Everything Is Different Now

Josiah is temporarily placed in this new hospital one hour away from home. He will be there for 6-8 weeks. His life has changed immensely in such a short time and will continue to change from anything he’s ever known. He used to live at home with us. He had his own room, with a large trampoline smack dab in the middle. He jumped on it often, many times in the middle of the night. He had a bunk bed with a fort area down below where he would sometimes lay to watch a video on his ipad. He had his Skweezer sheets to snuggle up under at night.  He had his glow in the dark stars on the ceiling he used to stare at when the lights were turned out.

He used to go to school.  He used to ride a bus.  He had a classroom and teachers and friends. He could swing in the backyard on the swing set. He could help take Mocha, our dog, for a walk around the block. He could ride in his bike trailer.  He could splash in the water at the neighborhood pool.  He could go to the movies, even though the only part he truly seemed to enjoy was the popcorn and the movie credits at the end.  That’s his very favorite part.  He could go for a ride in our van, which he frequently loved to do.  He could go to the store with us and go to church.

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Our New Normal

Rick and I were so relieved to know Josiah was going to be transferred to a different hospital. We were incredibly thankful our insurance company came through at the very last minute when it truly felt all hope was gone. We were thrilled Josiah was going to be getting the help he needed.

The day after Josiah’s admission, we met with his new psychiatrist and felt as if finally, someone understood. We only spoke to him for 20-25 minutes. Yet, in all of Josiah’s 13 years, I don’t think anyone has had a handle on him quite like this man.  For the very first time it seemed Rick and I didn’t need to be driving things.  This guy knew his stuff.  He was confident.  He was experienced. He had a plan.  We could relax.

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Light At The End of the Tunnel

Two weeks ago on a Friday night we were driving across town to the rehearsal dinner for our goddaughter’s wedding. Our older girls were home from Austin and D.C.  My mom had flown in from PA. With the wedding weekend we had all anticipated for a year and a half upon us, Josiah, still in the hospital was due to be released the very next morning.

Rick and I knew we had to pack up his things and bring our boy home by 11 am Saturday morning.  In the midst of all the wedding excitement, with our 3 daughters enjoying rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, a bridal luncheon and a wedding day preparation party, along with our oldest daughter’s boyfriend arriving from out of town, Josiah would be coming home. Not the best timing. Read more

No Answers

Rick and Ashley, had just left the hospital after spending a very long day with Josiah.  Though it was my turn to stay the night, the harrowing experience of being attacked by my own son was enough to scare me away.  I called Rick.  I texted Ashley.  Both were ready and willing to turn around and drive back to the hospital.  What an amazing support team.

Ashley called, insisting Rick needed to sleep since he had to go to work the next morning.  She assured me she felt perfectly safe spending the night with Josiah.  She has experience working with much older, much stronger, much more challenging kids than Josiah.  I was hugely relieved.

I hung up from Ashley and made my way back to Josiah’s hospital room.  I peered in and saw 3 nurses standing a safe distance away, all around his bed.  I was afraid to enter the room.  A sedative was brought in to calm Josiah who was bouncing joyfully on his knees on the bed.

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The Long Road Ahead

Josiah was sent home from the ER after spending 2 sedated hours sleeping there.  A Crisis Intervention Team arrived at our house a few hours later.  I had hoped they would provide a solution.  They were kind and compassionate, took lots of information and said basically there was nothing they could do.  Josiah was mildly bouncy and slightly agitated while they were here.

Later that same afternoon, after more pleas for help, Josiah’s psychiatrist called to say he wanted us to take Josiah to a different hospital.  Both he and Josiah’s pediatrician were very concerned about him.  They wanted various tests to be done to rule out anything medically that might be causing such violent outbursts. Since he’s non verbal, he is not able to tell us if something hurts or he doesn’t feel well.  I didn’t think there was anything physically wrong with my son, but getting him to a hospital where he could hopefully receive some help made sense.

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