the calm after the storm

So, today is my birthday and I was super happy that I got to start my day off with my sister, niece, and new little nephew here!  It was so nice to be able to see them, though the circumstances could’ve been better.  Isn’t that how it goes though? We go on, wishing we could make time, figure out how to work out a visit, etc. then something happens; a birth, a death, an illness, and we finally make it happen.  With gas prices, kids, school, and life getting so busy, we hardly see each other.

My father went in the hospital on Friday, and finally came home last night. I’m glad going to the hospital isn’t on my “to do” list for today.  On Easter (Sunday), we had a nice morning with the boys.  I had all of the food prepared, started the ham, and jumped in the shower.  I got out about noon, got a phone call from the hospital that my dad wanted to see me. I asked the nurse to let him know I was showering then I would be over. My plan had been to finish the food, make him a plate, go visit, then come home and have dinner with the family.  Well, that apparently wasn’t going to work for him!  So about 10 minutes later, I got a call back from the nurse, apologizing all over herself that he had checked himself out!  WHAT?!  I was panicked.  So Richard took my car to go find him, and I stayed home, incase he got a cab.  Well Richard found him first.  Dad’s plan was to come home, get his car, and drive off to be alone, and die. He was in a horribly depressed state of mind and I knew that.  I wasn’t going to let his state of mind influence this decision.  So I told Richard to tell him that if he tried to drive I would call the police, because he was endangering other people at that point as well. 

Mind you, all this time he was having an active heart attack!  When I was in the hospital the day before, and he took out his oxygen, his levels dropped over 20 points!  I was afraid he would just keel over at any point! 

So my husband stayed with him and finally convinced him to admit himself again.  Except he had to go in through the ER ALL over again. Wait for a bed to open, all over again.  Complain about the wait, all over again. Well, you get the drift. All the while he is cursing me for taking him in, in the first place.  Swearing he’d never tell me again if he wasn’t feeling well.  It was ALL MY FAULT!

I didn’t see my husband until 11pm on Easter night.  The kids and I ate dinner, though they didn’t want to.  They wanted their daddy.  On Monday I went to the hospital with back up! My sister drove down to help me talk some sense into him.   Of course the first thing he says is “I could’ve been home for Easter if you hadn’t made me come in here!”  I’m surprised I had any tongue left with all the biting I was doing.  I have a lot of patience and tolerance for outbursts, I’ve had practice with my son, and I get that sometimes it isn’t easy to control.  All the same, there were times I was snapping at him, I was shocked by what he said, and I really wanted to walk away and not look back.  The hospital started him on a medication that helped to stabilize his mood, and it was like the clouds parted, the sun shined through, and there was peace.

We had a counselor meet with him.  That seemed to help a lot (Well that and the medication).  He finally agreed to have the procedure done. Then we got the insurance squared away and he was shipped off to the VA hospital.  We went that night to make sure he was okay and to warn the doctor and nurses about his “escape” on Sunday.  We encouraged them to keep him especially comfortable. Ultimately he was scared, frustrated, and having really bad anxiety, and he was raging about it. But he did well there, and we were able to head home, knowing he was okay.

So they did the angio and his heart looked okay.  They didn’t need to do any other procedures and got him set up on his heart medications, again.  We went and picked him up yesterday afternoon.  Today he is kind of tired and sad. 

I’m sitting here alone in the house, and it’s quiet.  I’m bummed my sister and her family can’t be here longer but I really enjoyed having them here.  It meant a lot to not feel so alone in all of this.  Words cannot describe how horrible he was acting so at least I know someone else saw it and saw how bad it got.  I’m tired, I’m relieved. 

This afternoon I have an appointment with my Rheumatologist to find out the results of my most recent blood tests.  So I’m hoping that goes well.  

Ultimately I’m really grateful for my kids, they were troopers through all of this.  They are so used to me being here and making sure everything works out.  I’m thankful for my husband for being super supportive and taking the time off of work to do all of the things I normally do.   I’m thankful that my sister came down to help me with all of this.  I’m thankful that my niece gave up her Spring Break to spend most of it sitting in a hospital or a car, and for all the laughter she helped us share!  And I’m thankful for my nephew, because well he made me smile with his immense cuteness!

I guess even with as crappy as everything was this week, there still is a silver lining.  I’m glad my dad is okay, I’m hoping this encourages him to get some help.  I realized that hundreds of miles doesn’t mean I’m not close to my sister and her kids.  There were so many good things in amongst the bad. Though I wouldn’t want to have to do this again, the outcome helps to cope with it.

Epiphanies

Yesterday was a hard day.  It was also an incredible learning experience. It is amazing how much perspective can change the way we think about things. People don’t realize this.  From one person’s perspective they may see my son as a spoiled, bratty child. Surely, anyone who has passed by us in the grocery store as he sobs and pushes the cart, because he can’t get a toy, has allowed their mind to wander there.  Yet those who can see things a little differently realize that every struggle is a learning experience, a lesson in self control.  They see that he really is a sick little boy with a mom who is reaching out to try to teach him, instead of punish him.

Yesterday morning my father had a heart attack. Well either in the night or during the day, no one knows for sure.  After half an hour of arguing with him, I won and took him to the Urgent Care.  When we arrived, they checked him out and sent him to the ER without hesitation.  I had the boys with me and I can proudly say that in my haste, the boys handled themselves quite well.  They even sat like big boys while I went back and gathered my dad’s personal belongings.  It showed me just how much Tre has grown as a person. I was able to count on him to watch over his little brother and not create trouble. 

Well, a friend of mine was able to get the boys from me and then I headed over to the hospital.  It took me a little while to find my dad, but I did. They had him out in a hall way, hooked up to the monitors. There was a Sheriff guarding a room next to ours.  There were people crying, babies screaming, men cussing, it was a rather overwhelming experience.  I should probably confess I hate hospitals. Just driving up I felt my breathing change.  Yet, because I would never want to be alone in one, and I know how bad my dad’s anxiety is about hospitals, I stayed at his side.

Growing up, my dad was not a happy go lucky kinda guy.  He had a temper that he has learned to better control over time, but it certainly is still there. I would be lying if I said it was easy to deal with him. I have seen sides of him that have been hard to forget and forgive.  Yesterday I saw glances of that person that shamed a little girl.  I felt the little girl inside of me cowering, embarrassed and ashamed.  When the doctor came in and said that he would have probably had a better result from his bypass in 2000, had he ate better, exercised more, and not smoked, he wasn’t hearing any of it.  First he was rude to the doctor.  I was aghast. Then the doctor tried explaining himself again, dad told him to shove it, more or less. Then he rolled over, turned off his hearing aid and said “I’m not listening to this crap!” It was so ridiculous, I almost laughed (not in a haha funny kind of way).  I put my hands over my face, and slid down in my chair.  There was no rock to crawl under. That little girl inside of me was horrified and terrified. Somehow I felt responsible for his actions.  Then he looked at me and snapped “I TOLD YOU I DID NOT WANT TO COME HERE!”  So I got up and walked out.

I stood outside the room, in tears.  In disbelief really.  Through the day I heard him say things like “Just let me die,” “These people are idiots,” all the while I smoothed things over. I explained his behavior to the nurses, told them he had anxiety.  Tried to make sure he was comfortable.  But when he yelled at me, my compassion about ran out.

I had encouraged them to address his anxiety promptly when I arrived and they had.  As I stood there in tears, I put two and two together. His anxiety med was wearing off.  After the doctor coming out and comforting me, I went to one of the nurses. I told her that she should do us all a favor and give him more anxiety meds because otherwise things would get more uncomfortable for all of us.  She smiled and said “I’m never too old for advice!” Once again the anti-anxiety meds did the trick.

It was about then I started seeing a parallel.  Things started making sense and I saw my dad in a new light.

I went outside and called my husband, since there was no cell service in the ER.  I stayed out about ten minutes. When I went in they said he’d been asking for me.  When I went in he was angry because they had woken him up to take his blood and then just threw his food on his lap (his words, not mine).  So I helped him get settled and eat.  Of course, it wasn’t good enough.

As I sat there watching him, I saw my son. I saw the way Tre acts when he is scared.  Such as the day of the state test. He was terrified and instead of just saying “I’m so scared”, he lashed out in anger.  So I just held in my mind that just like the little girl in me who was trying to hide in his room earlier, when the doctor was there, there was a little boy inside of him that was terrified.  That was the person I had to talk to, the person I had to address.  We all have an inner child.  That person who wants to run first when things are scary.  It was like seeing Tre sitting there, where he didn’t want to be.

The next time he started to get snappy and tell me he didn’t want to be there, I stood up, went to the end of his bed and told him that he had to stop getting mad at me for bringing him, that I did the right thing.  I asked him if he expected me to just let him sit at home and die.  I said I could not have lived with myself knowing that I had not done anything.  And you know what? He didn’t say it anymore.  He grumbled about them taking too long to move him again, and granted it was a long day!

Once they got him upstairs in ICU, there was a huge reduction in sound, and stimuli.  It was a much calmer place.  Once they got him set up, I went in to say good night and to make sure he was okay.  When I went in, he was much more relaxed.  He actually thought about me and said “You should go home to the boys, give them a kiss for me.” It was the first time all day he had thought about me.  I knew he was in a better place mentally.  He was able to let go of his anxiety and fears and be a man again.  The little boy finally felt safe.

Thinking back over the years things started to make sense, as I drove home. The dad that lashed out at people as I grew up was really that scared little boy.  He was desperate to be heard, so he talked louder. When he didn’t get his way, he would get mad.  Then there were other times he handled things so well.

I also saw the amazing similarities between Tre and my father.  They are very much alike in the way they handle things.  In the same way that I cringed when I knew something was going to upset my dad, I do when we walk by something at the store and Tre’s eyes light up.  That “oh boy, here we go!” feeling. 

So what do I do with these epiphanies? I don’t know just yet. Today, I’m going to try to balance dying Easter eggs with the kids, and going to visit him in the hospital. I want him to know he isn’t alone there.  Also, just like I have had to learn that when Tre acts out, I can’t worry or care what people think of me, I have to do the same with my dad. Much in the same way, I may need to explain to people what is going on-  like nurses, or doctors. But it’s not my fault. I’m not responsible for the issues; all I can do is try to understand.  If nothing else, my new perspective will at least help me.

State Testing = Mom Fail

State testing has successfully made me feel like the worst mom ever, a complete failure.  I knew Tre had test anxiety but I didn’t think it had gotten this bad!  Can you tell it’s been a long day?

Since Tre attends a virtual school, they set up testing locations at local churches, where kids from the community go to take the state test.  Tre’s days for testing were today and tomorrow. We talked about it for the last week, preparing for what would happen. I told his teacher about his bad test anxiety and she assured me, all would be well…  (this is where malevolent laughter can be inserted).

We pulled up and he was doing fine.  We had to go and sign in and things were good. We went and sat in the car to wait until the testing would start.  We sat and watched a video on youtube, and he started crying.  First indication that he was worried but I didn’t think it would be too bad and honestly I didn’t know what options I had.  I asked him what was wrong and he just shrugged.  We had a lot of positive talk “You’re going to do fine, just try your best”, so on and so forth.  “I’ll buy you whatever you want for lunch!” even entered the conversation.  Then the kids all started lining up by grade.  I said “oh, come on, let’s go!”  As I enthusiastically exited the car, he just sat there, arms folded.  So I got out and walked across the parking lot and he finally followed.  Slowly he approached where the other kids were, but not without telling me I was a stupid jerk. I told him to be nice and whispered that there were kids around and he didn’t need to talk that way.  He replies “Who freakin’ cares?!” overly loud  (at this point he is trying to rattle me because he is saying things I don’t want him to say and he is doing it in public, he wants to leave).

The teachers there were super sweet and let me walk him to the door where his testing would be held.  He stood against the wall and refused to go in.  He was standing there, holding his breath and shaking his head no, he wouldn’t even talk to anyone!  So the coordinator approached us and told him “Okay mom can sit in the hall, so you can look out the door and see her!”  Nope…  at this point I’m 1)embarrassed 2) desperate 3)scared.  No words can describe how it feels when you know your child needs to do something but there is nothing you can humanly do to force them.

So the poor teacher had to get all of the other students started as Tre adamantly stood against the wall refusing to go in. So finally the teacher said I could sit in the room!  Nope… I went and sat down; finally he walked in, I think hallelujah!  But instead of taking a seat, he just slid down the wall and started sobbing. He was even banging his head on the wall. Bless the other kids in the room, because not one starred or said a word.  About this point I’m tearing up.  The teacher approached me and said that we could go, just let the coordinator know what was going on. She said she had witnessed what had happened and would let the school know that he is not capable of testing at this time. She was ever so kind but her words cut me so deeply.  It was a reality check, just look at how sick my little boy is.

So I apologize and she said it was okay, and even hugged me.  She said that she just couldn’t let him be a distraction to the other kids.  I tried bribing him, threatening him, I pulled out every mommy tool I could think of, and nothing was getting through.  So on the way out I talked with the coordinator who incredibly understood and took responsibility for the school not being better prepared to accommodate us. See in the last three months, we’ve been on home school; we’re just starting with a third teacher. They said it’s not normally like that but since it is, no one is really familiar with us.

She said that she would either say “Unable to complete” on his test or set up a one on one testing between him and a teacher at a local library, so he could feel less anxious. 

I really tried to well prepare him for this.  I was full on crying by the time I got to the car.  I feel responsible for him being clingy to me; I worry if I have made it worse or if his disorder is getting worse.  I wonder is he trying to control the situation? Or is he just desperate to get out of the situation because his anxiety about it is so bad?  In the past he has handled situations like this better but from what I have been told; his bipolar will escalate, because he had such an early onset.

As I’m sitting in the car sobbing, he starts crying, he is soooo sorry and to take him back, let him try again.  He started calling himself stupid, and bashing his fists in his head.  See I wasn’t angry with him… but he was angry with himself.  He wants to be one of those kids that were sitting there taking the test as much as I would like for him to be.  Plus once he was crying in front of those kids, the last thing he wanted to do was be stuck in a room with them for three hours.

It’s hard to accept that perhaps this is just the best he can do.  I wonder what future he will have if he will always be so dependent on me.  What happens one day, when I’m no longer here?  Should I help him by letting him avoid stressful situations if possible, or should I push him to learn to deal with them more?  I didn’t know what else to do this morning.  There was no forcing him in a seat and making him write. Nothing I could have offered or threatened would have changed his response. He was completely shut down. 

I am so filled with this flow of emotions that causes nausea in my gut.  This clenching fear, and concern.  But I kiss him and tell him I love him and that it’s going to be okay.  I told him that we just have to try again and at least now they understand how hard it is for him. Sometimes I honestly have no idea what I’m doing!  Thanks state testing for reminding me of that.