Numb

It's still dark outside.
The house is asleep.
Mr. W went into work early,
and I'm alone with my thoughts.

I vacillate between wanting to really focus
and think and ponder
on what's going on right now--
right this moment
and pushing the reality
out of my mind,
not wanting to think about it at all.

Dean is on my mind
and all over my heart.

It started last night--
as soon as I got home
I thought I should call Dean --
just check up on him since the move
on Tuesday.
Just as I was about to dial the number
I have for his caregiver,
Boofus told me that Dean had called!
So I checked the caller i.d. on the phone,
and sure enough,
there was the area code for Loveland,
but it was a different number than I had,
I dialed anyway.

It was not Dean's new house number,
but his case worker's office number.
She answered the phone and said she'd been trying to call
most of the day--
had I gotten her messages?

No, I hadn't., I said.

A long sigh from her end.
I knew it wasn't going to be good,
and a knot began to tighten in my stomach.

The story is that yesterday morning,
Dean flipped out at the new house,
so severely,
that he had to be removed and taken to a
"facility" in Fort Collins,
where there are "staff"
to take care of him.

His meds were adjusted just the day before,
and a new med was introduced after the incident,
once he got to the new facility.

So this is what he's taking:

Zoloft
Trazadone
Prolixin,
Triliptil,
and two others for something else I can't remember.

This kid never took drugs his entire youth at home
and now,
I'm afraid to even look this stuff up in the PDR
for fear I'll hyperventilate at the side-effects.

My first reaction was to get up to Fort Collins ASAP,
but in talking with the case worker,
we both decided that would confuse Dean
and make it harder
on him.
The caregiver said that once Dean left her home,
she went to his bedroom and found that he had pulled all the sheets off the bed,
and the greeting card I'd left for him on Tuesday,
was torn to shreds.
That tears at my heart.

So we talked about what's going to happen next:

The caregivers that he flipped out on,
for whatever reason,
God bless their hearts!--
are willing to try again to have Dean there.

They understand that Dean's having a really rough time
adjusting,
and the meds thing,
all of it combined has triggered his behavior.
So they're willing to try again.

I know,
I could hardly believe it either.
So we'll see how Dean handles that.

I got the number to where he's at,
and called him as soon as I hung up from the case worker.

The staff that answered sounded nice,
and when she told Dean I was on the phone,
I could hear his happiness in his voice:
"My MOM!"
"Hey Deano, how ARE you?"
"Good."
"You sound good!  What have you been doing today?"
"I moved again. To this place.  Fort Collins. You know, you go up that street
and take a left, and past the chickens and cows..."
I have no idea where he is,
as that describes ALOT of Fort Collins.
"Are you doing okay, tho, Buddy?"
"Yeah! We are busy. Arts and crafts. It's fun. I'm going to a basketball game tomorrow!--with that girl,
what's her name? Red hair. long red hair. hmmmm. Can't remember her name." (He asked someone there, and they gave him the name "Monica"--so he repeated it to me.)
"Monica. I'm going to the basketball game with Monica."
"That sounds fun.  Hey, I'm worried about you.  Did you have a hard day?"
"Yeah.  Mom?  I MISS YOU."
I choked back my tears, and said, "I know. I miss you too. I'm sorry this is so hard for you. What can I do to make it easier?"
"Come take me to your house."

And at this point I think I feel my own heart just cracking into pieces.
And I really am not going to be able to quote the rest of our conversation,
but the gist of it:
We talked for a moment about a Christmas visit,
and what happened earlier in the day,
and I encouraged him to let those around him
 help him to be happy,
and we said our "love yous
and I'll talk to you tomorrow"
and hung up.

My heart was so heavy.

My friend, and the closest thing I have to a sister,
called me right afterwards--
I surely needed to talk about it all!
She was sweet and kind and encouraging.
Thank you, Nan.

Mr. W came home about that time,
and I filled him in on everything.
And then,
I just cried--for him, for me, for the new caregiver,
for the whole rotten situation.

Mr W talked me off the ledge,
and helped me realize that I'm doing all I can,
and that I can't help anyone if I lose my mind over this,
and I can't think rationally
or feel the still small voice of the Spirit
unless I'm calm.

So I calmed down.
And the thought came to my mind
to call the Denver Temple and
put Dean's name on the prayer roll.

So I did,
I put his and mine, and the caregivers', and Mr. W's
on the prayer roll.
And said about 100 prayers myself.

Then,
I went down and spent time with the rest of the family.
We've been watching TV together almost every night
since we got the new one on Black Friday--
we've mostly been watching the first 3 seasons of "Chuck" on dvd.

We're weird, I know,
but we like that show.

So that's what I did.
After the episode was over,
and before family prayer,
I told the yahoos what had happened today with Dean.
Their faces dropped and tears flowed in sadness.
I tried to be matter-of-fact with them,
so my own emotions wouldn't complicate theirs.
I don't know what all the yahoos were thinking,
but I do know that they love their brother,
so whatever I'm feeling,
they certainly must be feeling a shade of it too.
Instead of going to bed right after prayer,
we let them stay up and watch another episode
so that they wouldn't go to bed sad.

But I was wiped out, so I went to bed.
Just as I climbed in,
I realized that I have no idea where my son was sleeping
last night.
He was not in his bed,
in those sheets I tucked in just the days before.
But in some strange bed in a location I don't know.

The good news, as Mr W reminded me
is that Dean went to bed happy last night.
He liked where he was,
and as Boofus said,
"Dean likes arts and crafts!"
And the other good news is that the new caregivers
are willing to try again,
AND his meds have been changed,
and because of this incident,
Dean will have many people/professionals' attention
for the next few days,
and we can pray for them to be enlightened and inspired to know
what to do to help our boy.

So that's where I'm at...
I was dead asleep a little while ago,
when I had a dream.
Our family was at an unfamiliar house,
pulling weeds there,
when all of sudden a little black bear cub
came toddling up to us,
when I realized that where a cub is,
a mad mother bear is not far behind,
I quickly yelled for the children to get into the house--
and right at the time,
the huge Mother black bear was charging at us,
coming around a gate,
and I didn't know who to grab first
as my children were scattered around the yard
with the cub in between them.
In my dream,
I was so alarmed that I yelled outloud
and
I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep.

Am I losing it?

I'm here.
And I'm not cheerful or all optimistic about how this is all gonna work out.
I'm worried.
And I feel helpless.
I am praying that Dean's heart is filled with peace and comfort
and that his body can handle all the drugs that are pumping through his veins.
If anyone knows what more I can do,
please tell me.