2004 when I tried to overdose and our boat sat in its well in Port Huron unused and neglected. When we put "her" (Her name is "Annie's Song") in storage for the winter that year and we couldn't have imagined she would stay in dry dock for two years as our lives spun seemingly out of control.
The fall and winter of 2004 I was in and out of psychiatric hospitals and undergoing ECT's. Hunter was also in and out of psychiatric hospitals as we tried to find medication to shorten the width of his mood swings and quiet the voices in his head.
The summer of 2005 came and went and Hunter was in a residential facility. He was a danger to himself and other's and it was our only hope. Visiting times at (and the location of) that facility were not convenient (of course) but I visited him at every opportunity given. I missed a lot of work and put a lot of miles on my car during that last hospitalization (that lasted 206 days). I was also still struggling with finding the right medication for myself and we, Henry and I, didn't think we had what it would take to put the boat in the water and actually use it.
Spring 2006 came along and we thought long and hard again about whether or not we could justify putting the time, money and effort in to putting the boat in the water vs. how much we would actually use it. It was a tough decision to keep her on land for another season but the decision in hindsight, was the right one.
This spring the question came up again of "do we" or "don't we" or "do we sell?" The marina we used originally was no longer convenient because we had moved and it would have taken about an hour and a half to get there. So I suggested we put her in the lake about 20 minutes from our house -- which is where we kept our smaller boat.
Henry gave it some thought and decided it was a great idea so we found a marina, picked a well and next weekend our boating season will officially start. Our family has great memories of the lake where our boat will be. There are several small islands, the water is much warmer than Lake Huron and it's three hours closer to Cedar Point than Port Huron. :-)
(I highly recommend driving a boat to Cedar Point and parking it in their marina. It is a awesome ride, inexpensive to dock (around $40, includes water and electricity) and you get in the park an hour earlier than the general public. Another cool thing is going up the Millennium roller coaster, looking down and seeing your boat sitting in the marina.)Because most things come full circle, the marina we chose for this season is the same marina we set sail from on our maiden voyage.
Standing on the deck of "Annie's Song" again felt like coming home. I didn't realize how much I missed the comfort of her until I was standing in the galley overwhelmed with so many happy memories and funny adventures we, as a family, have had with her. That first season it seemed that every time we took her out onto Lake Huron it would rain or hail. It was always clear, blue skies when we left dock (and the marine forecast always told us what we could see) in the blink of an eye we would find ourselves in a horrible storm. One storm produced golf ball sized hail.
One Fourth of July we took the boat up Lake Huron and anchored out from a town called Lexington. It was the most spectacular celebration I have ever seen. From our spot on the lake we were able to see fireworks from several surround communities in addition to private firework shows up and down the beach. It was truly breathtaking.
Henry and I spent our wedding night (June 30, 2002) anchored on Lake Huron sleeping on an air mattress on the stern's deck, under the stars. I still have the "Just Married" flag I bought and we flew proudly from our boat for the rest of the summer.
So, "Annie's Song", welcome home. I missed you.
By the time our family of six got the boat loaded and organized to set sail, it was pretty late. We tucked the kids down below and off we went. The broker we bought the boat from had parked our boat in a slip in a marina full of really expensive boats. Some of them were really pretty. Because the shifter on our boat was not working properly (worked fine when we test drove her) and it was really windy, we almost came to know a few of those pretty boats intimately.
After much maneuvering and "oh shit's", Henry wound up backing us out of the smooth water of the marina to the lake where the water was rough and the wind was howling. It was going to be a long night.
At some point in our voyage in started raining heavily and Henry made the decision that he just could not drive anymore and we started looking for a place to tie up to get some rest before continuing on to our marina in Port Huron. In the dark we found a dock, tied her up and went below to get some sleep where we discovered that the blankets covering our kids were soaking wet and the hatches were leaking as if they had been left wide open. (They were firmly closed.)
After Henry and I got some rest, it was daylight now, we untied the boat and set sail for our marina. I don't remember anything significant happening during this portion of our trip but what happened once we got to the marina and were trying to park our boat in our slip is etched deeply in my brain.
By the time we pulled into the marina it was pouring rain again -- and I do mean pouring. Our slip was located next to a metal retaining wall so I was dispatched to the bow to keep us from colliding with it. So I'm standing on the bow of this boat, in a bright yellow raincoat (boaters term: foul weather gear), sweatpants that were soaking wet, no shoes and armed with a dock pole. We're slowly cruising up the dockway to our slip and as we get close Henry throws the shifter in reverse. Unknown to us at the time, the cotter pin holding the propeller on the shaft didn't exist so the propeller fell off. (The cruise up the lake/river in forward gear was enough to keep the prop on the shaft.) We had just enough residual cruising speed and momentum that we slammed into the retaining wall, bending the bow rail.
Standing on my tip toes, reaching high over my head, I grab the edge of the retaining wall to keep us from going anywhere. Oh, and it's still pouring down rain. After what seemed like an eternity marina staff finally showed up to help us get her the rest of the way in the slip and tied off. We instantly (we found out later) became the Beverly Hillbillies of B dock. Several of our dock mates thought we were drunk and until we could get the Lexan replaced in the hatches we had to cover the bow of our boat with a blue tarp. How very attractive! So that was our maiden voyage.
Our home, for the first four boating seasons, was only about a half-hour drive so our choice of marina was pretty convenient. Plus they had a lot of nice amenities: heated swimming pool, showers, jacuzzi, basketball courts. And an even bigger bonus to our choice of location was the easy access to Lake Huron.
Stepping on the boat yesterday also flung me back in time to August 2004 when I tried to overdose and our boat sat in its well in Port Huron unused and neglected. When we put "her" (Her name is "Annie's Song") in storage for the winter that year and we couldn't have imagined she would stay in dry dock for two years as our lives spun seemingly out of control.
The fall and winter of 2004 I was in and out of psychiatric hospitals and undergoing ECT's. Hunter was also in and out of psychiatric hospitals as we tried to find medication to shorten the width of his mood swings and quiet the voices in his head.
The summer of 2005 came and went and Hunter was in a residential facility. He was a danger to himself and other's and it was our only hope. Visiting times at (and the location of) that facility were not convenient (of course) but I visited him at every opportunity given. I missed a lot of work and put a lot of miles on my car during that last hospitalization (that lasted 206 days). I was also still struggling with finding the right medication for myself and we, Henry and I, didn't think we had what it would take to put the boat in the water and actually use it.
Spring 2006 came along and we thought long and hard again about whether or not we could justify putting the time, money and effort in to putting the boat in the water vs. how much we would actually use it. It was a tough decision to keep her on land for another season but the decision in hindsight, was the right one.
This spring the question came up again of "do we" or "don't we" or "do we sell?" The marina we used originally was no longer convenient because we had moved and it would have taken about an hour and a half to get there. So I suggested we put her in the lake about 20 minutes from our house -- which is where we kept our smaller boat.
Henry gave it some thought and decided it was a great idea so we found a marina, picked a well and next weekend our boating season will officially start. Our family has great memories of the lake where our boat will be. There are several small islands, the water is much warmer than Lake Huron and it's three hours closer to Cedar Point than Port Huron. :-)
(I highly recommend driving a boat to Cedar Point and parking it in their marina. It is a awesome ride, inexpensive to dock (around $40, includes water and electricity) and you get in the park an hour earlier than the general public. Another cool thing is going up the Millennium roller coaster, looking down and seeing your boat sitting in the marina.)Because most things come full circle, the marina we chose for this season is the same marina we set sail from on our maiden voyage.
Standing on the deck of "Annie's Song" again felt like coming home. I didn't realize how much I missed the comfort of her until I was standing in the galley overwhelmed with so many happy memories and funny adventures we, as a family, have had with her. That first season it seemed that every time we took her out onto Lake Huron it would rain or hail. It was always clear, blue skies when we left dock (and the marine forecast always told us what we could see) in the blink of an eye we would find ourselves in a horrible storm. One storm produced golf ball sized hail.
One Fourth of July we took the boat up Lake Huron and anchored out from a town called Lexington. It was the most spectacular celebration I have ever seen. From our spot on the lake we were able to see fireworks from several surround communities in addition to private firework shows up and down the beach. It was truly breathtaking.
Henry and I spent our wedding night (June 30, 2002) anchored on Lake Huron sleeping on an air mattress on the stern's deck, under the stars. I still have the "Just Married" flag I bought and we flew proudly from our boat for the rest of the summer.
So, "Annie's Song", welcome home. I missed you.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Matthew
Matthew, my first born, will be graduating from high school in a few days and his plan has been, for quite a long time, to join the Air Force and in July he will leave for basic training in San Antonio, Texas. He spent a couple of years in the ROTC so he has basic, low-level, military knowledge.
I am struggling with trying to identify how I feel about being the mother of a soldier. A military mom. Matthew is joining the military because he wants to fly planes and I support him 100% in his decision. Yes, we're all aware there is a war going on in other parts of our world and I know there is a possibility that Matthew could be sent there. As if the obvious wasn't obvious enough, the parental permission slip (Matthew doesn't turn 18 until September) I signed spelled it all out for me.
I do firmly believe that the military will be good for him. He's a very smart kid (tests at a genius level) and has decent analytical skills.
I'm not at the "empty nest" syndrome yet but how do I let him go??? He was my first son, my parent's first grandson. Oddly enough it was MY mother who gave my paternal grandparents their first grandson.
For the first four years of Matthew's life it was just him and me. I was the proverbial single mother living paycheck to paycheck. In order to provide Matthew with basic necessities (baby food, diapers, etc.) I literally lived on peanut butter and jelly. I recently found photograph's from Matthew's first birthday party and I was so incredibly skinny. But not in a good way.
Mothering Matthew was by trial and error. I had most of the right instincts and I made up a lot as we went along -- and we survived. Sitting here thinking back to those days...a lifetime ago....now he's getting ready to leaving home. When you have kids you KNOW there will come a day when they will venture out into the big, bad world and try to carve their own niche. Then BOOM! The moment is here and I can't find the words to describe the pride and love and respect I have for this man. Man. Oh. My. God. I am the mother of a M.A.N.
Back to the regularly scheduled pre-mid-life-crisis.
I am struggling with trying to identify how I feel about being the mother of a soldier. A military mom. Matthew is joining the military because he wants to fly planes and I support him 100% in his decision. Yes, we're all aware there is a war going on in other parts of our world and I know there is a possibility that Matthew could be sent there. As if the obvious wasn't obvious enough, the parental permission slip (Matthew doesn't turn 18 until September) I signed spelled it all out for me.
I do firmly believe that the military will be good for him. He's a very smart kid (tests at a genius level) and has decent analytical skills.
I'm not at the "empty nest" syndrome yet but how do I let him go??? He was my first son, my parent's first grandson. Oddly enough it was MY mother who gave my paternal grandparents their first grandson.
For the first four years of Matthew's life it was just him and me. I was the proverbial single mother living paycheck to paycheck. In order to provide Matthew with basic necessities (baby food, diapers, etc.) I literally lived on peanut butter and jelly. I recently found photograph's from Matthew's first birthday party and I was so incredibly skinny. But not in a good way.
Mothering Matthew was by trial and error. I had most of the right instincts and I made up a lot as we went along -- and we survived. Sitting here thinking back to those days...a lifetime ago....now he's getting ready to leaving home. When you have kids you KNOW there will come a day when they will venture out into the big, bad world and try to carve their own niche. Then BOOM! The moment is here and I can't find the words to describe the pride and love and respect I have for this man. Man. Oh. My. God. I am the mother of a M.A.N.
Back to the regularly scheduled pre-mid-life-crisis.
Pre-Mid-Life-Crisis
Thanks to the most awesome husband in the world he has found an awesome medication for my PMLC blues. A black 2007 Jeep Wrangler Sahara Unlimited 4x4, Trail Rated. It has a freedom top that comes off in three pieces -- two over the driver cabin and the third over the passenger/cargo area -- so it's also a convertible. The doors come off and the windshield flips down and it has an premium stereo/cd/mp3 player with seven speakers -- I'm gonna be rocking down the road! I am so excited I can't sleep. (Time check: 4:14 AM)
I am trading in my 2000 Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo, also black. Both of our JGCL gave our family major memories so we're both a little sad to see them go.
Here's how it all started: In late 2002 my husband bought a pewter-colored 2000 Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo. Shortly after he bought it I drove it, fell totally in love and within about a week I had a Jeep of my very own!
Our salesperson, Elaine, really likes us because Henry took delivery of a 2007 Jeep Patriot yesterday and today I'm taking the Sahara home! Wooooot!!!
How many men do you know that would buy an awesome SUV for their wife's 40th birthday? Me neither. Oh, and the SUV is in addition to a s-a-weet diamond infinity necklace.
Tears!
Finally, Saturday night, I sobbed like there was no tomorrow. The breaking point was hearing my husband tell me that when I tried to overdose in 2004 that it was his son, Jake (who was 11 at the time), who got him through it. Henry went on to tell me that he hit the bottom where he wanted to die, too but Jake stabilized him and by focusing on that he was able to struggle through the chaos I created.
Once upon a time, tears came easily for me. For some reason (my guess is the medication) the past year or more I have not been able to cry at all. Well, with the exception of March 17th when I broke my elbow. I sobbed while walking the rest of the way down the hill.
Saturday night was the first night Henry and I really talked about my attempted suicide. (It wasn't much talk, but it was a definite start with an agreement to continue the discussion.) It's been this big elephant in the room for so long.
I have very few memories of my own of the six months following my overdose. (Henry has provided me with bits and pieces.) I remember mixing the drug cocktail, swallowing it, laying down and then....nothing. I have vague memories of a couple different psychiatric hospitals and ECT treatments -- Henry has had to fill me in on the rest. Except for the elephant in the room.
I asked Henry to take some time, however much time he needed, to put down on paper everything that happened that August night and after, especially how he was feeling. I have this very deep need to see, in black and white, how my attempted suicide affected him. I desperately need for him to fill in the blanks. I want a piece of paper that, when I am feeling that desperate again, (hopefully I never do) I can read to remind me of all the reasons I have for not putting myself six feet under. I have a tremendous amount of guilt inside my heart for what I put him through and I want that piece of paper to validate it and quantify it. Does that make sense?
I am truly blessed that this man answered my Yahoo! personal ad that asked for someone who was over 6' tall and had a crotch-rocket. He is everything I asked for multiplied by infinity.
Thank you God for another day.
Once upon a time, tears came easily for me. For some reason (my guess is the medication) the past year or more I have not been able to cry at all. Well, with the exception of March 17th when I broke my elbow. I sobbed while walking the rest of the way down the hill.
Saturday night was the first night Henry and I really talked about my attempted suicide. (It wasn't much talk, but it was a definite start with an agreement to continue the discussion.) It's been this big elephant in the room for so long.
I have very few memories of my own of the six months following my overdose. (Henry has provided me with bits and pieces.) I remember mixing the drug cocktail, swallowing it, laying down and then....nothing. I have vague memories of a couple different psychiatric hospitals and ECT treatments -- Henry has had to fill me in on the rest. Except for the elephant in the room.
I asked Henry to take some time, however much time he needed, to put down on paper everything that happened that August night and after, especially how he was feeling. I have this very deep need to see, in black and white, how my attempted suicide affected him. I desperately need for him to fill in the blanks. I want a piece of paper that, when I am feeling that desperate again, (hopefully I never do) I can read to remind me of all the reasons I have for not putting myself six feet under. I have a tremendous amount of guilt inside my heart for what I put him through and I want that piece of paper to validate it and quantify it. Does that make sense?
I am truly blessed that this man answered my Yahoo! personal ad that asked for someone who was over 6' tall and had a crotch-rocket. He is everything I asked for multiplied by infinity.
Thank you God for another day.
Friday, May 18, 2007
About Children's Hospital
Up until Saturday, all of Hunter's hospital experiences have been psychiatric so Children's Hospital was like Disney Land for him. In 2006 Child magazine voted Children's Hospital of Michigan as one of the best in the nation. With the exception of the conflicting information from various doctor's I would have to agree with the magazine.
One parent is encouraged to stay with their child and can do so 24/7. There are shower and laundry facilities available and the kids have access to video PlayStation's so Mario 4 was our constant companion. We even had the services of a "sitter" or a "student" -- which was a HUGE benefit for me.
When Hunter transferred from ICU to the regular unit on Monday, a sitter was assigned to us for the rest of the afternoon and a second through the night. At first I felt a little put out, especially when the sitter told me they are assigned to kids who have od'd (in our case it was purely accidental) or have tried to pull their tubes/IV's out. Hunter was a yes to both. I felt like my parenting skills were being called in to question. It didn't take long for me to get over my paranoia and realize what an asset they were.
We had a sitter from 7 AM - 7 PM on Tuesday and 7 PM Tuesday to 7 AM Wednesday, which gave me the opportunity to nap and eventually shower because Hunter and I were up all night. Yesterday we had a sitter sporadically throughout the day so I could nap and shower and today we had a student from 7 AM right up until discharge. The sitter's and student's play games with the kids, get them showered and linen's changed and as an additional benefit to me, it gave me somebody to talk to!
Everything about this hospital was family centered. If there is not a space available to sleep in your child's room (in Hunter's there was) they had an alternative area with recliners and cushioned benches and provided pillows and linens to you.
The hospital kitchen was open from 7 AM to 7:30 PM everyday and the menu had a huge assortment of kid-friendly food. From peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to cheese pizza and chocolate milkshakes. Oh, and I can't forget the grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup and macaroni and cheese. All of Hunter's favorite foods.
One parent is encouraged to stay with their child and can do so 24/7. There are shower and laundry facilities available and the kids have access to video PlayStation's so Mario 4 was our constant companion. We even had the services of a "sitter" or a "student" -- which was a HUGE benefit for me.
When Hunter transferred from ICU to the regular unit on Monday, a sitter was assigned to us for the rest of the afternoon and a second through the night. At first I felt a little put out, especially when the sitter told me they are assigned to kids who have od'd (in our case it was purely accidental) or have tried to pull their tubes/IV's out. Hunter was a yes to both. I felt like my parenting skills were being called in to question. It didn't take long for me to get over my paranoia and realize what an asset they were.
We had a sitter from 7 AM - 7 PM on Tuesday and 7 PM Tuesday to 7 AM Wednesday, which gave me the opportunity to nap and eventually shower because Hunter and I were up all night. Yesterday we had a sitter sporadically throughout the day so I could nap and shower and today we had a student from 7 AM right up until discharge. The sitter's and student's play games with the kids, get them showered and linen's changed and as an additional benefit to me, it gave me somebody to talk to!
Everything about this hospital was family centered. If there is not a space available to sleep in your child's room (in Hunter's there was) they had an alternative area with recliners and cushioned benches and provided pillows and linens to you.
The hospital kitchen was open from 7 AM to 7:30 PM everyday and the menu had a huge assortment of kid-friendly food. From peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to cheese pizza and chocolate milkshakes. Oh, and I can't forget the grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup and macaroni and cheese. All of Hunter's favorite foods.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Home at Last!
The past five days, to say the least, have been rough on our whole family -- especially Hunter. Both of his elbows, wrists, forearms and the backs of both hands are black and blue from IV's and blood draws. The last IV bubbled up overnight so the nurse removed it this morning and because we had received word he would be going home today they didn't have to reinsert it. Yeah, Hunter!
His last Lithium level was .5 so it has almost completely cleared his system. We will not be giving him Lithium anytime in the forseeable future because I just can't put him through that again. A few people have asked why his p-doc wasn't doing blood draws regularly and my answer is "I don't know." If anybody should know about the importance of Lithium levels, it's me because I took it once-upon-a-time. Yeah, I've about beaten myself to death over it. The guilt has almost consumed me.
On the downside, there is still large amounts of blood in his urine and all the information I have received on the possible reasons why has been conflicting. One doctor, in particular, told me Lithium does not affect the kidneys then later the same day told me it does. Today he told me it does not. He also told me the bleeding should stop within the next two weeks then he told me it could take six months. The Nephrologist that FINALLY came to see us (I had been asking for three days) today told me Lithium can affect the kidneys and that in a month or so the damaged cells would be replaced with new cells and the blood should disappear from his urine. Yeah, I'm shaking my head, too. The internet, surprisingly, is of little help in this matter, too. And I'm an internet search wizard.
Tuesday morning Hunter was carrying on quite an animated conversation with a zebra walking across the wall and a spider behind the chair in the corner of the room. There were various other animals involved, too, but I only remember the zebra because he was talking to the zebra about his stripes. Tonight Hunter walked down to his dad's house (we live a stone's throw apart) for dinner and when he came back an hour or so later he was completely out of breath. It was obvious he had been running but he told me he was running from somebody following him and that that person had followed him into our house and sleeps in his bed. Yeah, I'm shaking my head here, too. My jaw dropped when Hunter told me he wish he had a gun so he could shoot the guy who followed him home.
So, tomorrow I need to get him an appointment with a new p-doc (the same one I'm seeing for my VNS) for a full evaluation.
His last Lithium level was .5 so it has almost completely cleared his system. We will not be giving him Lithium anytime in the forseeable future because I just can't put him through that again. A few people have asked why his p-doc wasn't doing blood draws regularly and my answer is "I don't know." If anybody should know about the importance of Lithium levels, it's me because I took it once-upon-a-time. Yeah, I've about beaten myself to death over it. The guilt has almost consumed me.
On the downside, there is still large amounts of blood in his urine and all the information I have received on the possible reasons why has been conflicting. One doctor, in particular, told me Lithium does not affect the kidneys then later the same day told me it does. Today he told me it does not. He also told me the bleeding should stop within the next two weeks then he told me it could take six months. The Nephrologist that FINALLY came to see us (I had been asking for three days) today told me Lithium can affect the kidneys and that in a month or so the damaged cells would be replaced with new cells and the blood should disappear from his urine. Yeah, I'm shaking my head, too. The internet, surprisingly, is of little help in this matter, too. And I'm an internet search wizard.
Tuesday morning Hunter was carrying on quite an animated conversation with a zebra walking across the wall and a spider behind the chair in the corner of the room. There were various other animals involved, too, but I only remember the zebra because he was talking to the zebra about his stripes. Tonight Hunter walked down to his dad's house (we live a stone's throw apart) for dinner and when he came back an hour or so later he was completely out of breath. It was obvious he had been running but he told me he was running from somebody following him and that that person had followed him into our house and sleeps in his bed. Yeah, I'm shaking my head here, too. My jaw dropped when Hunter told me he wish he had a gun so he could shoot the guy who followed him home.
So, tomorrow I need to get him an appointment with a new p-doc (the same one I'm seeing for my VNS) for a full evaluation.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
No Answers
It's a little after 9 PM Tuesday evening and I'm still sitting next to Hunter's hospital bed on the fifth floor of Children's Hospital. The lithium level has come down further and appears to no longer be a major concern. MY major concern, however, continues to be the blood in his urine. Maybe it's my lack of sleep or the overprotective mother bear in me rearing its gnarly head but I find this knowledge to be much more alarming than the nursing staff appears to. I even said as much to the current shift nurse. I don't know if she was just blowing smoke but she did seem genuinely concerned that this bloody urine problem wasn't higher on the priority list. Like somewhere other than, say, the bottom?
The latest dipstick urine shows some bacteria - so we may finally have a reason for the bloody urine. I'm holding my breath though because the test was done on urine that had sat for more than 30 minutes and was collected in a non-sterile container using a non-clean-catch method.
I'm doing my level best to not drive the staff crazy. I know just enough about the medical profession and procedures to be dangerous. I am not -- and do not -- come across as a know-it-all. I just make sure the staff knows that I am not "ordinary citizen" and I will not be satisfied with having only minimal information. I am in my absolute glory that this hospital has a wireless Internet so I can research all the medical stuff to stay prepared to ask the right questions.
Around 8 o'clock tonight Hunter settled in and drifted off to sleep. 30 minutes later he was screaming and fidgeting and inconsolable. After a lot of babbling it was determined that he needed to use the bathroom so I helped him out of bed. He was wobbling all over the place and totally out of it. He did his business and as I was helping him re-dress I noticed he had wet himself -- which he NEVER does. Red flag.
I helped him out of his wet clothes and was getting a fresh hospital gown on him when he had a full body tremor and crumpled to the floor. Red flag. Thank God I was standing right behind him and was able to catch him on his way down. If I hadn't he would have for certain hit his head on the sink, toilet or floor. After he was cleaned up and dressed he wobbled back toward the bed and almost fell over again. I sat him in the chair and the nursing assistant and I changed his bed. He continued to have tremors while sitting in the chair so the shift nurse was summoned. Followed closely behind by the doctor on call. They witnessed a couple of his tremors and essentially scratched their heads because they have no idea what is causing these to start up again. So for Hunter's safety they thought we should raise all the rails on the bed -- so I did. Neither one of them had any idea how the bed rails worked! And they're caring for my son! Somebody just shoot me now.
The latest dipstick urine shows some bacteria - so we may finally have a reason for the bloody urine. I'm holding my breath though because the test was done on urine that had sat for more than 30 minutes and was collected in a non-sterile container using a non-clean-catch method.
I'm doing my level best to not drive the staff crazy. I know just enough about the medical profession and procedures to be dangerous. I am not -- and do not -- come across as a know-it-all. I just make sure the staff knows that I am not "ordinary citizen" and I will not be satisfied with having only minimal information. I am in my absolute glory that this hospital has a wireless Internet so I can research all the medical stuff to stay prepared to ask the right questions.
Around 8 o'clock tonight Hunter settled in and drifted off to sleep. 30 minutes later he was screaming and fidgeting and inconsolable. After a lot of babbling it was determined that he needed to use the bathroom so I helped him out of bed. He was wobbling all over the place and totally out of it. He did his business and as I was helping him re-dress I noticed he had wet himself -- which he NEVER does. Red flag.
I helped him out of his wet clothes and was getting a fresh hospital gown on him when he had a full body tremor and crumpled to the floor. Red flag. Thank God I was standing right behind him and was able to catch him on his way down. If I hadn't he would have for certain hit his head on the sink, toilet or floor. After he was cleaned up and dressed he wobbled back toward the bed and almost fell over again. I sat him in the chair and the nursing assistant and I changed his bed. He continued to have tremors while sitting in the chair so the shift nurse was summoned. Followed closely behind by the doctor on call. They witnessed a couple of his tremors and essentially scratched their heads because they have no idea what is causing these to start up again. So for Hunter's safety they thought we should raise all the rails on the bed -- so I did. Neither one of them had any idea how the bed rails worked! And they're caring for my son! Somebody just shoot me now.
4-something AM
It's been a long something. I only know what day it is because of my computer. It certainly doesn't feel like the middle of May.
I'm sitting next to Hunter's bed on the fifth floor of Children's Hospital, plugged into my iPod, trying to sort through all this, this, what? Crap? Emotions? Guilt?
Guilt is currently at the top of my list because I believe, right or wrong, that I am the reason he is laying in this hospital bed drooling all over his pillow. I'm one of those people who believes depression can be genetic. There are a myriad of other people who vehemently disagree with that belief and I am okay with that. I can only speak about my life and the lives of my children and how this chemical imbalance affects all of us.
The unit is quiet and were it not for my iPod I would be listening to the rhythmic click-swoosh-click-swoosh of the IV pump forcing fluids into Hunter's stubborn veins. The first IV was inserted into the crook of his right elbow at the first emergency room. Although I understand the veins in the crook of the elbow are considered prime real estate common sense should prevail to deter tech's from installing one there. Like, duh! Hunter only had to slightly bend his arm and the pump alarm would sound. Because Hunter has been diagnosed in the Autism spectrum he is easily overwhelmed by sounds, sights and smells and this constant alarm had him in an almost constant tizzy.
I finally got my way and they moved the IV to his left hand. All was right in Hunter's world and he dozed off for oh, about an hour, after which he woke up screaming bloody murder. Something was obviously wrong but he was so tired and incoherent that I struggled to figure out what he was so distressed about. I finally heard the word "pain" and looked at his left hand. Yep, sure enough, it had bubbled right up. The IV cath was out of the vein and pouring fluid into his hand. Speaking from experience I can assure you that it hurts. like. hell. I seriously considered gnawing my hand off when it happened to me.
After an attempt in his right hand that failed so miserably the catheter was actually zig-zagged bent a vein was found on his forearm and the IV successfully installed. Hunter was an absolute trooper through the whole ordeal. Well, except for the swollen hand and howling part. At a few points during the process he let out a belly laugh that had the tech and the nurse laughing at his laugh.
The Lithium and potassium levels are slowly coming down (yeah!) but I have a whole other issue that I am overwhelmed with concern over. The team has been pumping oceans of fluid into Hunter but he is only voiding a ladle full. On top of that it is very dark and cloudy. What makes the whole situation -- and me -- out of control is that there is blood in his urine. It's not visible to the eye but the color appearing on the dipstick is not even remotely close to any of the colors on the chart it is compared to. The color on the dipstick is way off the chart. Every fiber in my being tells me something is terribly, terribly wrong but I can't get a definitive answer as to what might be causing all this blood in his urine. About 15 minutes ago the nurse came in and connected a second pump to administer Lasiks through Hunter's IV. If the Lasiks works properly Hunter should be peeing over the moon. If not, what next? I've been surfing around the Internet tonight but it's only adding to my panic and confusion.
It's now 5 AM and I'm wide awake. Hunter is sleeping and softly snoring. Over the past five years Hunter has been given some pretty wicked medication -- have these damaged his kidney's beyond repair?
I'm sitting next to Hunter's bed on the fifth floor of Children's Hospital, plugged into my iPod, trying to sort through all this, this, what? Crap? Emotions? Guilt?
Guilt is currently at the top of my list because I believe, right or wrong, that I am the reason he is laying in this hospital bed drooling all over his pillow. I'm one of those people who believes depression can be genetic. There are a myriad of other people who vehemently disagree with that belief and I am okay with that. I can only speak about my life and the lives of my children and how this chemical imbalance affects all of us.
The unit is quiet and were it not for my iPod I would be listening to the rhythmic click-swoosh-click-swoosh of the IV pump forcing fluids into Hunter's stubborn veins. The first IV was inserted into the crook of his right elbow at the first emergency room. Although I understand the veins in the crook of the elbow are considered prime real estate common sense should prevail to deter tech's from installing one there. Like, duh! Hunter only had to slightly bend his arm and the pump alarm would sound. Because Hunter has been diagnosed in the Autism spectrum he is easily overwhelmed by sounds, sights and smells and this constant alarm had him in an almost constant tizzy.
I finally got my way and they moved the IV to his left hand. All was right in Hunter's world and he dozed off for oh, about an hour, after which he woke up screaming bloody murder. Something was obviously wrong but he was so tired and incoherent that I struggled to figure out what he was so distressed about. I finally heard the word "pain" and looked at his left hand. Yep, sure enough, it had bubbled right up. The IV cath was out of the vein and pouring fluid into his hand. Speaking from experience I can assure you that it hurts. like. hell. I seriously considered gnawing my hand off when it happened to me.
After an attempt in his right hand that failed so miserably the catheter was actually zig-zagged bent a vein was found on his forearm and the IV successfully installed. Hunter was an absolute trooper through the whole ordeal. Well, except for the swollen hand and howling part. At a few points during the process he let out a belly laugh that had the tech and the nurse laughing at his laugh.
The Lithium and potassium levels are slowly coming down (yeah!) but I have a whole other issue that I am overwhelmed with concern over. The team has been pumping oceans of fluid into Hunter but he is only voiding a ladle full. On top of that it is very dark and cloudy. What makes the whole situation -- and me -- out of control is that there is blood in his urine. It's not visible to the eye but the color appearing on the dipstick is not even remotely close to any of the colors on the chart it is compared to. The color on the dipstick is way off the chart. Every fiber in my being tells me something is terribly, terribly wrong but I can't get a definitive answer as to what might be causing all this blood in his urine. About 15 minutes ago the nurse came in and connected a second pump to administer Lasiks through Hunter's IV. If the Lasiks works properly Hunter should be peeing over the moon. If not, what next? I've been surfing around the Internet tonight but it's only adding to my panic and confusion.
It's now 5 AM and I'm wide awake. Hunter is sleeping and softly snoring. Over the past five years Hunter has been given some pretty wicked medication -- have these damaged his kidney's beyond repair?
Monday, May 14, 2007
Children's Hospital
Well, Hunter and I have now both had hospitalizations, in the last month, that were not psychiatric related. Woot! I almost sound like a snob saying that but it feels GOOD!
Because hindsight is ALWAYS 20/20, Hunter had been showing lithium toxicity for about two weeks. Stupid me attributed the clumsiness, confusion, slightly slurred speech and headache to Hunter just being Hunter. (Yeah, I'm totally beating myself up about this.) The school was even sending notes home saying Hunter was sleeping in class, confused and that he even told the teacher he "felt like a cartoon character".
In short, all the notes pointed to Hunter just not acting quite right. Last Tuesday the school nurse sent home a note saying Hunter was coughing a lot, congested, had a headache and, upon examination, one of his ears was slightly red and retracted.
On Thursday I kept Hunter home from school and, to totally mollify the nurse because I thought she was making a mountain out of a molehill because Hunter was showing none of these symptoms at home, I took him to the doctor. Just as I thought, none of the symptoms the nurse listed turned out to be anything. Ha! I thought to myself. Take THAT Ms. School Nurse! The doctor still played it safe and put him on an antibiotic.
Hunter was still acting like Hunter (as mentioned above) so I sent him to school on Friday. Friday night he threw up but I didn't give it a second thought because it could have been something he ate, blah, blah, blah -- and he only threw up once and there was no fever.
Saturday morning Hunter was clumsily making his way through the kitchen when a tremor took over his whole body and he dropped to the floor. He didn't lose conciousness and Hunter is not very coordinated to begin with. So, again, I thought nothing of it. Later on Henry and I packed up Hunter to go look at the marina where we are going to dock our boat and look at a boat the marina has for sale. Hunter stayed on the ground as Henry and I climbed aboard to take a look around. Suddenly I heard Hunter screaming that he was throwing up. We packed Hunter up again and drove home. I sat Hunter on the living room floor and as I was removing his shoes he had another total body tremor that knocked him over. I put his shoes back on and we left for the emergency room.
I don't remember the exact numbers but his lithium and potassium levels were up around 6. Around 2:00 AM Sunday morning Hunter was transferred to Children's Hospital's ICU where he stayed until about 4 o'clock this afternoon. They continue to pump IV fluids but his kidney function is very low and, oh, by the way, yesterday they found blood in his urine. I just found out about that about an hour ago.
At 10:00 AM yesterday morning his lithium was at 5.9. They just did another blood draw so we'll see what that has to say.
I think it is safe to say that Hunter will no longer be taking Lithium. At least if I have anything to say about it. Never, ever, ever again will I assume Hunter is just being Hunter. I have learned an almost fatal lesson.
Because hindsight is ALWAYS 20/20, Hunter had been showing lithium toxicity for about two weeks. Stupid me attributed the clumsiness, confusion, slightly slurred speech and headache to Hunter just being Hunter. (Yeah, I'm totally beating myself up about this.) The school was even sending notes home saying Hunter was sleeping in class, confused and that he even told the teacher he "felt like a cartoon character".
In short, all the notes pointed to Hunter just not acting quite right. Last Tuesday the school nurse sent home a note saying Hunter was coughing a lot, congested, had a headache and, upon examination, one of his ears was slightly red and retracted.
On Thursday I kept Hunter home from school and, to totally mollify the nurse because I thought she was making a mountain out of a molehill because Hunter was showing none of these symptoms at home, I took him to the doctor. Just as I thought, none of the symptoms the nurse listed turned out to be anything. Ha! I thought to myself. Take THAT Ms. School Nurse! The doctor still played it safe and put him on an antibiotic.
Hunter was still acting like Hunter (as mentioned above) so I sent him to school on Friday. Friday night he threw up but I didn't give it a second thought because it could have been something he ate, blah, blah, blah -- and he only threw up once and there was no fever.
Saturday morning Hunter was clumsily making his way through the kitchen when a tremor took over his whole body and he dropped to the floor. He didn't lose conciousness and Hunter is not very coordinated to begin with. So, again, I thought nothing of it. Later on Henry and I packed up Hunter to go look at the marina where we are going to dock our boat and look at a boat the marina has for sale. Hunter stayed on the ground as Henry and I climbed aboard to take a look around. Suddenly I heard Hunter screaming that he was throwing up. We packed Hunter up again and drove home. I sat Hunter on the living room floor and as I was removing his shoes he had another total body tremor that knocked him over. I put his shoes back on and we left for the emergency room.
I don't remember the exact numbers but his lithium and potassium levels were up around 6. Around 2:00 AM Sunday morning Hunter was transferred to Children's Hospital's ICU where he stayed until about 4 o'clock this afternoon. They continue to pump IV fluids but his kidney function is very low and, oh, by the way, yesterday they found blood in his urine. I just found out about that about an hour ago.
At 10:00 AM yesterday morning his lithium was at 5.9. They just did another blood draw so we'll see what that has to say.
I think it is safe to say that Hunter will no longer be taking Lithium. At least if I have anything to say about it. Never, ever, ever again will I assume Hunter is just being Hunter. I have learned an almost fatal lesson.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Fore! Oh!
Well, my 40th birthday has officially come...and....gone. I feel like I am spinning like a top that can't stop.
So much stuff has happened in the last six months and I feel as though I haven't worked through all the emotional/brain aspects of it. My body, I know, is not completely healed from the broken elbow and staph infection and I've been staying up way too late. Like tonight. I have been awake since 2 o'clock yesterday (Friday) morning. About 30 minutes ago the last of my children staggered off to bed so here I sit in my favorite chair and it is blissfully quiet. The only sound is the faint squeak of my chair as I rock and type. And the occasional rustling of Snuggles the guinea pig hanging out in her cage behind me.
To be quite honest, I have literally been afraid to be alone with the jumbled thoughts rolling around in my head. I know there are things I need to sort out and try to make sense of.
Major mind boggling things I need to deal with are trying to figure out just how I truly feel about turning 40. On the one hand, a little more than two years ago, I had absolutely no intention of celebrating another birthday. Ever. On the other hand I am in awe? amazed? disbelieving? that I am sitting in this chair at 1:35 AM Saturday, May 5th adding a post to my blog.
One thing I KNOW for certain about this milestone birthday is that I really don't feel "old". A little chubby and out of shape, yes. But old, no. I am deeply looking forward to scuba diving again this summer and since we decided to put our boat in the water this year (she was in dry-dock last year) I am looking forward to spending time on her, too.
The next milestone occurring around me is the graduation of my first-born son (he's also the first born grandson for my parent's) in June and his deployment to San Antonio, Texas for Air Force basic training in July.
I can't quite wrap my brain around either of these two events because I am in denial. Yep, the big "D". I'm tremendously proud of him and, um, a little freaked out about being a military mom. What makes this step into the military for this young man so emotional for me is that, because of his age (17), his dad and I had to sign a waiver giving our permission for him to enlist. Matthew's recruiter drove more than an hour and a half to my office to obtain my signature. I remember the jolt I felt right in my gut as the recruiter handed me the paper and the sound of the pounding of my heart in my ears as I read what the paper had to say.
Matthew's enlistment in the military came as no surprise to me. He's been part of the ROTC at school and he's always wanted to fly planes. But, my God, just last week I put him on the school bus for his first day in Kindergarten. Last month he was learning to ride a bike. Seventeen years of memories, some very painful and some incredibly beautiful, have brought us to here. To this spot where I have to hold out my hand and let him go. I struggle to recall his face and voice the way they were before hormones turned him into a young man.
That ten-pound, twenty-three inch tall baby now stands almost 6'5". Matthew was my first and for the first five years of his life, he was all mine. It wasn't easy for us in the beginning. I was a single mom but insanely determined to provide him with everything he needed. I lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches during those years so I would have enough money to buy diapers, milk, food and clothes for Matthew and keep a roof over our heads. To say I was anorexic at that would have been pretty accurate. Another chapter in my life that I look back on and wonder how we ever survived.
When Matthew was five, and just days into his kindergartner school year I had to surrender myself to the black hole of depression that had been gnawing at me for years. With the wave of hand I sent Matthew to live with his father then left my second marriage and my ten-month old son, Connor, behind.
Every time I think about the sequence of events leading up to that painful crossroads I get a sharp pain in my heart. Then I go round-and-round with myself about how the dreadful decision I made was the right thing to do at the time. I have never and would never hurt my kids and I didn't want one of them to find me dead in my bed from an overdose of pills. (Connor's dad likes to create opportunities where he can tell me how selfish I was to walk away from my kids and only a despicable mother would do something like that.)
I've been cruising a long the past three months with this stimulator in my chest. My mood is pretty stable and my thoughts are not 100% consumed with thoughts of suicide. Then today I receive news that my 14-year-old nephew was just released from the hospital for his SECOND suicide attempt in the last month. The first time he tried to hang himself and the second time he overdosed on cold medicine, among other things, and booze. That was definitely a cold, hard slap across the face. I know all about attempted suicide and just exactly what it takes for you to fall so far into the black hole that you just don't have the strength anymore to fight the demons that are clawing their way down your throat dragging what's left of you to the very bottom of the pit.
I've never been on the innocent family side of attempted suicide but my instinct kicked in and I called my nephew, J's, dad and left a voicemail imploring him to let me help him (the parents) and J. When I got home from work I spent a great deal of time dusting off my resources on how to get J help.
I have so much knowledge about mental illness from so many different points of view that it truly is mind boggling. I emailed my (younger) sister a very long email with an enormous amount of information. I pray that she finds enough useful information in it to give her the knowledge she needs to battle the mental health services maze.
My youngest son, Hunter, is 10 and his "billable" (for insurances) diagnosis is bipolar. Every aspect of the testing he has had during his numerous and lengthy stays in various psychiatric facilities points the arrow to "PDD" (pervasive development disorder) -- in the autism spectrum.
So many times over the past few weeks I've found myself shaking my head in half disbelief and half dizziness. I was hoping that blogging some of this stuff tonight would bring a little peace to my weary soul but instead I feel no relief whatsoever.
Tomorrow is another day. I mean today is.
So much stuff has happened in the last six months and I feel as though I haven't worked through all the emotional/brain aspects of it. My body, I know, is not completely healed from the broken elbow and staph infection and I've been staying up way too late. Like tonight. I have been awake since 2 o'clock yesterday (Friday) morning. About 30 minutes ago the last of my children staggered off to bed so here I sit in my favorite chair and it is blissfully quiet. The only sound is the faint squeak of my chair as I rock and type. And the occasional rustling of Snuggles the guinea pig hanging out in her cage behind me.
To be quite honest, I have literally been afraid to be alone with the jumbled thoughts rolling around in my head. I know there are things I need to sort out and try to make sense of.
Major mind boggling things I need to deal with are trying to figure out just how I truly feel about turning 40. On the one hand, a little more than two years ago, I had absolutely no intention of celebrating another birthday. Ever. On the other hand I am in awe? amazed? disbelieving? that I am sitting in this chair at 1:35 AM Saturday, May 5th adding a post to my blog.
One thing I KNOW for certain about this milestone birthday is that I really don't feel "old". A little chubby and out of shape, yes. But old, no. I am deeply looking forward to scuba diving again this summer and since we decided to put our boat in the water this year (she was in dry-dock last year) I am looking forward to spending time on her, too.
The next milestone occurring around me is the graduation of my first-born son (he's also the first born grandson for my parent's) in June and his deployment to San Antonio, Texas for Air Force basic training in July.
I can't quite wrap my brain around either of these two events because I am in denial. Yep, the big "D". I'm tremendously proud of him and, um, a little freaked out about being a military mom. What makes this step into the military for this young man so emotional for me is that, because of his age (17), his dad and I had to sign a waiver giving our permission for him to enlist. Matthew's recruiter drove more than an hour and a half to my office to obtain my signature. I remember the jolt I felt right in my gut as the recruiter handed me the paper and the sound of the pounding of my heart in my ears as I read what the paper had to say.
Matthew's enlistment in the military came as no surprise to me. He's been part of the ROTC at school and he's always wanted to fly planes. But, my God, just last week I put him on the school bus for his first day in Kindergarten. Last month he was learning to ride a bike. Seventeen years of memories, some very painful and some incredibly beautiful, have brought us to here. To this spot where I have to hold out my hand and let him go. I struggle to recall his face and voice the way they were before hormones turned him into a young man.
That ten-pound, twenty-three inch tall baby now stands almost 6'5". Matthew was my first and for the first five years of his life, he was all mine. It wasn't easy for us in the beginning. I was a single mom but insanely determined to provide him with everything he needed. I lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches during those years so I would have enough money to buy diapers, milk, food and clothes for Matthew and keep a roof over our heads. To say I was anorexic at that would have been pretty accurate. Another chapter in my life that I look back on and wonder how we ever survived.
When Matthew was five, and just days into his kindergartner school year I had to surrender myself to the black hole of depression that had been gnawing at me for years. With the wave of hand I sent Matthew to live with his father then left my second marriage and my ten-month old son, Connor, behind.
Every time I think about the sequence of events leading up to that painful crossroads I get a sharp pain in my heart. Then I go round-and-round with myself about how the dreadful decision I made was the right thing to do at the time. I have never and would never hurt my kids and I didn't want one of them to find me dead in my bed from an overdose of pills. (Connor's dad likes to create opportunities where he can tell me how selfish I was to walk away from my kids and only a despicable mother would do something like that.)
I've been cruising a long the past three months with this stimulator in my chest. My mood is pretty stable and my thoughts are not 100% consumed with thoughts of suicide. Then today I receive news that my 14-year-old nephew was just released from the hospital for his SECOND suicide attempt in the last month. The first time he tried to hang himself and the second time he overdosed on cold medicine, among other things, and booze. That was definitely a cold, hard slap across the face. I know all about attempted suicide and just exactly what it takes for you to fall so far into the black hole that you just don't have the strength anymore to fight the demons that are clawing their way down your throat dragging what's left of you to the very bottom of the pit.
I've never been on the innocent family side of attempted suicide but my instinct kicked in and I called my nephew, J's, dad and left a voicemail imploring him to let me help him (the parents) and J. When I got home from work I spent a great deal of time dusting off my resources on how to get J help.
I have so much knowledge about mental illness from so many different points of view that it truly is mind boggling. I emailed my (younger) sister a very long email with an enormous amount of information. I pray that she finds enough useful information in it to give her the knowledge she needs to battle the mental health services maze.
My youngest son, Hunter, is 10 and his "billable" (for insurances) diagnosis is bipolar. Every aspect of the testing he has had during his numerous and lengthy stays in various psychiatric facilities points the arrow to "PDD" (pervasive development disorder) -- in the autism spectrum.
So many times over the past few weeks I've found myself shaking my head in half disbelief and half dizziness. I was hoping that blogging some of this stuff tonight would bring a little peace to my weary soul but instead I feel no relief whatsoever.
Tomorrow is another day. I mean today is.
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