The majority of Wednesday, September 21st was like any other day. Mark and I drove into work together and I spent my day wrangling 22 five year olds. When he picked me up that afternoon, we had no idea how far our lives would unravel or how quickly. On the drive home, I got a text from my daughter in law telling me that Kaitlyn had witnessed a man commit suicide while working (as a CMPD police officer). Panicked, knowing how hard another death she witnessed a few months ago hit her, I reached out to my dad and brother for advice on what to say to her because I had no idea. Are there even words for that?? I also called Kait, but got no answer. I started to panic. As we were approaching home, she called back and said that she was doing fine. She saw it from a distance, knew that it was an adult making his own choice, and was not the one who had to render medical aid. She was ok. Phew. I felt like we had dodged a bullet.
As we pulled into our driveway, I commented to Mark that it was odd that Ryan’s car was there because he worked on Wednesdays usually. He was still recovering from Covid and has been dealing with stomach issues, so we thought maybe he called in sick- which is unusual for him, but understandable. When we got inside, I went up to his room, but he was sleeping so I went about my business. I heard him go into the bathroom, so I knocked on the door to ask if he was ok. I could tell by his response that something was off. He was not making sense and the door was locked. Panicked, I yelled to Mark to come get the door open. In the meantime, Ryan managed to get the door opened. He was standing in the dark. When I turned on the lights, I could see that something was not right. he immediately blurted out that he had tried to kill himself. My son had attempted suicide. Mark got him into his room as I called 911. Soon, the house filled with police officers, EMT’s, and firefighters. They were asking questions that only Ryan had the answers to. Ryan, who was quickly losing any ability to answer. After what seemed like forever, they loaded him up and drove him to the hospital with us following.
Wednesday night was probably the scariest of our lives. As it turned out, Ryan had overdosed on 96 Benedryl tablets. He spent the night with his heart racing at about 150 bpm (normal is 60-100), trying to get out of bed, and hallucinating. He had no idea who he was, where he was, or what was happening. At about 3 in the morning, he crashed- and slept for about 12 straight hours. At one point, we couldn’t even wake him up. Thankfully, he has no recollection of the ambulance ride or the first 24 hours in the hospital. He spent 5 days in ICU- though only 3 of those were medically necessary. He then spent another 4 days in a regular hospital room before being transported to a psych ward- where he has been since Thursday afternoon. Life has been, for lack of a better phrase, a shit show for the past week and a half. Ryan is mad at us, as he blames us for his being in the psych ward, even though the hospital also put him under an involuntary commitment order- not just us. It was the hospital psychiatrist who extended it- not us. Visits with him are hard. Everything is nailed down, we are watched, there is no physical contact, and Ryan spends the whole visit railing at me (Mark and I cannot go in together). Yet, we are grateful. Exhausted to our very bones, but grateful because we are frantically planning his outpatient treatment and not a funeral. We are updating far flung family on his progress, not the location of the funeral home and cemetery. We still have our son, when we very easily could not.
I have spent countless nights in the hospital and countless more laying in bed by myself (because Ryan wanted Mark to stay with him when we were told only one parent could be there overnight) thinking of where we went wrong. You see, this is not Ryan’s first visit to the looney bin, as he calls it. He was there 7 years ago when he had suicidal ideation. That is a fancy way of saying that he considered suicide, but didn’t really have a plan. Since then, there have been countless therapy visits, psychiatry visits, and talks. We have kept all medication hidden and keep close tabs on Ryan’s moods. We do not have guns in the house and hid all razor blades. We thought we were doing everything possible to keep him safe from himself. Even so, he managed to make a very good attempt on his life. He had a plan, wrote suicide notes, and carried it out. The only things that likely saved him were the fact that he ate lunch before swallowing all the pills- and we got home in time to call for help.
Why is he struggling so with mental illness? He has been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and OCD. He has been medicated for years for those things. Why is he suddenly exhibiting symptoms that suggest something else entirely? What, in his upbringing, could have caused all this? That question, above all others, is what keeps me awake at night. Did moving to NC cause this? One of the reasons we moved was to get him away from a group of kids who bullied him relentlessly all through elementary school- but in doing so, we also took him away from family and friends. Is the bullying to blame? It probably has something to do with it. Ryan is brilliant and he has always thought in ways that were different from his peers. He has been in AIG classes since second grade. Down here, that meant he was on that track for all classes, so he stuck out. Did that put too much pressure on him? Did we put too much pressure on him? Are my body image issues to blame for his body image issues? Is it just genetic? After all, there is mental illness on all sides of the family tree. I don’t have an answer. I think the answer lies somewhere in the midst of it all. Are there things I would do differently in raising him? Yes- I would do things differently in raising all three kids, but that is a normal thing, right? As you get older, you get wiser and learn to see things differently. I would like to think, however, that our kids will all look back on their childhoods fondly, as we honestly tried our best.
It has been hard this week to see everyone living their lives as though everything is normal, when our lives are anything but. It has been hard for the past couple of years to see Ryan’s friends go off to college and build lives for themselves, while he is struggling and has only been taking classes off and on. It has been hard to put a smile on my face and pretend life is a bowl of cherries when the struggle is real. BUT…. I am not dying, like a friend I have known since kindergarten. I have not had to bury a child, like a friend from Maine has. I have not had to bury a parent, like so many of my friends. I have not lost my home to a natural disaster like so many in Florida and South Carolina. I am lucky. I am blessed. I know this to be true. However, it is still hard to navigate this reality at times.
I have learned some things in this short period of time. I have learned that our health care system is in shambles. Our mental health system is BROKEN- if you can even call it a system at all. Let me share with you some frustrations. Ryan has OCD and is very much a germaphobe. He was not allowed to shower for 5 days after his overdose because the hospital could not find him a bed on a regular floor- only his doctor found 4 such beds and finally got him moved after taking it upon himself to ignore the upper management’s words. Ryan has had stomach/intestinal issues and anxiety. He could not use the bathroom with any privacy until he got to the psych ward (ironically). He has a dairy allergy- yet his hospital food ALWAYS included dairy products…but no salt because for some reason, he was on a reduced sodium diet (which he wasn’t…it was a screw up on the hospital’s part)- and no matter how many times we shared this with nurses it never changed- FOR 9 DAYS. He was transported to the psych ward in the back of someone’s dirty Dodge Charger…in a cage. He had no shoes and the only toiletry he had was a toothbrush. They gave us no information on where he was going or how to reach him when he got there; we were told to wait for a phone call from him. He received NO mental health services in the 9 days he was in the hospital, though they did wean him off his antidepressant and give him a mood stabilizer. WTH?!? It was like something out of a horror movie. I spent the better part of yesterday trying to get him into a private facility where he can be treated like a human being- not some caged animal- and actually get treatment, which would include a diagnosis, appropriate meds, and coping strategies for when life decides to throw shade your way. Our first choice cannot get him in for one and a half to two weeks…and that time period starts after they get this medical records- which we cannot get released without jumping through a number of inane bureaucratic hoops. And yesterday was Friday, which means the person I have to email the signed forms to will not see them until Monday- and then she has to pass them onto a committee who will decide whether or not to release the records to the facilities we are requesting for continued care. So, who knows how long that all will take. Meanwhile, our son is languishing in what is essentially a prison (though, I am pretty sure, prisoners have more rights). He is turning into someone we don’t even recognize- and he has only been there since Thursday afternoon. In the meantime, I called today to beg both facilities to please hold his spot because we are trying to get them the necessary records but the speed with which it happens is out of our hands- and the need for those facilities outpaces the number of facilities available. Even after they get the records, it is up to their teams of doctors to decide whether or not they can/will treat Ryan. If they decide not to, I am not sure what our next steps will be. We are doing everything in our power to get him the help he needs to get a proper diagnosis, the right meds, and the chance at a happy, productive life….and we just get hit with one hurdle after another. We will keep jumping those hurdles, as we have no choice, but they shouldn’t be there. It should not be this hard to get mental health help for someone in crisis. The hospital system should not make people worse because they are covering their own butts with stupid rules and bureaucratic red tape. Thank the good Lord Almighty that we have insurance because we would not even be able to CONSIDER the private facilities if we did not. Also, I am so grateful that God had the foresight to put me back into a teaching position (even though I did so kicking and screaming) because my income will cover the costs not covered by insurance. We are going to be ok financially- but what about those without great jobs or insurance? THERE IS NO HELP FOR THEM AND THAT IS WRONG ON SO MANY LEVELS.
Please advocate for health care for all. Please advocate for mental health care for all. We are not a third world country. We are a world leader- this should not be something that we have to fight for, but here we are. Until you have seen, up close and personal, how this system works, don’t even talk to me about how it is not all that bad. The next time you see a homeless person, know that that person was probably one medical crisis away from a job, a home, and food- yet they were pushed over the brink by our inept, unfair, and totally illogical medical system. ..and you or someone you love could easily be next.
I am sharing all this for two reasons. First of all, we need all the prayers we can get. We need prayers that Ryan will get the proper diagnosis, medication, and treatment. Ryan needs prayers to stay strong while in the psych ward. We need prayers that we can quickly cut through all the red tape and get him placed appropriately. Mark and I need prayers that we can hold it all together while navigating this latest detour because life goes on and other things happen that also need our attention. The second reason is to bring attention to the mental health crisis that is all around us- but ignored until it becomes a part of your world. I will always fight to end bullying (because I do think it causes mental health issues). I will always fight for equitable, helpful, humane treatment for anyone with mental health issues. I will always advocate for people to check in on loved ones and know that they may not be ok- even if they say they are. I am not looking for pity with this post. I am looking for advocates. See something, say something. Follow the news and speak up about health care issues. Be a much needed voice. Raise money for suicide prevention. Support those causes. Be a ray of sunlight to someone in a storm. Be a helping hand to someone in crisis. Be the kind of person you want others to be. Be the light for someone in the dark- and hug your loved ones tight. God bless!