Saturday, June 13, 2009

Storms . . . again

Storms in life...
Just when I had hoped for sunny skies another storm has set in. Taylor disappeared a week ago after yet another stint of drinking hard alcohol, becoming violent and being asked to leave the home where he was staying. He made no contact with us until he was to have gone to an intake appointment for rehab. He called an hour too late - and his appointment was missed. He then made no more contact with us until Thursday night.

He called telling me he was really "bad off". He needed me to pick him up. He was sick. I went to my child in an effort to "rescue" him. I knew I could provide a shower, a meal and a bed. I laid down the ground rules and told him that if he was high or drunk he was not welcome in our home. I got there to pick him up and he looked terrible. He had not showered in nearly 2 weeks, clothes soiled and he smelled terrible. He had been sleeping on the streets, in parks or pool bathrooms. He was pale, had dark circles under his eyes and would hardly speak.

I took him home, made him shower and got him clean clothes. I fed him. Then he started getting violently ill. He threw up. He laid down. He threw up. He laid down. This continued all night long. Yesterday morning he was writhing in pain and was not very coherent. I called a doctor and they told me to take him to the ER.

As I helped him to the car I lifted his sleeves and saw needle marks and bruises. I asked him if he was shooting up heroin and he admitted that he had been.

My head went dizzy - my heart felt as if it had been ripped from my body. I can't tell you the pain I felt in my inner soul. I never thought in a million years that MY BABY - my first born would EVER shoot up heroin. I went into auto pilot. I put him in the car and he went limp.
I thought he was sleeping. I tried to rouse him. Nothing. I checked his pulse and it was weak.

I got him to the ER and he was pale and his lips were turning blue. I was terrified that the bleeding in his stomach was killing him. I got him into the hospital and he was taken into a room with a security guard posted outside once again. The same guard that had been posted there two other times.

As he came around with oxygen and an IV - he started asking me why I had brought him there. He became very angry and abusive toward me. He then started to rip his monitors and IV out of his arm. Security came in and they had to restrain him. He underwent many tests and became angry and agitated. Begging me to get him out of the hospital one minute then angry at me the next. After many hours of this his girlfriend arrived. I had to go get Trenton from school and look in on my little guys at my moms.

I drove away in a daze. Carefully keeping my car between the while lines that were blurring past. I knew I was driving but I did not feel engaged. I was feeling numbness set in. Guarding my heart, going numb. I have learned to do this a lot. When my feelings are too much to bear, I have developed a technique to just - sedate my heart and numb it. I put my mind and heart on auto pilot and just move robot like through my tasks.

I pray and asked God to "hurry up" and present an answer. "Have we not suffered enough Lord?" "Please make this stop. I can't go on with this task yet again" I prayed.

Stace was working in Palm Springs and I had 4 boys all needing me in different ways. I feel like Gumby a lot of the time. Pulled this direction then that.

"The will of God will never take you to where the grace of God will not protect you"

Our evening droned on with one call after the other from Taylor begging, yelling, screaming and pleading for us to come get him out. He knows the drill all to well. He will be evaluated by a psych team and transported to an assessment center. They will then transport him to a mental facility - one that is for people who have no private insurance. There places are not nice. They smell bad, the staff is burned out. The people there have severe mental disabilities. It is scary.

I do not know what to do. I can not have him in my home detoxing off of heroin. I can not offer him the mental help he needs. I can tell him I love him - and he shouts back "BULLSHIT! IF YOU LOVED ME YOU WOULD SAVE ME!"

I have never been called such bad names by anyone - especially someone I wanted so much, and have spent so many years loving. I know it is not him - it is the drugs, the mental illness and addiction that are talking. I still love him in spite of the circumstances. He is mine. My son.

As of now - they are transferring him today to either a facility in Santa Ana or Mission Viejo. What will happen from there - no one knows. Usually they keep him 3 days - let him out and he continues on - down a path that is leading him to nowhere.

I pray that we will see him to his 19th birthday and not have to plan his funeral instead. I have no more faith in the system and their ability to help the "Taylors" of this world. So far we have not found anyone who offers answers. Just waiting lists.

I appreciate you prayers. This will be a long weekend.