I’m going to try to explain what happened in small doses, because I am short on time, and because I’m short on spirit.
For those who might not read regularly, Joseph has mental and emotional/behavioral issues, as well as specific learning disabilities. As a result, he is on medication to help regulate his emotional control (a very mild form, as we recognized the need, but needed to balance it with our genuine concern for long term effect data shortage.) He is on an IEP at school which includes special education, regular class, and counseling. He has outside mental health care as well. He’s been having serious trouble with another child at the school who has known him for years, and know all his buttons and triggers, and has no compunction in using this knowledge.
The school is aware of everything – including this other child.
On Thursday, we got a call around 1pm. The school was asking us to come down, as they couldn’t find Joseph, and felt that he might have possibly gone off campus. I stayed home, and Poe went to handle it. He has before. Joseph has run before. One of his issues was using violence against those he was angry or upset with. After years, he now understands that’s wrong. Instead, he runs. It’s his natural fight or flight response on overdrive. In the past, he’s stayed close to the school. Poe got there and called me to say that the school didn’t know where he was. They asked us whether we wanted them to call the police.
You’ve lost our son, and you ask us if we want you to call the police? Yes. He’s 9 and needs to be found. They locked down the school until he was found. One mom was in the office, complaining to the secretary about how it was really inconvenient, and she took time off work for her meeting, and blah blah blah. My husband was standing right there, and told her, “I’m so very sorry that my son’s disappearance has inconvenienced you ma’am.” She just gave him a dirty look.
What led to this? I found out later that this other child has been “stealing” Joseph’s friends (again) and sending glares Joseph’s way. Well, it got to be one glare too many and he ran. What the school failed to tell us at the time – he had an aide with him, who failed to attempt to follow him.
Thus started an hour’s nightmare of the police crawling over our town trying to find him, them coming to the house (I stayed home in case Joseph called us,) giving them his most recent photos, etc. I explained that he has issues, briefly, but serious, and that no one at the school seemed to be aware of any particular incident that day. Then came that interminable wait. Waiting is awful.
Eventually we got the call that Joseph had been found. And here’s the kicker that starts it all. He was found on the effing freeway. He had walked all the way from school – PAST our house – and onto the freeway on ramp a block away. He was trying to get to the mountains to run away, and that was the route he knows. When he’s in his heightened state, he has no way of thinking through actions/reactions/consequences. He put himself and other drivers in danger, true. However, even though I was available, and police knew this, the police sergeant on the case decided without speaking to me about his history to put him under an involuntary 72 hour hold, because he was obviously (in his mind) trying to kill himself.
If he had talked to me first, he may have realized that putting a 9 year old in a mental institution could possibly be detrimental to him, and that he has therapists on call willing to come to him to help him through this mental crisis. He didn’t. Once he signed the order, too, it was out of everyone’s hands. They wouldn’t let me see him at the freeway, just told me to leave and go to the hospital. I ran home, got his medical information, my ID, etc, and headed to the hospital. On the way I called his psychiatrist and his therapist and put them on the alert.
When I got there I found my 9 year old son handcuffed to a hospital bed, purple with fury, and stiff as a board. As soon as he saw me, he started to cry, his joints loosened, his color started coming back down to normal. After a few minutes, they saw my effect on him and removed the handcuffs. They threatened him with restraints, but he didn’t understand – although I did. I briefly saw his shoulder. The fire department personnel physically removed him from the side of the freeway, and he was all banged up. Apparently he socked one of the firefighters who was hauling him. The police wanted him charged with assault.
The doctor spoke briefly too us, but really, he didn’t do anything. They took his vitals, but that’s it. He never got psych care there. Their role was to take custody of us, and for the hospital’s social worker to find a mental institution that takes pediatric patients. It took a couple of hours, but they found one. I was informed that I would be arrested if I tried to leave with him. At some point, Poe came and relieved me, and I went home to Logan to eat something and just take a break. You see, the judgment and stares you get when there’s mental issues involved feels heavy. I had to handle the bulk as my parents were on vacation (but were on their way back as soon as they heard) and Logan needed to be cared for. Joseph’s behavior was completely calm in ER for the many hours we were there. At the mental institution it would be several more hours until a bed was available. At 10pm an ambulance was sent for him. I wasn’t allowed to take him myself. I followed the ambulance to the mental institution 15 miles away. (We would continue to drive 30 miles a day every day for this.) It took them 3 more hours to get him checked in, due to a shift change. I got home around 1:30am. He didn’t get to bed until about 2:30am (and then awoken at the normal wake up time at 6am Friday.) He was exhausted. Just exhausted. His normal bedtime is 9pm. It was all just so disjointed. I kept wanting to say, “but he’s a kid.” “It’s past his bedtime.” “He hasn’t had his bath.” I mean underneath all of the crap – he was thrilled to ride in a real ambulance. He’s a child. It was such a grown up situation, and he looked so very small. So very tired. Trying to keep brave, as he couldn’t remember everything, but knew he caused this.
When I got home, because I wasn’t allowed to stay, my husband tried to hug me, but I wouldn’t let him. I had held it together for 12 hours, but I needed to tell him the important stuff first. I had to tell him that the 72 hours would be up at 2:25pm on Sunday afternoon. That we would be called tomorrow about his care, and for them to get his history. That we could visit 5:30-7pm nightly, but that’s all we could see him.
Then we went to bed. And I lost it. Totally, completely, thoroughly. It wasn’t pretty.
I asked Poe what kind of mother leaves her child at a mental institution (as if I had a choice?) He said, “The kind who’s kid plays on freeways.” Gallows humor. Gallows humor certainly got us through this week.
That afternoon and night was surreal. Strange. Sort of seen like it wasn’t really us – like I was watching a play or something.
To be contined.
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