Discovery Part 6
story resumes from here...
It's the afternoon now and the "American Revival" conference has come to a close. My sister in law and I are driving away out of the parking lot and my brother in law (who is also our pastor) calls. He relays the events of the day to my sister in law. A phone call from my husband follows...our son has been taken by ambulance to a local hospital.
Early that morning our son's psychosis escalates. Psychosis is a very real brain disorder. There are a group of scientists who have concluded that during a psychotic episode, brain cells are destroyed. More on that in another post.
I want to be careful about what I share here, but sense a duty to do so at the same time. Many family members, including myself, want to protect our loved ones fiercely. Yet cruelly, this lack of speaking out works against advocacy for the seriously mentally ill. Thus this dilemma. Unfortunately, the ones who do speak out, do so only after they experience a tragedy. That's not an attractive option for me, so I'm speaking out now.
I will briefly describe what this looked like in our son. He went to neighbor's homes and rang their doorbells. He stood on their front porches singing the lines to one of his favorite songs at the time, over and over. He ran through the streets, jumped up and down on my oldest son's nice car. Was chased through the neighborhood by his brothers. Neighbors came out of their homes angry about what my son was doing, our oldest son calmed them down. Finally the chase ended on a very busy street outside of our neighborhood. Five police officers were chasing him. He wouldn't stop. He was so strong during this episode that he even pushed an officer down. He ended up in the middle of the road, stopping traffic. They had to tazer my son to stop him.
From the bottom of my heart, I am so grateful beyond words for how these officers handled the situation. Many stories do not end this way. The police had him transported to a hospital immediately.
Thank God they did this. They could have persued criminal charges but they were very well trained, professional and compassionate.
What I just described is not a description of my son's character. It is behavior consistent with a brain this is not working as God intended. We may not be able to accurately define what is happening in the brain or cure it at this time, but it is a very real illness nonetheless. It also may not manifest itself as Alzheimer's does, but in both cases the brain is relaying information, fragmented, delusional at times. Something is not working right. This is not the person's fault. Not mom's fault, or dad's fault. It is a brain disorder. Beautiful. Terrible.
Our son is hospitalized overnight then transported to a place in Phoenix called "UPC", Urgent Psychiatric Center. Arizona has involuntary treatment and the UPC is the main intake center for serious mental illness.
I call the next day to speak with someone at UPC, to inquire about my son. As you can imagine I was terrified of the unknown, "what is this place in Phoenix?", "how are they treating him?", "what is happening to him?" My fears don't even match the words that come across from the other end of the phone line as I speak to a man on staff with frantic questions...
"Ma'am, your son is a psychopath. Pack his suitcase and give him the number to a homeless shelter."
was his reply.
To a mother whose son just experienced his first psychotic episode. Searching for help. This is what I received from them. Not only that, but he was 18. Now the HIPPA law protected our son and there was no way the UPC or other hospitals, we soon found out, were going to give us any information about our son or his treatment. They wouldn't even ask us for his history.
My heart sank to the literal depths of the earth. I was beyond devastated at his words. My soul plummeted and tears fell just as hard.
But in the very next moment when I thought I would sink to the abyss, the phone rang. A friend called. A friend who had no idea what was going on at that moment. A friend I had not spoken to in a long time. A friend who just so happened to also struggle with a mental illness...
and she pulled me out of the pit.
By the grace of God.
"He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure."~ Psalm 40:2
...and this Rock solid grace is just the beginning of what is about to sustain us, as the nightmare begins...
It's the afternoon now and the "American Revival" conference has come to a close. My sister in law and I are driving away out of the parking lot and my brother in law (who is also our pastor) calls. He relays the events of the day to my sister in law. A phone call from my husband follows...our son has been taken by ambulance to a local hospital.
Early that morning our son's psychosis escalates. Psychosis is a very real brain disorder. There are a group of scientists who have concluded that during a psychotic episode, brain cells are destroyed. More on that in another post.
I want to be careful about what I share here, but sense a duty to do so at the same time. Many family members, including myself, want to protect our loved ones fiercely. Yet cruelly, this lack of speaking out works against advocacy for the seriously mentally ill. Thus this dilemma. Unfortunately, the ones who do speak out, do so only after they experience a tragedy. That's not an attractive option for me, so I'm speaking out now.
I will briefly describe what this looked like in our son. He went to neighbor's homes and rang their doorbells. He stood on their front porches singing the lines to one of his favorite songs at the time, over and over. He ran through the streets, jumped up and down on my oldest son's nice car. Was chased through the neighborhood by his brothers. Neighbors came out of their homes angry about what my son was doing, our oldest son calmed them down. Finally the chase ended on a very busy street outside of our neighborhood. Five police officers were chasing him. He wouldn't stop. He was so strong during this episode that he even pushed an officer down. He ended up in the middle of the road, stopping traffic. They had to tazer my son to stop him.
From the bottom of my heart, I am so grateful beyond words for how these officers handled the situation. Many stories do not end this way. The police had him transported to a hospital immediately.
Thank God they did this. They could have persued criminal charges but they were very well trained, professional and compassionate.
What I just described is not a description of my son's character. It is behavior consistent with a brain this is not working as God intended. We may not be able to accurately define what is happening in the brain or cure it at this time, but it is a very real illness nonetheless. It also may not manifest itself as Alzheimer's does, but in both cases the brain is relaying information, fragmented, delusional at times. Something is not working right. This is not the person's fault. Not mom's fault, or dad's fault. It is a brain disorder. Beautiful. Terrible.
Our son is hospitalized overnight then transported to a place in Phoenix called "UPC", Urgent Psychiatric Center. Arizona has involuntary treatment and the UPC is the main intake center for serious mental illness.
I call the next day to speak with someone at UPC, to inquire about my son. As you can imagine I was terrified of the unknown, "what is this place in Phoenix?", "how are they treating him?", "what is happening to him?" My fears don't even match the words that come across from the other end of the phone line as I speak to a man on staff with frantic questions...
"Ma'am, your son is a psychopath. Pack his suitcase and give him the number to a homeless shelter."
was his reply.
To a mother whose son just experienced his first psychotic episode. Searching for help. This is what I received from them. Not only that, but he was 18. Now the HIPPA law protected our son and there was no way the UPC or other hospitals, we soon found out, were going to give us any information about our son or his treatment. They wouldn't even ask us for his history.
My heart sank to the literal depths of the earth. I was beyond devastated at his words. My soul plummeted and tears fell just as hard.
But in the very next moment when I thought I would sink to the abyss, the phone rang. A friend called. A friend who had no idea what was going on at that moment. A friend I had not spoken to in a long time. A friend who just so happened to also struggle with a mental illness...
and she pulled me out of the pit.
By the grace of God.
"He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure."~ Psalm 40:2
...and this Rock solid grace is just the beginning of what is about to sustain us, as the nightmare begins...
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