From 7am Sunday morning til 5pm Sunday evening, difficult child was the most perfect angel. I went downstairs to start cooking dinner when difficult child came down and signed.. "behavior don't matter, good or bad" and I signed back saying "behaviors need to improve." (he began being a day student at his school this week and that is one of the things we talked about for him to continue being a day student or he'd go back to the dorm and only be home weekends again). He continued to sign that it didn't matter, etc. I finally ignored it and went back to cooking, thinking he would drop it also. About 10 minutes later, things happened that are almost a blur right now when I look back on it. He threw up his fist to hit me, I told him to stop, calm down. He kicked me instead and then went running upstairs, I followed, maybe I shouldn't have, I don't know. I tried to explain the rules again to him, he grabbed me by the arm and kicked me again, I pushed him back, he lunged at me and wrapped his hands around my neck to choke me, I tried blocking it, he tried to bang my head against the wall, I knew I had to call 911, but didn't know how to get to a phone safely. I finally went into another room, knew I couldn't go back downstairs at the time, he had this *look* in his eye that seemed to say he would push me down the steps if I tried going that way. I went into the computer room and shut the door putting my body against it so he couldn't get in and called 911. At this time he went downstairs and got up in the cabinet where we keep our knives at (he must had got on a chair to get them, I can't even reach them) and grabbed a butcher knife and kept lunging it at the door to get to me, putting it in the jam trying to push in, next thing I knew he was taking a hammer and beating the door with it. The cops finally arrived when he broke through the door and climbed over the barricade I had up. The cops had to break into the front door since I couldn't get down to unlock it for them. When he looked out the window and saw the cops there, he went down with the butcher knife toward the police officers here, there were 3. The one pulled his gun on him, I was still upstairs at the time, basically catching my breath thankful difficult child didn't stab me, the police were telling him to drop the knife, I had to yell down that he was deaf, he couldn't hear them, seeing that gun pulled scared the crap out of me, difficult child needed to be out of the house but he didn't need to be shot, the cop finally put the gun away, difficult child put the knife down, they handcuffed him and asked me what I wanted to do. I'm sure I wasn't making much sense to them, crying my eyes out, scared to death, knowing husband wouldn't be home from work for another 10 minutes or so. I told them he needed to be taken to the hospital, I wanted an evaluation done. difficult child stayed in handcuffs until the paramedics showed up. 2 of the officers, I had never seen before but the one I remember him from the last time, he remembered difficult child and told the other officers that he was in the system. I called husband at work and told him to hurry home, and the short version of what happened. He was home in less that 10 minutes. We were in the emergency room from 7pm Sunday night until 3pm Monday afternoon, they called every adolescent facility within a 2 hour drive from us, one was had no beds, 6 of them refused him, they finally got him a bed in one in Ohio, we live in PA. We asked what would happen if no psychiatric hospital would take him, they said the next alternative would be juvenile hall. I'm glad we didn't have to go that route cause he needs treated, not to be in a place that isn't going to help him. When he was admitted yesterday they told us most stays were between 3 and 5 days long. I truly believe he needs more time than that, but I also know the insurance company plays alot into that. We have a meeting with the treatment team this afternoon, I hope we can come up with the answers.
Right now I'm trying to think back to see if there is anything I could had done differently. Maybe I shouldn't had went up after him. Maybe I should had came back downstairs instead of barricading myself in a room, maybe he wouldn't had been able to grab the knife if I would had went downstairs. It felt like it took the cops forever to show up, but everything else seemed to happen so fast.
And again while we were at the hospital we had to fight to get an interpreter for him, the one male nurse asked us, "how long have you been his parents?" I said "14 years, what does that have to do with anything?" He said, "you can't interpret for him?", I said, "according to the American with Disabilities Law, the hospital has to provide an interpreter for him, and so no, I can't interpret for him." We had an interpreter there in less than an hour, although she was only there long enough for the evaluation. Blood tests and such they expected mom and dad to interpret for him, which we still refused to do, and Monday when the administrator showed up I voiced my displeasure in the facility and the way they handled many things. We had another interpreter in an hour. And this goes to the various refusals from other hospitals for him, they *can't deal* with his deafness, they said, that and a few said with him being MR, they didn't feel they could provide him the service he needed. Which to me sounds like a bunch of bull.
Also he was in the emergency room for over 20 hours and during that time, he had one insulin shot, and his oral medications only once. And they wondered why his blood sugar was over 600 at one time. If they would had given him his insulin before they fed him, he wouldn't had been, but you can't tell them anything.
Anyway, he's in a facility an hour away in a different state, and I'm getting more and more frustrated with the state I live in. husband and I still believe he needs more intensive care, to be in a Residential Treatment Center (RTC)/Residential Treatment Facility (RTF), but that is still decided by the hospital staff, not the parents. And I'm bruised, hurt, angry, a basket case. And I hope once more he gets the treatment he needs. I honestly don't know what more I can do without going more nuts than I already am.
~taking a deep breath~ Thanks once again for letting me vent.
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Right now I'm trying to think back to see if there is anything I could had done differently. Maybe I shouldn't had went up after him. Maybe I should had came back downstairs instead of barricading myself in a room, maybe he wouldn't had been able to grab the knife if I would had went downstairs. It felt like it took the cops forever to show up, but everything else seemed to happen so fast.
And again while we were at the hospital we had to fight to get an interpreter for him, the one male nurse asked us, "how long have you been his parents?" I said "14 years, what does that have to do with anything?" He said, "you can't interpret for him?", I said, "according to the American with Disabilities Law, the hospital has to provide an interpreter for him, and so no, I can't interpret for him." We had an interpreter there in less than an hour, although she was only there long enough for the evaluation. Blood tests and such they expected mom and dad to interpret for him, which we still refused to do, and Monday when the administrator showed up I voiced my displeasure in the facility and the way they handled many things. We had another interpreter in an hour. And this goes to the various refusals from other hospitals for him, they *can't deal* with his deafness, they said, that and a few said with him being MR, they didn't feel they could provide him the service he needed. Which to me sounds like a bunch of bull.
Also he was in the emergency room for over 20 hours and during that time, he had one insulin shot, and his oral medications only once. And they wondered why his blood sugar was over 600 at one time. If they would had given him his insulin before they fed him, he wouldn't had been, but you can't tell them anything.
Anyway, he's in a facility an hour away in a different state, and I'm getting more and more frustrated with the state I live in. husband and I still believe he needs more intensive care, to be in a Residential Treatment Center (RTC)/Residential Treatment Facility (RTF), but that is still decided by the hospital staff, not the parents. And I'm bruised, hurt, angry, a basket case. And I hope once more he gets the treatment he needs. I honestly don't know what more I can do without going more nuts than I already am.
~taking a deep breath~ Thanks once again for letting me vent.
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