I guess I thought I posted about our doctor troubles, but I looked back and saw that I never did. I deja-vued Twitter. Or Facebook. Or the mom board I'm on. I'm getting old if I can't remember where I write something. Or I have too many places that I can write.
A few months ago I got a letter from the psychiatrist Holland has been seeing for over 4 years that he was closing his practice. He was taking a new position in another state and wished us well. He gave a few names of doctors he might recommend (no doctor ever should have to commit to any advice, you know). But all of those doctors were either not on my insurance list, were full and not taking new patients or didn't think they could help us because we were too complicated. I so misunderstood what a psychiatrist does. Someone might want to add a definition to Wikipedia so we lay-people can understand their job. After calling about 8 different doctors, I finally found one that was on my insurance but couldn't see us for a whole month! Ridiculous. The mental health care in the U.S. is appalling if I can't get an appointment for a month. And he also didn't want to see Holland first. He wanted to see Super Hero and I. So then I had to call around for an interpreter ("why can't you interpret? You sign, don't you? Well, okay. If you're refusing to do it, we'll find someone".) I just ignore people who put it this way. They are clueless and me trying to educate them will just frustrate me more. After 45 minutes of talking, explaining, answering questions, he tells me it's not bipolar, but looks like results of meth use in-utero. He said lots of babies born in Portland have moms that used meth. I explained our son was born in San Diego. Whew! We're in the clear. Turns out, he was exactly right. I contacted the gramma and found out that in fact she (birth mom) had used meth and probably other drugs (but she would never admit to them).
So skip forward about 2 weeks and I've hit my limit. I tried to take him to his new summer school program. Sparing the ugly, ugly details, I had to call the police and then my sister and I ended up driving him to the emergency room to have him admitted for observation. My intent was to get him in inpatient care and the only way to do that is through the emergency room. It was a horrid 5 hours of sitting, waiting, filling out paper work and Holland begging to go home so he could swim in his aunt's new pool. When we finally found out he'd be able to be admitted, it was 10 p.m. He was exhausted. I was exhausted. And then I noticed 2 big security guys come into his room. They actually had to use big security guys to strongarm him over to the pediatric psych unit. That was the most horrible day. But I had run out of options. There are really no options left when you have to call the police and take your son to the ER in hopes they see a need for inpatient care.
He's been there over a week. And apart from yesterday's little encounter with an on-call nurse, the staff have been wonderful. His inpatient psych is smart, to the point, doesn't mince words and lets me ask any questions I want to. The nursing staff is friendly, patient, and respectful of Holland as a human being. The only problem we're having is food. He won't eat anything they've given him. The dietician and I worked on a gluten-free menu that was great. Lots of options. Food did not look like hospital food. I've wanted to eat most of the meals. They've resorted to giving him protein drinks and said I could bring in anything I wanted. So today I'm bringing in his GF oatmeal, lots of fresh fruit and veggies and I also made GF bread that he's been munching on.
I don't know exactly when he will come home. They've adjusted his meds and want to make sure he's on good doses before they send him home. They've given me lots of doctor resources and counselor's names that hopefully I will find someone wonderful and close by. The first few days were the worst. I couldn't even say goodbye because he got upset, anxious, mad that I was leaving. But he's been better the last few days. Knowing that I'll come back. Now he just needs to make the connection that when he's finished doing what they need him to do (group meetings, individual counseling) he can come home. His lack of executive-functioning is not making that connection. Pray that he will just make a compromise and talk so he can get out of there quicker.