2014 - 2016 Update

So... I left off that W spent a month in the ER and then an additional 8 days in the inpatient psych unit... he was diagnosed with bipolar, autism and adhd. He had a new medication regimen and the psychiatrist that was working with him on the unit became his psychiatrist for the next few years. Things were starting to look up and the next two years were pretty good all around. 

Now... when I say things were pretty good all around, we didn't have any psychotic breakdowns going on... kids were doing good in school... things were pretty good. From my past experiences, I almost wanted to think too good to be true and was just waiting for the storm to hit. 

I don't know when my anxiety started... I was diagnosed the first time in 2008, but I'm sure it was there before then. I've always been good at 'coping' and 'holding it in'... mostly to my own detriment. I tend to hold things in until I can't anymore and then I explode... whether it be anger or crying. I've tried to be better and for the most part I am, but I still have my moments. 

Back to 2016... like I said... things were 'pretty good' and then it started to happen. I think the psychiatrist wanted to lower his dose on one of his medications and I remember vaguely being like mmm... I'm not sure that's a good idea, but then again we didn't want him to medicated forever if possible. So we did it... and that's when the problems started. I don't know if there was other underlying factors (i.e. school) that played into this, but what I do know was we lowered the meds and he started hearing 'voices'. Come to find out his bio-dad's grandma was institutionalized for schizophrenia... so yeah... we've got that playing a part here too. The voices were 'okay' at first... minor things like acting up in class... but then the voices were calling him stupid and told him they wouldn't stop unless he killed his brother. He told me this with a straight face and for once I was legitimately scared of and for my child. I immediately called my mom and let her know the situation and she agreed to come with me to the hospital this time. She wasn't here last time and thought I had 'over-exaggerated' taking him so part of me wanted her to see it for herself and the other part of me just wanted to the support. No one expects to have to hospitalize their child, its definitely not an easy decision. 

At least this time I was better informed on the process, and since he had been there before it made it a little easier. I called his psychiatrist and let her know what was going on. She called ahead and let them know we were on our way. When we first got to intake, it seemed to take a long time and of course I was nervous. Knowing the bed situation from a couple years ago... it hadn't gotten any better. He was still under 13 and so had to be on a pediatric unit and there's only 15 beds in the whole valley. As we were waiting there, W escalated and started spitting on my mom, trying to kick her and yelling "I hate you" over and over again. She had never seen this side of him and I could see in her eyes she finally understood why we were there and what I had been going through with him. They didn't have a room for him, BUT they knew they couldn't send him home. This time he was homicidal and suicidal. So they found a spare area for him where they set up a cot and had someone supervise him for the night. A room opened the next day and he stayed there for 10 days while they evaluated and worked on getting his medication stable. I didn't visit him as much like I did the first time. I did talk to him on the phone, but I wanted him to focus on getting better. When I did go to visit him, he told me he still didn't feel safe being with his younger brother just in case and asked if he could go live with my parents for a bit. We only had a three bedroom house at the time, so there wasn't really a way to separate the boys and the girl was getting older where she needed her own room. I talked with my parents and they agreed. 

To say I felt helpless and like a failure at this point is probably a good way to sum it up. Here I was... always been the constant thing in his life and I couldn't have him live with me. This was putting stress on everything and everyone else in my life and I just had to repeat to myself that I was doing what was best for him at this time. From April 2016 - Dec. 2017, he lived with my parents and would come visit/stay with us on the weekends. My parents lived maybe 10 minutes away, so I was easily able to go visit him, but it was still really different. 

As for his diagnosis, this last time was now bipolar manic with psychotic features, autism and adhd. His medications seem to be working and he hasn't been hospitalized again since this last time thankfully.