Discovery Part 8
“Experience should teach us to be most on our guard to protect liberty when the government's purposes are beneficent. Men born to freedom are naturally alert to repel invasion of their liberty by evil-minded rulers. The greatest dangers to liberty lurk in insidious encroachment by men of zeal, well-meaning but without understanding."
[Olmstead v. U.S. (1928)]”
― Louis D. Brandeis
story resumes from here...
What I'm going to write about next may seem as if I am the most thankless mom who ever walked the face of the earth. I mean, my son was just placed on a 6 member ACT team. A cherished support for the critically mentally ill in a country that has systematically shut down psychiatric hospitals since the 1970s.
Yet, write I must.
First I must tell that our current circumstances have found us without health insurance. Something I first believe is another tragic affliction and just one more bad scene to a non stop living nightmare. But as it would turn out, comes to be a blessing in disguise.
Our son is assigned to an experienced psychiatrist and a lead case manager, with 5 supportive case managers. He must be seen immediately after hospitalization by the doctor and consequently must be followed up with home visits from the case manager.
At first I am not concerned about the home visit. I'm distracted with my son's adjustment back into our home. Yet the home visits continue. Weekly. And with different managers each time.
Something begins to rub me the wrong way about this, but can't quite put my finger on it...
And I begin to form an opinion about these visits. I don't like them. I discuss this with a friend who is very familiar with the Constitution. I discuss the moral dilemma, I am a Christian after all and I want to be friendly and kind. Yet in the pit of my gut I want to protect my family. In part of our discussion she helps me to see what is assumed in our law, that as parents, we have the right to be responsible for our own families.
A short time afterward the psychiatrist visits our home with his nurse. They bring a case manager "in training" who I've never met before. The doctor proceeds to tell me that one of the previous case managers that visited our son in my home did not "feel welcomed" by me. I proceed, as strongly and graciously as I can, to share my opinion on home visits by people whom I've never met and by other staff. I did not mind having someone in our home initially, but did not see the need to continue with the visits. The doctor then explains to me about their policies regarding an ACT team and I then voice my concern again. We leave it at that.
My father visits me from out of town the next week and we are preparing a meal on the kitchen counter. The door bell rings and it is a different case worker, a man, with another case worker in training. They speak with my son and as my father and I continue to chop food for meal prep, they walk directly into our kitchen and open the refrigerator to check to see if I have food without my permission. And as if I needed anymore fuel for my stance, the following week the new case worker comes again only to say to me as I open my door, "I am here to establish my presence!".
The days that follow I am on the phone with the state's insurance provider for behavioral health. I request the home visits stop. I am directed to call my son's clinic's director. I set up an appointment and was brought into a room where an attempt was made to dissuade me, I stick to my guns. Shortly after this meeting I am called into a meeting with the case manager. I was told that I could have my son step down to a less supportive team, but would lose his current psychiatrist. I do not want to do this as I feel he now knows my son and I want my son to have a continuum of care, so I refuse to allow the step down.
Her and I go back and forth, yet I hold my ground. I leave the clinic that day without a resolution. But a few days later I receive a call...
The clinic comes up with a compromise: they will meet my son in the community somewhere, if I will bring my son to them. I agree they can meet outside at a park behind our home or a book store down the street.
By God's grace, a small victory is won that day. Just one of many to come.
[Olmstead v. U.S. (1928)]”
― Louis D. Brandeis
story resumes from here...
What I'm going to write about next may seem as if I am the most thankless mom who ever walked the face of the earth. I mean, my son was just placed on a 6 member ACT team. A cherished support for the critically mentally ill in a country that has systematically shut down psychiatric hospitals since the 1970s.
Yet, write I must.
First I must tell that our current circumstances have found us without health insurance. Something I first believe is another tragic affliction and just one more bad scene to a non stop living nightmare. But as it would turn out, comes to be a blessing in disguise.
Our son is assigned to an experienced psychiatrist and a lead case manager, with 5 supportive case managers. He must be seen immediately after hospitalization by the doctor and consequently must be followed up with home visits from the case manager.
At first I am not concerned about the home visit. I'm distracted with my son's adjustment back into our home. Yet the home visits continue. Weekly. And with different managers each time.
Something begins to rub me the wrong way about this, but can't quite put my finger on it...
And I begin to form an opinion about these visits. I don't like them. I discuss this with a friend who is very familiar with the Constitution. I discuss the moral dilemma, I am a Christian after all and I want to be friendly and kind. Yet in the pit of my gut I want to protect my family. In part of our discussion she helps me to see what is assumed in our law, that as parents, we have the right to be responsible for our own families.
A short time afterward the psychiatrist visits our home with his nurse. They bring a case manager "in training" who I've never met before. The doctor proceeds to tell me that one of the previous case managers that visited our son in my home did not "feel welcomed" by me. I proceed, as strongly and graciously as I can, to share my opinion on home visits by people whom I've never met and by other staff. I did not mind having someone in our home initially, but did not see the need to continue with the visits. The doctor then explains to me about their policies regarding an ACT team and I then voice my concern again. We leave it at that.
My father visits me from out of town the next week and we are preparing a meal on the kitchen counter. The door bell rings and it is a different case worker, a man, with another case worker in training. They speak with my son and as my father and I continue to chop food for meal prep, they walk directly into our kitchen and open the refrigerator to check to see if I have food without my permission. And as if I needed anymore fuel for my stance, the following week the new case worker comes again only to say to me as I open my door, "I am here to establish my presence!".
The days that follow I am on the phone with the state's insurance provider for behavioral health. I request the home visits stop. I am directed to call my son's clinic's director. I set up an appointment and was brought into a room where an attempt was made to dissuade me, I stick to my guns. Shortly after this meeting I am called into a meeting with the case manager. I was told that I could have my son step down to a less supportive team, but would lose his current psychiatrist. I do not want to do this as I feel he now knows my son and I want my son to have a continuum of care, so I refuse to allow the step down.
Her and I go back and forth, yet I hold my ground. I leave the clinic that day without a resolution. But a few days later I receive a call...
The clinic comes up with a compromise: they will meet my son in the community somewhere, if I will bring my son to them. I agree they can meet outside at a park behind our home or a book store down the street.
By God's grace, a small victory is won that day. Just one of many to come.
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