I remember that night….

August 2004 3:45 am:

My head bumped the left side of the vehicle, as the ambulance swerved, taking a sharp corner that lead to a brightly lit parking lot. The sharp pain distracted me briefly, but then I could see out the back window and realized we were getting closer. The long cement building was now visible through the trees and this made my heart race. The painful ache in the pit of my stomach started to churn again. I turned to my son, stretched out in front of me. My10 year old boy slept peacefully amidst the siren’s scream and it’s swirling red light. His small body looked disproportionate, spread out on the large stretcher. He was strapped onto it by three tightly fastened belts, protecting him from the abrupt motion of the speeding vehicle, which had been moving me to and fro, like a raggedy Anne Doll for almost an hour since we left Boston Children Hospital.

I sat, staring at my son, and gently stroked his soft little cheek with the back of my right pointing finger. I was wishing I could go back in time to happier days, like afternoons spent pushing my little man on his swing in our backyard and being amused by his squeals of excitement and bossy commands : “Faster Mommy, higher too, push higher, Mommy!” He was my sunshine boy but a dark cloud had been following him for months, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t chase the clouds away. He wouldn’t believe me when I told him that there was still blue sky above. I felt another ping, another sad ache, this time in my chest, where my heart was breaking, for I missed the little boy that laughed and squealed in my back yard. I whispered to him, or maybe I was whispering to myself, ” My little boy blue, where did you go? Why did you have to leave me?”

Suddenly, the two back ambulance doors swung open. Startled, I wiped the tears off my cheeks and watched the two paramedics lift my son and his stretcher out of the ambulance. As I crouched to follow them, I bumped my head once again on the roof. I wanted to swear this time, not from the pain of the bump but because of what was happening. I was angry. Why was this happening to my boy? Why us?

Rubbing the bump on the top of my head, I chased after the men and saw my son’s father waiting for us by the hospital’s emergency door. He looked like hell, the way I was feeling and must have looked too. We both had been up for almost 20 hours and it had been one hell of a stormy night. We were both feeling powerless and frightened by what was happening. My son’s world had been colliding at a fast and furious pace and there was nothing we could do but watch and pray.

The cool summer night air was still, only the sound of August crickets and the clattering of the stretcher’s metal wheels rolling and hitting gravel in the paved parking lot spoke to us. Inside the hospital it was quiet too. We followed my son being wheeled down a long, white, winding corridor until we came to a stop. One of the paramedics rang a doorbell and we waited. A minute passed and the paramedic rang it again, when suddenly two very large eyes, magnified to the size of golf balls, appeared. The strange looking old man peered out from the tiny tinted glass opening at the top of the locked door. He reminded me of the Wizard wanting to know who was trying to enter Oz. I thought about how the man must be blind, to have an eyeglass prescription of that strength as I waited for him to let us in. Then I heard him unbolting the latch and as the door slowly opened, my heart thumped faster. I worried about what could be waiting for my son on the other side.

One last click of the lock and the older paramedic spoke, ” This is the one from Children’s; left Boston an hour ago after you called and said you had a bed available. Hit a lot of detours. Gotta love the Big Dig.”

The legally blind old man snorted back, “We were wondering if you were going to show.” The two men laughed.

I felt short of breath, and my heart was now beating like a bongo drum. We followed the old man inside, and I nervously looked around, feeling uneasy by the hallway’s strange silence. The patients were sleeping. Just the night nurse and old man were in the lobby. The nurse was being briefed by one of the paramedics and the old man was now staring at me. The old man asked for the bag I was holding. I told him it was filled with a few things that I had rushed to pack for the hospital. I handed it over the lobby desk and watched him go through it like they do at the airport. He pulled out a belt and said, “He can’t keep this here. Take this home, but everything else is fine.” Then the nurse handed me papers and asked me to begin filling them out. I had filled out a book of papers in Boston so I handed them to my son’s father, not feeling like I could stand to fill out another batch of the same thing. My son’s father took the papers and began to record both sides of my son’s gene pool and then I happened to notice one of the paramedics waking my son and helping him off the stretcher. My boy looked dazed and confused, not knowing where he was. I watched the young man in uniform lead him down another hall, and I quickly asked the nurse if I could follow.

” When your husband finishes the papers, you’ll both get to say goodbye.”, she flatly responded.

I sat and waited and within 15 minutes, which felt like a year, we were allowed to see him. The night nurse led us to a solitary room, separated from the rest on the floor. “This is the admitting room, where he’ll be observed for tonight. Probably part of tomorrow where it’s about 4:30 am now.” I half listened to what she was telling us, as I just focused on wanting to see my boy. Walking into the room, I was surprised by the emptiness. The room was completely bare and sterile. A mattress without a frame or box spring sat on the linoleum floor and there were no sheets or pillowcase. Lying in a fetus position I spotted my boy, his head buried into the pillow that he clutched to his belly like a medieval knight shielding himself with armor. He was trembling and crying uncontrollably. When he heard us enter the room, he quickly sat up. His cheeks were flushed and the top of his pillow was wet from the outpouring of tears.

My little boy lost looked the way I was feeling; completely terrified. He began to plead with us to take him home.

“Please take me home, Don’t leave me here. I’m scared, I hate this place don’t leave me here mommy. You can’t leave me here!”

My heart was breaking. I wanted to snatch him up and run, but I knew there was no way out. We were given no choice. We had to prevent him from hurting himself again. His inner demons were too large for us to battle alone.

I bent down to hold him tight. Sitting beside him on the bare mattress, I wrapped both my arms around him and rocked him the way I did when he was just a baby, crying in the middle of the night, needing to be fed. My heart was being pulled in a way I had never experienced before, but I tried to appear strong for my boy. I whispered into his little ear, “You’ll be okay baby. Everything will be alright. I love you so much!”

Then the night nurse tapped me on the shoulder and told us we had to leave. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, to pull away from my lost little boy.

Once I was out of my son’s view, I didn’t give a damn who saw me cry. There was no holding back my tears. The old man led us out and I could hear my boy calling after us. “Come back! Mom! Dad! Don’t leave me here! You can’t leave me here!” My boy’s dad was crying now too and as the old man said to us, “He’ll be okay, you folks can call the doctor tomorrow. He makes the rounds around 10:00 am.”

The last sound I remember was the steel metal door closing behind us and the sound of the old man locking and bolting the door. The sound of the deadbolt and lock haunted me during the two hour ride home.

I looked out the car window and saw the sun was just starting to rise. Then I looked up at the new day’s sky and asked HIM, “Why?”

Why?

(Every 40 seconds, someone asks why….Please watch the video above and pay attention to Christopher Reeves words at the end.)

Fast Tube by Casper

Fast Tube by Casper

“The hour of adversity be not without hope / For crystal rain falls from black clouds.”~Persian Poem

Troubled Teens

The above narrative is a true account of the first time my son was hospitalized after being diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

When your child suffers from a mental illness or depression, it is overwhelming for the family. Many times, it can be pushed under the rug and denial is present. That is a tragic mistake.

All too frequently, depression can go undiagnosed or symptoms can be misread by the parent. A child or teenager’s lethargy or disinterest in activities once enjoyed can be seen as just a “blue mood” or bad attitude. Too frequently the parent will tell the child or teen to, “Snap out of it” not realizing the child is suffering from a serious medical condition, that if left untreated , is life threatening.

A suicide attempt can be a cry for help and statistics show that suicide is the 4th leading cause of death among teens.

Whether you raise a child with an emotional/mood disorder or not, depression is real among adolescence. What triggers it can vary from genetics, brain chemistry, hormonal changes, situational or environmental factors, stress and anxiety, a broken relationship or trauma, etc. The illness doesn’t just happen to other people. It can strike anyone at anytime. It’s important to understand and recognize the warning signs. If sadness and withdrawal, or unusual behavior persists for more than two weeks, it’s important to have your child checked. Don’t deny the fact that your teen could be suffering from an illness that he can’t “snap out of” on his own. Get your teen help.

Before it’s too late.

Fast Tube by Casper

Learn the Facts

* Four out of five teens who attempt suicide have given clear warnings.

* Teen suicide was the third leading cause of death among young adults and adolescents 15-24 years of age, following homicide.

* Major adolescent depression, if left untreated, will rarely go away on it’s own.

* Relapses are extremely common and should always be prevented.

* If left untreated, they can turn to alcohol or drugs to take the pain away.

* Early intervention is key!

Warning signs for teen depression:

* Suicide threats or a simple statement , ” I wish I were dead.”

* Obsession with death

* Drawings, poems referring to death

* Changed eating or sleeping patterns

* Severe drop in school performance

* Giving away belongings

* Change in personality or appearance

* Verbal hints, “I won’t be trouble to you anymore.”

* Throws away important possessions

* Aggressive behavior

* Fatigue

* Substance Abuse

Warning Signs in Children (age 10-14):

Fast Tube by Casper

* irritable, cranky moods

* Talk about running away from home or run away attempts

* Oppositional behavior

* giving away toys, drawing pictures or writing about death

* frequent complaints of headache, stomach ache, or physical complaints

* Persistent boredom or loss of interest in sports, games, friends, activities

Teens with bipolar disorder are at an increased risk of suicide.

**Not all signs need to be present. A good student who is popular can commit suicide. it is important to watch for two or three signs of suicidal thinking or depression.

TALKING ABOUT FEELINGS IS AN IMPORTANT PART OF SUICIDE PREVENTION.

Teen suicide is a real problem in the United States. Pressures can have a variety of sources; a parent being out of work, family or social issues, peer pressure, a break up, etc.

If you suspect your teen is depressed, make sure there are no fire arms present in the house. Contact professional help immediately.

You don’t want to ever ask the question, “Why?”

References:

www.safeyouth.org/scripts/teens/depression.asp

www.nami.org

http://www.nami.org/Content/ContentGroups/Helpline1/NAMI_Bipolar_Disorder_Aug08.pdf

http://www.nami.org/Content/ContentGroups/CAAC/Family_Guide_final.pdf

CABF/

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