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Life is Strange.
8/28/10
Sometimes, life is very strange and very incomprehensible. Not in the sense that nothing makes sense, but more in the sense of, ‘Is this really happening?’ or more realistically, it’s like I get it, but ‘I just don’t know how to deal with it’.
 In late April, I was jarred from a peaceful sleep at 2.30 by an acute but somewhat frantic voice of a paramedic asking about my son’s medical and mental health history. Imagine trying to figure out, as you’re worried to death and you’re being poked by your wife because she too wants to know, what’s going on. You tell the paramedic there’s no history of mental illness, that my son’s in fine medical health and then, just as quickly, the voice is gone, replaced by a calm feminine police officer who addresses me way to formally.
The officer tells us matter of fact tone that my son was dodging traffic and is quite incoherent. They are transferring him to Mercy for his own protection, and after offering up a telephone number for the ER, we’re told there’s nothing more to do till morning.
I do not understand how on one fine and bright Spring day a person can be a fun, intelligent and normal person and the next, literally hearing the ‘Universe’ talk to you, urging you to do things that normal people do not do. I have been told, this is indeed, possible. That at 19, he is at the age of onset, and more, that if my wife and I knew the signs, we would have seen them. All in all, we are told, a switch went on, or off, and just like that, his life changed, and certainly not for the better. If the last 5 months are in any way indicative of what life holds in store for him, his life will be more than just a mere struggle, and in fact, will probably be a life filled with more misery than joy. In this last 5 months he has been in five separate facilities. To date, no one from any single facility, including his county case worker have bothered to actually call us regarding a move. Actually, no one has called us about anything. If my wife and I were not taking the initiative to call and ask, we wouldn’t have a clue. Actually, last Wednesday morning, the County didn’t have a clue where he was when I called.
I received an 8.45 call from Sean last (Fri.) night that they moved him to a holding facility in Mankato. That is over a three hour drive but the larger question looms, How can I be an advocate for my son when he’s been moved to the southern part of the state? In the back of my mind, I wonder if there’s some kind of retribution going on for getting pissed at the County for not knowing where Sean was, but no, people can’t be that mean, that petty, at least I hope so. Any way, he no longer has any real personal possessions. He has lost his wallet, his ID, shoes, sandals, clothes and other personal things in all the moves. Every time he’s packed up, something seems to go missing until now when there’s nothing left to go missing.
One facility he was in is suing him because he broke a table, he has creditors sending threatening letters for payment for all his medical bills, and one day he gets paperwork from the county saying his MA is approved, and the next, paperwork sayings it’s denied. I call and talk to his case manage and I’m told they are planning on sending him to a pretty good facility where he should do real well, and the next...., well, I get a call from Sean saying he’s in Mankato.
I manage this because, and only because, I have an absurd sense of humor.
There are bright spots. After 5 months his meds seem to be working. For a while there, all he was doing was sleeping. You couldn’t talk to him with out him falling off to sleep. Then there was the hard psychotic stare that popped up from time to time along with his incessant pacing back in forth is a 10x10 room.
It’s not perfect yet, but there does seem to be a middle ground where he can actually set and talk, now if we can just get him to stay there, and yes, in the long run, the choice is his, as much as he has the ability to choose.
As much as I write about my son, I find I should also write about myself. This is after all, about me, and writing serves as my own personal soothing balm for open wounds waiting to heal. For what it’s worth, this one will never heal.
Know too, that I don’t buy into any belief that stipulates god gives you trial and tribulation but never more than you can handle. What I do buy into is that there’s something more than just god, something better, something cooler and try as hard as I can, I can’t imagine what that would be. I’m OK with that. I guess I’m saying I believe in God, just not everyone else’s god. I also know that this last summer, I’ve changed as a person. I’ve always been private, now I just want to be left alone. That’s not necessarily a good thing but my wife and I have needed the time.
Of course, we did manage to take a nice vacation out East. We needed that breather but you still go to bed every night and wake up every morning thinking about the same thing. Sometimes, like last night, the time frame between going to sleep and waking up is relatively short because your so pissed, you really don’t sleep.
Yep, angers a big part of our lives these days. I’m sure we’re not the nicest people to be around. I get that. It’d be nice to think that someday, and someday soon, life will be normal, but I suspect, this is the new normal for us.
You know, that’s OK, because I love Sean and I’ll always be there for him. I have to say though, mental illness is a disease, an illness, not something that’s contagious, or some punishment given by god. It’s somewhat treatable, and consider too, the old adage, ‘There but by the grace of god, go I’.
Some of you out there in the world gotta figure that out.
So now you all know....
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