Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 4, 2019

What Happens When My Child/Teen Goes to the ER for Psychiatric Care? (Post 1 of 3)

I am part of a private Facebook group for parents of children and teens who have bipolar or other mood disorders. Many caregivers post a frantic cry for support when their child goes into psychiatric hospitalization. I've also received emails, texts, and private messages from friends and friends of friends asking what to expect or looking for reassurance. I've decided to create a series of three blog posts covering some of the most asked questions and offering information to help educate and dispel some of the mystery.
The three posts will cover what to expect when your child/teen is in the emergency room, what acute/short term hospitalization looks like, and our experience with long term/residential treatment. Please share these posts with anyone who can use them!

What To Expect When Your Child or Teen Winds Up in the Emergency Room For Psychiatric Care:

You've found yourself at the ER with your child seeking psychiatric intervention. There are many ways this can happen: Your child is out of control, or has what the system calls "suicidal ideation", or is self harming, seems delusional; the list is endless. They may arrive by ambulance, in a police car, or under police escort, or simply in your personal vehicle. We have been to the ER many times and have arrived in my car, in my car with police escort, and in an ambulance.

Here is what you need to know:

First- don't forget to breathe. I'm very serious. I know that it's scary, and unknown, and heartbreaking to find yourself in this position, but you have to dig deep and stay calm. Your child needs you more than ever and you will need to be able to rationally answer questions, give accurate history, and most likely, spend a lot of time with your child just waiting. Staying calm might be the most difficult thing you do during this experience, especially if you came to the ER due to any violence or destructive behavior directed at you or your family. Anger is the natural response to that, and yet, for the well being of all of you, you must find a way to momentarily compartmentalize those emotions and be a calm presence for your child.

Be prepared to wait. And then wait some more. This can be an incredibly frustrating part of the process. Many hospitals have specific rooms for mental health patients, and will only utilize those rooms unless it is a life or death situation. With the continually growing mental health crisis in our country, this often means that when you arrive, the rooms are already occupied- leaving you and your child in the waiting room- many times for hours on end. Our longest stay was 27 hours from start to finish- but part of that was waiting on a bed to open up in an acute psychiatric hospital (more on that in the next post).

When you arrive and check in, you will register, give proof of insurance if you have it, then you will wait for triage. After triage (where a nurse asks you why you've come and checks your child's vitals) you will probably be sent  back to the waiting room. Your child may be called again for a blood draw, and if so, once again, you most likely will be sent back to the waiting room. Once called into a room you may notice it's different than other rooms in the ER. It may even be in an area that is closed off from the other rooms. Many rooms used for mental health patients have been prepped- often stripped of any extra instruments or objects that you'd see in other rooms to protect patients from potentially hurting themselves or others.

You can expect to see a nurse, a social worker or mental health worker, hospital registrar, and doctor at a minimum. Each time, your child will be asked if they are having thoughts of harming themselves, and if so, if there is a plan. This is tedious. It feels traumatic to have to answer that over and over, or watch your child have to repeatedly answer those questions. Just remind yourself it's part of protocol. There may be police presence. At our local hospital, there is an officer who sits outside of the mental health rooms. This is again, preventative and for protection, but I'll admit, it can make the process feel further stigmatized and removed from 'normal'.
Your child will be under a strict one on one instruction- meaning, they won't be allowed to be left alone. You will have to stay with them the entire time, and they will have to ask to use the restroom. If your child doesn't want you with them (which happens, and you will have to find a way to stand up under the weight of that pain somehow knowing they aren't well in that moment) then they will have a nurse with them constantly. If they are overly agitated or anxious, your child may be offered something to help calm them.

Prepare yourself to know there won't be a diagnosis in the ER. There will be no 'problem solved' or magic bullet. It can feel anticlimactic after the chaos that sent you there. It can be exhausting in every way, and you will likely experience a myriad of emotions. If you know some of this ahead of time, it can help you adjust your expectations so you don't wind up feeling discouraged.

Generally the goal is to create a plan going forward in order to discharge your child. This may be for your child to return home with instructions to follow up with a psychiatrist. Or, it may be that the next step is acute hospitalization at a mental health facility. In the state of VA where I live, you are no longer allowed to self-admit. You must have a medical clearance first- meaning you and your child may know that he/she wants and needs hospitalization, but you must still go through the red tape of the ER visit to justify it. If hospitalization is the next step, you will be waiting again. Hospitals are packed full and many times you are stuck waiting for a bed to open up at a facility. Often those facilities aren't local to you. The younger your child, the fewer options there are, which can mean a longer wait and possibly a facility that is a longer distance from your home. In our state if you are stuck in the ER waiting for more than 24 hours for a bed to become available, they usually admit your child to the hospital while you wait- putting you in limbo until there is space.
While this is frustrating, and shines a spotlight on the scale of psychiatric care needs, it is normal. Discouraging, yes. But sadly, normal. Most of the time a trip to the ER is a marathon, not a sprint. Try to relax if you can. I've told my son jokes, showed him vines on my phone, watched him try to sleep, played music, and calmed him when his anxiety from the wait overtook him.

The good stuff: Remember your child is in a safe place during the visit. That may be the only consolation for you in the moment, but don't discount it. Breathe it in deeply. If this is your first trip to the ER for this level of care, you are now in a good position to continue to advocate for your child in other arenas; school, counseling, testing, possibly ABA therapy or OT (for children with Autism or sensory issues), the option of getting an advocate or case worker; you have now reached a level of need that makes it obvious how desperately you need a support team. Take advantage of this reality and ask as many questions about available resources as you need to before you are discharged.


Finally: I know you feel utterly alone. You may feel as though you've failed somehow. This is a normal reaction, but it's not true. Many of us have been through this with our children- you don't know only because we aren't posting pics of them in the hospital bed on Facebook and Instagram the way parents of physically ill children often do. We're hidden in plain sight- but trust me; you are not alone. Also, you have no obligation to share information with anyone. You don't owe anyone an explanation, and you don't have to try and defend your choice (or, forced action if others were involved). As hard as it may be, find a way to stay calm and set boundaries. Privacy and space is rightfully yours and you are permitted to take all the time you need to decide what (if anything) you desire to share with anyone other than those intimately involved. You are going to get through this- and you, sweet parent or caregiver- are an amazing and loving person who is doing an incredibly difficult and compassionate thing. Much love!



Sunday, November 30, 2014

She called herself the Fat Girl

I went on a field trip with Ivy a few weeks ago.  I was thrilled to get to be one of two parents who got to go with the busy first grade class to the children's theater.
I've been blessed to go on many of my kids' field trips through the years and enjoy getting to spend time with the other kids as well as my own child outside of the classroom setting.

My experience with this field trip was more than just a good time… it had intense moments, and places of ragged humanity that left me more than a bit weary and deflated.
When I got to the classroom, Ivy ran to me and pulled me into her group of girlfriends.  I knelt into the gaggle of long braids, sparkly sweatshirts, and pink nail polish.  The girls swarmed me and began touching my hair, earrings, and necklace.  They ooohed and ahhhed at my jewelry and exclaimed several times that I was just 'so pretty'.  Ivy was beaming from ear to ear, and proudly stood beside me with her tiny hand tucked inside of mine, as they fawned over me.  At first it was sweet, flattering, and cute to hear their little voices get excited about makeup and cheap jewelry from the sales rack at kohl's. But as they continued, I began to get uncomfortable.  The truth was, I wasn't all that jazzed up that day. I had on jeans and boots, and a simple sweater.  My hair and makeup were my daily style and my jewelry was simple and easy.  I always dress this way. I love being a woman, and I love to look my best.  My style is basic, and simple- not at all flashy or glittery- but I wear makeup and jewelry daily- it's what I do.  I couldn't help but wonder if some of the women in their lives weren't making time for themselves… to spend the few extra moments on themselves on an average morning to brush a bit of blush on a cheek, or spike eyelashes with a dash of mascara.  We often put ourselves last. And our daughters are watching.

Women don't have to wear makeup or curl their hair to be beautiful, or feminine; but I am watching my daughter watch me take care of myself, and begin to incorporate some of those things into her normal daily routine.
I saw the opportunity for a little life lesson and dove in- as they told me how pretty I was, I was able to look into their eyes and affirm their beauty.  I thanked them for commenting on my earrings, but swung the conversation back to the importance of being beautiful from the inside out. Loving our friends well, treating people with kindness and grace.  I have no idea if they heard me, but I was determined to be another voice in the hum of voices vying for their attention.

I got my assignment of kids in my group and gathered them to me like ducklings.  Their excitement for our adventure was contagious and we giggled and talked and girls paired off for bus buddies.  We climbed the steps of the bus and settled into the rigid backed seats with excitement.  One of my group girls leaned across the aisle to get my attention and her words pierced my heart. Without blinking, without apology; in the innocent honesty that children have before the world darkens and softens the edge, she said 'kids in my class call me fat'.
I blinked and swallowed.  She wasn't really asking for a response. She wasn't looking to shock me, or gain pity.  She was simply sharing information that was sitting at the top of her heart that was too heavy to carry, and so she laid it down for me.
I looked back into her eyes and said "I'm so sorry that that has happened to you sweet girl". She looked down, and fidgeted under my concern- "It's ok" she was quick to dismiss me.  "Everyone says it"
She sat back in her seat and looked off through her window.
My heart was heavy as we bounced along on our way to the theater.  I knew she carried a heavy burden, and there wasn't much I could do to lighten it.


We got to the theater and she found a spot at our table to spread out her lunch and share her food and her story with me.  Through the next hour her interaction with me was peppered with hurt she had suffered at the words of kids in her class about her weight. But each time she spoke, she would give a reason as to why they had said the hurtful things; quick to dismiss the hurt and offer excuses as to why they were mean to her. She mentioned that one boy on her bus had told everyone she had kissed him "but it's not true" she insisted with tears brimming her eyes.  She quieted for a moment and then started again… "But it's ok now. We're friends again".  I was dumbfounded.  "How are you friends again?  Did he ask you to forgive him for lying about you?" She looked confused at my question. I pressed on: "Did you ask him why he said those things about you? Did he ask you to forgive him? He lied about you sweet girl. A friend would apologize. "  She sat silent for a moment and then quietly said.. "Well, everyone forgot about it, so we're friends again."
Some time passed with silly girl talk, nibbling on home-packed lunches, and discussions about the upcoming play.  At one point, Ivy became upset with me and was crying and pouting.  My little friend "Jenny" slipped her bracelet off of her wrist and held it out to the despondent Ivy.  "Here Ivy" she pleaded. "You can have my bracelet.  Just please don't cry. Please don't be upset"
Ivy looked up and her eyes lit with excitement over the new trinket. I put my hand on the bracelet and looked into the other girls eyes. "No. You're not giving this to Ivy. You don't have to give things to people to make them like you Jenny.  Being who you are; being a friend is enough. YOU are enough." She cocked her head to the side to bring in the information that wasn't quite computing and slipped the bracelet back onto her wrist.  I looked at Ivy and said "If that happens again, you need to tell her thank you for offering, but no thank you. Your love is enough for me."
I was blown away.

I watched the habits of this 6 year old girl. One who had been pegged the 'fat girl'. One who thought the only way to get and keep friends was to allow herself to be consumed.  I was sickened.  We had several conversations about her beauty- the inside and the outside kind.  I have no idea if the words I spoke to her took root or not, but I couldn't stay silent.  To see her pain, and to see her quickly work to make the way smooth for those around her, at the expense of herself was painful for me. I think of her often and I'm sure I will carry her heart with me through the next years and am honored to be able to cover her in prayer. We women have a reponsibility to young girls coming up in this world. We have to speak. They hear so many voices, and we have to join in to try and overpower the lies they are fed daily.  Take the opportunity when it comes, and don't be afraid to speak raw truth. Truth that is infused with love is powerful, and my prayer is that all I said will swim around inside of her for decades; attaching itself to other good counsel, and that she will begin to hear and trust truth over deception. We belong to each other. And that means speaking light into darkness.

Friday, January 10, 2014

Thankful for my village

I'm glad you're here.  Reading my words, my thoughts, my struggle and movement inside of this life.  
I do want you to know that I don't always sit in despair. I have told you that I am addicted to hope, and that is a hard addiction to break. 

I am a feeler- I feel deeply, intensely and many times I am harder on myself than I would be on any other person. 
I do struggle as a mother.  Since Samuel was two years old he began with challenges, and the reality is that for the majority of my mothering career, I have felt more like a survivor than an all-hands in, excited, joyful participant.  Some days that gives me pause.  I scan my brain and intentions and wonder if some part of me is fractured.. some 'enjoyment' gene I missed inheriting... and I begin down the road of mommy guilt and sadness.. but many days I am able to recognize that mothering (like any other intimate and ongoing relationship) is one that is filled with struggle and difficulty. Being in close proximity with others, and being the one trying to shape those others naturally brings about challenges... and I am becoming more and more aware that many mothers are behind closed doors struggling with something- loneliness, guilt, inadequacies, infertility, disappointment, disillusion.  This doesn't mean there isn't also laughter, and joy and silliness and cookies! and an intense connection with flesh and blood (or adopted blood!) that brings us to our knees with its sacred beauty.... but being a mother is tough.  And walking through it day after day can leave you feeling ragged and scraped raw. 

I don't always hang out in despair.  I am aware that things are happening behind the scenes in my life that are causing me to be lower on the rungs of resiliency.  Because of that, it is easy to fall into the well of pity and hopelessness.... but somehow that golden ladder out of pain always appears.  
Being a mother is hard.  Being a single mother is impossible... without all of you.  Hopefully, in the shocking things you've read at my hand... you will be spurred to be kinder to other mothers around you. To offer smiles to the mom pushing her cart in walmart with a wailing toddler in the seat.  To really look a woman in the eye as she tries to avoid you as she leans over to pick up her spilled purse contents, or her keys that her baby has thrown for the bazillionth time.  The reality is that none of us will get through motherhood without some injury or scarring.  So love on each other.  Give one another space to screw it all up and to also succeed miraculously- even if her rules and ideals don't necessarily match up with yours.  I've been incredibly gifted with a community who rallies around me when I begin to sink. I had one small text message that caused a friend in CA to call me immediately- just to pray with me and encourage me last night. I had many personal texts after my post, and several private requests to offer help.  I don't even know what to ask for- but the reality of having people who love me at my finger tips is a gift I don't take lightly. 
So, if my post rubbed you raw, and made you squirm for me, or for yourself- take that energy and love the mothers around you.  The mothers who don't have babies in their arms yet because their bodies won't yet give them the children they cry out for, the mothers whose husbands are across the world fighting for our country, the mothers whose husbands have walked out or whose husbands have been kicked out. The mothers of children with special needs, and the mothers whose kids just seem to be brats. We are all doing the best we can, and the most potent antidote to that hopelessness and mommy guilt is the soft word of another woman telling us we are not failing and not alone. Those words hold weight that presses back against the darkness of our pain and reminds us of the intense responsibility we are wading through, and it shows us that there is light here. 
So, thank you for reading.  I do sometimes write funny, witty (ish) and silly things. But, I have to be free to see those things first, and sometimes to get to the light... we have to swim in the dark.  But morning always comes dear ones- it always comes. Don't give up on me now.