I think I mentioned that my son walked out of his job at Pizza Hut, blew a long-standing friendship with the girl that gave him the job, blew his living arrangements with another friend (I'm sure there was more to it than just the job situation but I don't know) and threw himself on our mercy. My husband agreed to let him stay with us long enough to get another job and save up some money to move out. Between the three of us, we decided on three weeks to get a job and another three - four weeks to get the money saved to move. Six weeks...period. Not an open-ended ongoing "whenever" thing, six weeks and no more. If you don't have a job and/or money by then you're still leaving, even with no job or no money in your pocket.
We set down some firm boundaries and rules, number one being a zero tolerance policy on drugs. Initially he seemed to comply, or at least I saw no evidence of drug use. Until yesterday. He was hired at a busy full service restaurant, went to orientation, and was supposed to start training this past Tuesday. Monday night/Tuesday morning a bad tooth became impacted and his face was so swollen it looked like he had mumps. I took him to the ER and they gave him an antibiotic and Lortab for the pain. He called the restaurant manager and they said he could come in on Wednesday. But on Wednesday he was having what was apparently a reaction to the antibiotic, blisters and sores inside his mouth and around his lips, so he went back to the ER for that. He called me from the ER as he was being discharged and said he would be home in about 30 minutes. Six hours later he showed up, obviously "tweaking" ("tweeaked"?) on meth or something. Within minutes of walking in the door he started his typical rhetoric bouncing back and forth between "I can't stand the worthless POS I've become. I've killed every relationship with anyone who ever really loved me" to blaming me for all his problems past, present, and future, to blaming his ex in Chicago, to knowing that our apartment is full of hidden cameras and recording devices because we're in cahoots with our neighbors who he swears are FBI agents in an attempt to frame him for some felony crime (we don't even know our neighbors other than to say hi in passing...they aren't feds as far as we know...and there are absolutely no cameras or anything in our apartment) But he took it to a new level and accused me of going through his things when he wasn't home. He said he had "proof" because he had arranged certain things in a certain way to "test" me and I failed. WHATEVER! And then for the first time, my husband got to hear all this as well after he got home from work.
The sad thing is that my husband had just ordered a futon to put in the second bedroom so my son would have somewhere to sleep other than our living room couch. And while it's true that we've been planning to put a futon in there for a while, we were going to do it later in the summer after we get our finances back in order, not at the end of a financially difficult slow season. But I digress.
Anyway after hearing that rhetoric once yesterday and then hearing it again a second time after my husband got home, I had had it. I went for a walk and then stopped by my local bar to have a drink with my bartender friend. When I got back home they had decided that since it was in the 40s my son could stay for the night but because of the drug use he had to be out the next day. At that point I was very uncomfortable being alone with my son so I added the stipulation that he needed to leave either before my husband left for work or at the same time.
My son then asked when my husband and I were going to bed, because he wanted to lie down and go to sleep. It was late, 1:30 to 2 in the morning, so we said yes we should go to bed. And I have no idea what triggered what happened next. As we were getting ready for bed my son yelled at me that he had taken all his medications as well as the Lortab and he hoped I was happy. He stormed out, slamming the door so hard the window rattled. I was shaken by the hate and animosity coming out of his mouth but otherwise not worried, because this isn't the first time he's expressed a desire or threatened to end his own life. It's always turned out to be a ploy for attention or sympathy, a means to an end.
But when I got up this morning I found to my horror all his pill bottles completely empty. I guess we should have called the police last night but I don't know what they could have done as I had no idea where my son went when he stormed out. I thought about calling the police today, or tonight when my husband gets home, or calling hospitals, but I figured if there was a worst case scenario either the police or hospital would contact me.
Anyway about an hour ago I got a call from the psychiatric ward and was told that as soon as he left our premises he called the police and had himself Baker Acted and taken to the hospital voluntarily. At least now I know he's safe for the time being. A Baker Act carries a minimum of 72 hours but can go as long as the doctor deems necessary. And I've decided that when he is discharged he can NOT come back here.
Honestly I wish he could be hospitalized for an extended period, because I truly think between his bipolar and his drug use he's lost his mind or very nearly so. I just don't know if he meets the criteria for long term hospitalization. I don't know if I'll be able to speak to his doctor but if I do I intend on asking him about that possibility. I can't think of anything to help him or guide him towards helping himself that I haven't already tried, and like I said, yesterday he made me extremely uncomfortable being alone with him, to the point where I was looking at the clock every few minutes to see how much longer it would before my husband got home.
I'm also hoping that this stay in the hospital will get him on some kind of fast track to drug rehab (I don't know if it works that way)...he says he's on the waiting list, which I'm skeptical about, but even if he's telling the truth, I do know that the typical waiting period is around 6 months. So maybe, if the doctor feels he needs rehab, this will help speed up the process. Or not.
Bottom line, I think he'll have to have somewhere to stay before he can be discharged, but I'm adamant that it's not here. That ship has sailed for the foreseeable future.
We set down some firm boundaries and rules, number one being a zero tolerance policy on drugs. Initially he seemed to comply, or at least I saw no evidence of drug use. Until yesterday. He was hired at a busy full service restaurant, went to orientation, and was supposed to start training this past Tuesday. Monday night/Tuesday morning a bad tooth became impacted and his face was so swollen it looked like he had mumps. I took him to the ER and they gave him an antibiotic and Lortab for the pain. He called the restaurant manager and they said he could come in on Wednesday. But on Wednesday he was having what was apparently a reaction to the antibiotic, blisters and sores inside his mouth and around his lips, so he went back to the ER for that. He called me from the ER as he was being discharged and said he would be home in about 30 minutes. Six hours later he showed up, obviously "tweaking" ("tweeaked"?) on meth or something. Within minutes of walking in the door he started his typical rhetoric bouncing back and forth between "I can't stand the worthless POS I've become. I've killed every relationship with anyone who ever really loved me" to blaming me for all his problems past, present, and future, to blaming his ex in Chicago, to knowing that our apartment is full of hidden cameras and recording devices because we're in cahoots with our neighbors who he swears are FBI agents in an attempt to frame him for some felony crime (we don't even know our neighbors other than to say hi in passing...they aren't feds as far as we know...and there are absolutely no cameras or anything in our apartment) But he took it to a new level and accused me of going through his things when he wasn't home. He said he had "proof" because he had arranged certain things in a certain way to "test" me and I failed. WHATEVER! And then for the first time, my husband got to hear all this as well after he got home from work.
The sad thing is that my husband had just ordered a futon to put in the second bedroom so my son would have somewhere to sleep other than our living room couch. And while it's true that we've been planning to put a futon in there for a while, we were going to do it later in the summer after we get our finances back in order, not at the end of a financially difficult slow season. But I digress.
Anyway after hearing that rhetoric once yesterday and then hearing it again a second time after my husband got home, I had had it. I went for a walk and then stopped by my local bar to have a drink with my bartender friend. When I got back home they had decided that since it was in the 40s my son could stay for the night but because of the drug use he had to be out the next day. At that point I was very uncomfortable being alone with my son so I added the stipulation that he needed to leave either before my husband left for work or at the same time.
My son then asked when my husband and I were going to bed, because he wanted to lie down and go to sleep. It was late, 1:30 to 2 in the morning, so we said yes we should go to bed. And I have no idea what triggered what happened next. As we were getting ready for bed my son yelled at me that he had taken all his medications as well as the Lortab and he hoped I was happy. He stormed out, slamming the door so hard the window rattled. I was shaken by the hate and animosity coming out of his mouth but otherwise not worried, because this isn't the first time he's expressed a desire or threatened to end his own life. It's always turned out to be a ploy for attention or sympathy, a means to an end.
But when I got up this morning I found to my horror all his pill bottles completely empty. I guess we should have called the police last night but I don't know what they could have done as I had no idea where my son went when he stormed out. I thought about calling the police today, or tonight when my husband gets home, or calling hospitals, but I figured if there was a worst case scenario either the police or hospital would contact me.
Anyway about an hour ago I got a call from the psychiatric ward and was told that as soon as he left our premises he called the police and had himself Baker Acted and taken to the hospital voluntarily. At least now I know he's safe for the time being. A Baker Act carries a minimum of 72 hours but can go as long as the doctor deems necessary. And I've decided that when he is discharged he can NOT come back here.
Honestly I wish he could be hospitalized for an extended period, because I truly think between his bipolar and his drug use he's lost his mind or very nearly so. I just don't know if he meets the criteria for long term hospitalization. I don't know if I'll be able to speak to his doctor but if I do I intend on asking him about that possibility. I can't think of anything to help him or guide him towards helping himself that I haven't already tried, and like I said, yesterday he made me extremely uncomfortable being alone with him, to the point where I was looking at the clock every few minutes to see how much longer it would before my husband got home.
I'm also hoping that this stay in the hospital will get him on some kind of fast track to drug rehab (I don't know if it works that way)...he says he's on the waiting list, which I'm skeptical about, but even if he's telling the truth, I do know that the typical waiting period is around 6 months. So maybe, if the doctor feels he needs rehab, this will help speed up the process. Or not.
Bottom line, I think he'll have to have somewhere to stay before he can be discharged, but I'm adamant that it's not here. That ship has sailed for the foreseeable future.