Sunday 17 April 2011

Thoughts on the past

I know people say that the past is past, that the future is not ours to see (I do believe that is a song), that the present is a gift and the only thing we need.  That to be present in today is what is truly important.  I believe all this, but can I truly say that I always live in the 'present'?  Not if I am totally honest (with myself and with you - whoever who is out there reading this blog). 

Lately, I have been reminded of events from my past.  Whether it be something I was writing about, something someone said to me or just a picture posted on a friend's facebook.  Memories - the things that we should cherish.  Yet, what if most memories are sad?  How do we overcome those?  Ah, you say, by creating good memories, new memories, happy memories that you can then dwell upon when you lie in bed at night struggling to sleep.  I learned a trick to helping me fall asleep at night and have used it many a time (again even this  brings back memories of not-so-pleasant times).  In any case, to help me sleep, I would imagine in my mind's eye, a blackboard (a whiteboard also works for  those who are younger).  There is a bottom edge to this black/white board - you see it in your mind's eye as well as a piece of chalk (or erasable markers) and an eraser..  You think of this  blackboard and you see yourself picking up the chalk and writing down the number '100', then you see yourself putting the chalk down, picking up the  eraser and erasing the number 100.  Then you see yourself placing the eraser on the ledge of the blackboard, then picking up the chalk again and writing down the number '99' and so on.  When you find that you cannot concentrate very much anymore, stop and let your mind rest.  I can assure you that sleep will come easily.  Your mind is so tired and you have basically 'erased' all other thoughts from your mind.  Depending on what I am worried about, I have been able to fall asleep shortly after writing the number '95' - on very rough nights, I have made it to '85' (remember that it is not a matter of trying to get as many numbers as possible, it is a matter of when your mind is tired of 'thinking') - do not force anything.

Thankfully, I have not had to use this method to fall asleep in a quite a while, because I have not had much that was weighing that heavy on my mind.  But last night, I found myself picking up that chalk - I think I was in the low 90s before I finally was able to relax enough to fall asleep. 

I had seen a picture of a friend's son with his latest Tae-Kwon-Do belt (yellow striped).  It brought back memories of a time long ago, when my son was in Tae-Kwon-Do (hereafter referred to as TKD) and his progress in earning belts.  I don't quite remember which was the last belt he earned, but it did bring back memories of why we put him in TKD (he was very excited about it by the way).  Our son was often bullied in school.  So, we, as parents, thought that TKD would give him more self-confidence and he would know he 'could' defend himself against any bullies, or at the very least, if bullies knew he had taken TKD, they would stop bullying him.  Well, it kind of back-fired because when it came time to progress to the more advanced level of 'spar-ing', our son decided he did not want to continue, he did not want to fight with anyone.  We did not force him to continue, altho we tried to encourage him to at least try.  But he was adamant, and so we let it be.  Did it help his self-esteem?  We admired his kindness and his unwillingness to 'fight', but we wished he could learn how to fight (only to defend himself).  But these were not the thoughts that  kept me awake.  These memories of my past only triggered more memories - of a time that I had shoved at the back of my mind and preferred that it stay there.  But it reared its ugly head last night and I had to once again take out my blackboard in my mind's eye so I could sleep.

It brought back memories of my son's first hospitalization.  Of a time of confusion and horror.  After some odd behavior on his part and due to the fact that he had not slept in over a week, we had convinced our son that he should go to the hospital in order to get something to help him sleep, something to help him relax enough to sleep.  After many hours of waiting in the ER room, we were finally brought to 'that room' and saw a psychiatrist, who admitted our son to  the psychiatric wing of the hospital.  This was so perplexing for us, so confusing.  Our son was taken away and put in a locked unit where we could not go see him.  We were left outside the unit, with no-one to talk to, with no-one to tell us what was happening.  There was one nurse who came over and gave us the telephone number of the unit and told us we could call the next day to see how our son was doing.  So, we left the hospital, scared, angry (yes angry), in tears (I cried  so many tears  that night after we left the hospital), but falling in bed out of pure exhaustion.  The next day, I immediately called the number I had been given in the hope of finally getting some answers.  Had my son finally slept?  Was he OK now?  Could I bring him home now?  All I got was a 'he is resting now' and 'no he cannot have visitors' and 'someone will contact you - either the social worker or his  doctor'.  So another day was spent not knowing what was going on.  No-one called us - I kept calling every morning asking the same question - asking also when someone would contact us to explain what was going on, and being given the same things - someone would contact us.  I could not even get the name of the psychiatrist who was now his 'doctor'.  I did ask if his family doctor was involved in this, only to be told 'no, he is under the care of a psychiatrist who will contact you'.  But when??? 

And so we waited - waited 4 long and anxious days until finally, at 11 p.m. four days after he was brought to the hospital, we got a call from the hospital telling us that there would be a Tribunal the next day  at 9 a.m. and would we be interested in attending?  Of course we would!!!  Thankfully at that time, my husband was not working and where I worked, I could easily call in sick the next morning.  But what exactly was  a Tribunal?  We had no idea.  I googled it on the internet and there was very little information - just that it was some kind of a hearing.  What sort of a hearing?  My son had done nothing unlawful.  At least not before being admitted in the hospital.  So I slept fitfully, but made sure that my  alarm was set for 6  a.m. so I could (1) call in sick at work; (2) take a shower; (3) get dressed; (4)  have enough time to be at the hospital by 8:30 to ensure we would be in time for this Tribunal.

We soon found out what a Tribunal was.  It was comprised of a lawyer, the head nurse in charge of the psychiatric unit, the psychiatrist in charge of my son, and a patient advocate.  I was told that my son was not well enough to attend.  The first thing that happened was the psychiatrist telling us that our son had been given a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia.  I tentatively asked 'what is that?' and he said 'it is an incurable illness and he will be on medication for the rest of his life'.  I started crying.  When I was able to regain my composure (as quickly as possible as I knew that I needed to get as much information as possible - my feelings were not important at this time - I could always cry later).  So I wiped those tears and said 'I am fine now' (altho I was far from fine).  They said that my son would be held for 30 days and another Tribunal would then be held to see if he was better.  All I could think of was 'but we just wanted him to get something to help him sleep.......'.  But I did not say anything.  They did ask about our son's history - we told them what we had told them when he was admitted - that he had not slept, we told them of  the strange behavior and distorted way of thinking, but we attributed all this to lack of sleep.  Was he still not sleeping?  The lawyer asked us about his childhood.  We told him how our son was a kind person, he excelled in school, he had a few close friends, and he had been bullied a lot.  The lawyer looked me straight in the eye and told me I should have enrolled him in boxing classes..   That kind of came out of the blue.  All I could think of was '...but we had him in TKD'. 

Needless to say, we left confused and feeling a bit guilty.  Maybe if we had enrolled him in boxing instead of TKD, it would have made a difference.  Maybe if  we had insisted he stayed in TKD and forced him to 'spar' it would have helped. 

That was in 1995..  Today, 6 years later, we have educated ourselves on mental illness, and our son has not been hospitalized in almost 4 years.  We are blessed. 

And I thought I had things pretty well under control and could help others now.  Yet when I saw the picture of my small nephew with his TKD yellow striped belt, all these memories came flooding back and I again found myself being unable to sleep, doubting my parenting skills when he was younger and finally reverting to my 'tried and true' method of falling asleep. 

Funny how a single thing, a simple thing, can bring back memories that one would prefer to forget.  So many memories came flooding back, so many questions of 'why', so many feelings of how helpless I had felt.  I wanted to cry. Yet tears did not come as they used to.  For I have not cried in 4 years (not even at the death of 2 of my siblings during the past 4 years) - People say that crying is good for the soul, they release tension.  I have even tried to cry, even tried to force myself to cry - watching sad movies that are 'tear-jerkers' do not help and I wonder:  Is it possible that one can actually run out of tears?  That all those tears prior to 4 years ago made my heart hard and froze any tears that might remain.  I do know that every so often, I have to get my husband to put eye-drops in my eyes, because they hurt from their dryness.  I have seen my eye doctor who has assured me there is nothing wrong with my eyes.  Maybe what is wrong is that tears come from a place within me that I dare not go to.  For that place is too painful to revisit.  I had a slight glimpse of that place last night - thank goodness for that blackboard.  It erases memories and lets you sleep.

3 comments:

  1. Wow, Louise! I was going to start my comment with "It's Sar - AH Sar-AH" but now it seems mute and uncomedic. Maybe it will make you smile, just a wee bit, still...

    While I was reading this my heart was breaking but I was seeing you sitting in a living room waiting by the phone and then on the phone, talking to the hospital and venting to your husband. A monologue of sorts :) Do you see my idea?

    In all seriousness, I knew our medical system was mixed up but wow... as his parents you should have every right to see beyond that locked door and not have to be sent home without knowing what's happening with your son.

    You need to understand that you can cry but I feel your strength in being able to write this and reflect without collapsing within yourself. Instead you get more powerful with every post.

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  2. Love you, Louise. It is amazing how such a little thing can be a spark for so much pain. Your boy truly is a gentle spirit, and this illness will never change that. You did nothing wrong. You did nothing to cause any of this, and forcing your son to spar would not have served his spirit. You respected your son for who he is, and that is the most amazing gift that you could have ever given him.

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  3. Thank you Sarah and Karrioh for your support and friendship. Sarah: Where my son was 19 (legally an adult), we as parents, had no rights. We have since gotten educated and have gotten a POA (Power of Attorney) - when our son was well and as our son wanted us to know what he wanted (no ECT - electro-shock treatments) - which they could do if they felt it necessary. But with this POA, they HAVE to legally go through us should our son relapse - if they change his meds, it would have to be with our agreement. We have already used this POA with his nurse in order for her to hear our views on using CBT (Cognitive Behavior Therapy) - without it, we could not suggest it - with it, she had to hear our concerns and could discuss it with us. Happy to say my son is now on a waiting list for CBT. The ECT is sometimes effective for depression, but not for schizophrenia, altho his doctor has been known to have used it on some patients with schizophrenia. This POA was actually our son's idea - the lawyer had to explain its contents to ensure he totally understood it before he (lawyer) would sign it. There were no problems there. (This should be another post lol - it is so long).

    I agree Karrioh, we did all we could. I know that I did not cause it. It is just too bad that the stigma is out there that parents are sometimes to blame (e.g. the lawyer). Remember too that this happened 6 years ago and I have learned much in the past 6 years.

    Today I am blessed with a wonderful son who is on the right medication for him. My son is back - kinder and more sensitive and non-judgemental of others than ever.

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