Headed South

I tell A we are going on an adventure. D drives us to the airport. Its been a long time since I’ve had to say goodbye to D at an airport. But we know it well. We know about being apart. We did it for many years. I feel a little like Super Woman. I am on a mission to save my son.

A does great the whole way down. I start to wonder what in the world I am doing. He seems fine. Did I make a big deal out of nothing? Before taking off Dr. J, now the treating doc says to give him a clonodine–I bet its working.

While we fly my mom makes arrangements with her sister who lives in Atlanta to pick us up at the airport. Aunt has had her own tragic events lately. Her husband was diagnosed with brain cancer a year ago and she has stood by his side through surgery, chemo, radiation, seizures.

I am worried A will be disruptive at her house, but he is sweet and charming. Has a lot to say. A loves their basement. Uncle has basement full of toys he has handmade and A is allowed to play with them all.

Arrangements are made for us to have A admitted at 7am. We arrive on time and wait. And wait. And wait some more. Sadly I am so used to this. I know the routines of these hospitals. So does A. How horrible. How sad that rather than playing with friends he spends the days in psychiatric waiting rooms. This feels like our last hope.

I stay strong for A. Aunt stays with us and they move us to a “family room. There is a tv and comfortable seating. In case we forgot we were in a psych hospital, they take our purses and lock them in a cabinet “to keep everyone safe.”

We wait more.

Still waiting.

Finally they do an intake. A gets admitted. His new meds- the trileptal- is already ordered for him.  I fight back the tears. This seems like a horrible way to get him healthy but I know it is the only way right now.

Aunt has to take Uncle to a doctor appointment so A and I are alone for the rest of the process. We are brought to the children’s unit and it looks all too familiar. But the staff is more gentle. They smile. They call A “sweety.” It brings me comfort. I’m not sure if he even notices– he is crying too much. It is time for goodbyes. I hug A tight and tell him I love hima nd he is strong and he can do this. They pull him off of me and I don’t look back. I hear the doors lock behind me and cringe.

Aunt is frazzled. She has to pick me up and drop off uncle. I am fine sitting and waiting. But she is from a long line of caretakers. She won’t take no for an answer and picks me up and brings me to Uncle’s appointment.

We all come back to the house. I want to help them and they want to help me. We find comfort in each other. They talk to me about hope. That is all they have. That is all I have too.

I speak to A on the phone later int he evening. He is crying so much they have to take the phone away. At 10 pm a nurse calls to tell me he did finally settle down and is sleeping. At least he has peace when he sleeps.