Update on the Little Prince

My last post was one of desperation. I have to say that things didn't get much better after that. Billy's tirade lasted four or five days. One particularly bad day, I took my phone, walked out onto the porch, shutting the front door on the sound of Billy banging on his bedroom door, and sat down to call a close friend and cry. We talked for a while and one thing she said to me was that she was not an advocate of institutionalizing children, but she was afraid that in this case, it might be necessary. I was NOT pleased to hear that.

My husband had worked the night before and as he works 24 hour shifts, he was sleeping that morning. When he woke up and found me in a state of tears, snot, and raw nerves, he said I should have woken him up. He said that we might have to think about hospitalizing Billy. I immediately burst into sobs and wails, saying that's what my friend had said and I couldn't imagine such a thing. How could I send my 6-year-old away to strangers? He's my baby! My husband helped me count my blessings to calm me down and urged me to call our counselor to see what he thought.

When the counselor called me back and heard the tale of woe, his response was that if we didn't get him under control quickly, we might have to send him to a residential treatment facility. We met with him and I cried in his office. I knew that I would do whatever was best for Billy, even if it meant sending him to some in-patient treatment, but the idea of it ripped my heart out. Our counselor urged me to harass the psychiatrist's office every day until we were able to get an earlier appointment. He said he was not able to make diagnoses, but he was leaning towards Billy having bipolar disorder, as well as some OCD, which would require some other meds (which would hopefully bring the situation under control without having to send Billy anywhere). We, personally, have long thought he might have some mild autism, perhaps Asperger's.

The psychiatrist's office was able to get us in last Wednesday. Since our counselor works some days out of the same office as our psychiatrist, he had met with the doctor and discussed with him the problems and his observations before our appointment. When I came in, he asked me some questions and then asked me if we were willing to go to a stronger medicine. It carries more risks, but we are at our wit's end and we don't know what else to do. The counselor who has been at this for thirty years doesn't even know what else to do at this point. And it has to be better than sending him to a facility. So, they took him off his afternoon med and his antidepressant and put him on an anti-psychotic. The doctor is not willing to change his diagnosis yet or label Billy as anything, but the meds that he put him on treat autism, bipolar, and schizophrenia. My ex-husband's family has more than enough bipolar and schizophrenia to go around, so it is entirely possible that one or more of my children could inherit these problems.

So, we've started him on half a dose. When his body gets used to that and he overcomes his sleepiness from the meds, we will bump him up to a full dose. We are praying that this makes a difference for him and that he will have little to no side effects from it. He did not behave well Saturday, when I hosted a friend's baby shower. But, he has been pretty good yesterday and today, so we are praying that this continues.

One blessing to come out of this was that I visited a new Sunday School class last week and met a woman who has a son with mild autism. He was placed on the same meds and she swore by them. So, when the doctor suggested them, I had already heard of them. And it is nice to have someone to talk to who knows what we are going through.

Our next step with him is to get him a dental appointment. He has needed some work done for a while, but it was either that we didn't have the money for it or that we had hoped he would lose the baby teeth soon rather than wasting a fortune on teeth that may fall out in a month. However, he has a couple that are really causing him problems and look really bad. My husband also believes that if his teeth were fixed, he might eat more and might be better-tempered. However, I am not sure how we will get him to hold still for the work I foresee coming. If they come near him with a needle or a drill, he will flip. The insurance company said they would cover sedation if the dentist gets pre-authorization and can show reason why it is necessary. I had hoped for a little bit more of a concrete diagnosis for Billy. I mean, they might be more likely to approve sedation for a child who has autism or bipolar disorder than a child who is just diagnosed as ADHD. ADHD just doesn't adequately cover Billy.

If his eating doesn't improve after his dental work, I am going to take him back to our primary care physician. I worry about his physical health as well as his mental and emotional health. He hasn't gained weight in more than two years (he's always been very skinny), he's almost seven and hasn't had even a hint of a loose tooth yet, and he complains about stomachaches all the time. He doesn't sleep well either, but I assume that has more to do with the mental and emotional issues he has.

Please pray for my little guy. I feel so sorry for him. But, I also feel sorry for the girls and for us because we all suffer with this.

Boycott!

I have never been an advocate for boycotting corporations. A few years back, I heard of a lot of Christians that were boycotting Wal-Mart because they contributed funds towards gay/lesbian causes. I considered joining the boycott because their reasoning made sense: I don't want my money supporting that lifestyle, which I am opposed to.

However, there are two reasons which made me reconsider. One was logic. Can you possibly track every dollar you spend and be sure that none of them goes to fund causes that you disagree with? If you shop at the grocery store, and the cashier is gay and his paycheck is paid by your shopping there, should you boycott that grocery store? What about your hair dresser, who may be secretly pregnant and planning to get an abortion? If you tip her, does that mean you contributed to what you believe is wrong? It's impossible to know where every dollar you spend goes. What about your tax dollars? Where do they go?

The second reason I reconsidered is because of the apostle Paul.  In I Corinthians 8, Paul writes that although he may have the liberty to eat meat offered to idols, he won't if it causes his weaker brother to stumble.  He never said that they should boycott the shops that sold meat offered to idols or not give their money to support such organizations.  He speaks of knowledge to know that what you are doing does not violate your faith.

While I won't donate to support organizations that I disagree with, I don't believe that it's necessary to boycott J.C. Penney or Wal-Mart or whichever corporation is currently served up on a platter on the altar of good intentions.

Happy New Year

So, if you know me or my family or have read this blog before, you know that my son has ADHD and ODD and we are in the middle of counseling for that, as well as medicating him. It has been a VERY bumpy road, but over the last four years, I've grown accustomed to most everything. I get tired and frustrated, but mostly, it's nothing new. This week has shown me that I ain't seen nothin' yet. Welcome to the new year....

Billy, as you may know, is six years old. He and his sisters went to visit their dad on Christmas day and stayed until the 27th. Billy came back a new boy. It was amazing. I thought maybe they had found a look-alike to switch him with or maybe he had been hypnotized or something. The only real answer was that his dad had given him a PSP (Play Station Portable) for Christmas and he was told that if he didn't behave with us, he would lose it at his dad's. As an added incentive, he was also informed that his dad would buy him some new games for it, if he was really good.

For two days, he was an angel. I was dumbstruck. He didn't get in trouble for anything. He was sweet and pleasant and I really enjoyed him. I was recovering from being sick, so it was nice to be able to sleep in, my husband gave him his morning medication, and then I woke up to a happy family.

We were running low on his morning meds, which are his primary ADHD medication. His psychiatrist had had to cancel his appointment and couldn't fit him in again until the end of January. They went ahead and wrote a prescription to make up for the month. His doctor's office is in Leawood, KS and we live in Raytown, MO, so I waited to pick it up until he had his counseling appointment in Overland Park, KS on Friday. While his behavior for two days had been exceptional, his counselor predicted it would be short-lived. Judging from the behavior we had recorded before Christmas, Billy obviously wasn't taking us seriously and it was time to up the ante. He brought Billy in and explained to him that he cannot continue to treat his mother the way he has and outlined the new rules, which allow very little wiggle room for him. And, sure enough, the good boy started to unravel later that day.

I didn't think to take the prescription in immediately to have it filled. He had his last dose yesterday morning. About 5pm, it dawned on me that it was New Year's Eve and the pharmacy might be closing early. I called and it was already closed. I thought I might go out after the kids went to bed and find a 24-hour Walgreen's to get it filled.

Billy ended up having a meltdown. It all started because he took a bite of a sandwich that had been sitting on top of the trash can. I said that was gross, so then he wanted me to kiss him, to gross me out further. When I refused, he picked up a can of Febreze and aimed it at me. I told him to put it down several times. He ignored me and sprayed me in the face with it. He not only got me, but also the chicken I was cutting up for dinner. I told him to go to his room and since this was his second strike, he would be getting a peanut butter sandwich for dinner, instead of eating with the rest of us. He refused to go, so he was escorted to his room. He returned with a boxed game and threw it at me, hitting me in the back. My husband got up then and dealt with him while I finished dinner. It sounded like a major battle in there, but Scott eventually got Billy calmed down, but not before Billy tore down the shade in the window.

However, after bedtime, Billy started banging on the door, which is a no-no, according to his counselor. As per the counselor's instructions, I went in and held him down for 15 minutes (once he gets riled, he continues to escalate--the holding seems to "reset" him), during which he fought me constantly, spitting on me, etc. After that, I found that he had broken a CD I had let him borrow from the library, so now he not only has to use his Christmas money to replace the shade, but also the CD.

I was so wiped, I didn't want to get out again, so we decided we would get his meds filled on our way to church since the 24 hour Walgreen's is about a block from the church. But, we slept in and missed church. When we woke up, we were laying there, discussing what the game plan was for the day when the house phone started ringing. The only people that ever call our house phone are the kids' friends and telemarketers, so we didn't run to answer it. But, then I heard sounds of a child skirmish, so I immediately went to check it out. Billy's hands were covered in what looked like glitter glue. His oldest sister was screeching about how he had dumped out all of her makeup and something about prank calls they had been getting. I was in the bathroom, trying to wash Billy's hands when the doorbell rang. Our middle child looked out the window and yelled, "Oh my goodness! It's the cops!" I could hear my husband let them in and talking to them and I gathered that Billy had somehow called 911. The "prank calls" the girls had been referring to was the 911 operator trying to call back. It came up as blocked and the girls wouldn't answer it.

I finished cleaning Billy up and sent him to put some clothes on since he was running around in his underoos, for some unknown reason. Then he went to face the two police officers in our living room. They were very nice and understanding, but the woman lectured him on the difference between an emergency and playing with the phone. He looked scared while they were there, but after they left, he was laughing like it was no big deal. We were NOT amused. We sent him to his room.

I went out to get his meds refilled. The pharmacy we usually go to was closed for the holiday, so I went to Walgreen's. They told me they don't accept our insurance anymore! Since when? I get his nighttime meds there every month because our other pharmacy doesn't carry it! And it isn't as though we have some weird insurance--it's Blue Cross Blue Shield! She said that they made a deal with CVS. Lovely. I DESPISE CVS! Now, I'm wondering if that's the only place I can fill at now. If so, that's ridiculous! And thanks for changing our insurance without telling us!

So, I headed over to CVS, reluctantly. Of course, instead of a 20 minute wait like everywhere else, it's going to be an hour (guess that's better than the time I had to go there for meds for an allergic reaction I was having--don't get me started). So, I go to the store to get a few things and kill time. While there, my phone rings. It was CVS calling to tell me that they couldn't run my discount card. Our psychiatrist gave me a 50% discount card because the meds are so expensive. Even with insurance, the copay is $60 a month. The card makes it $30 a month. It's still a lot when you add in that he has two other meds (not as expensive, thank goodness) and the copays for both a psychiatrist and a counselor (the latter he sees once a week). Well, I guess I didn't realize he had been on it so long, but it's only good for a year and guess what? The year is up. Of course it is. They told me that if I can get the info for another card over the phone, they can process it that way. But, it's Sunday and it's New Year's Day, so there is no one in the doctor's office to give me numbers off a new discount card. So, now it's a decision of whether I buy the groceries in the cart or buy Billy's prescription at full-price. My husband and I decided since it was getting so late anyways, we would just give him his afternoon pill and try to call the doctor in the morning.

So, I finished my grocery shopping and came home. We were putting away groceries and cleaning up when my husband found that Billy's bottle of nighttime meds (anti-depressant) was empty. I just filled it about a week and a half ago. I nearly lost it. Billy denied it at first, but eventually cheerfully confessed to pouring it down the drain because it tastes yucky. I'm looking into the face of this adorable 6-year-old, who is telling me that he just wasted some more medicine that I am sure the doctor will not refill this soon. He is smiling, like he he has had the best day ever, despite the police showing up, the absent meds, the glowering twitching parent in front of him. Then I notice the blue fish stamps all over his face. I look around the room and see green marker on the carpet. I demanded all the crayons, markers, stampers, anything that marked. I confiscated them all. Then I gave him an hour to get his room clean or I would clean it for him.

An hour later, my husband and I came back and filled up two trash bags. Billy acted like he didn't even care. How do you work with a child that doesn't care and doesn't have any remorse?

It's like I have an overgrown two-year-old. I feel like I need to sleep in front of his door or handcuff myself to him so that I know where he is and what he is up to every second of every day. He sneaks out of his room at night and pours liquid soap out into the bathtub or hydrogen peroxide all over the floor. He mixes soaps with bath fizzers. He scratches "No Girls Allowed" in the paint on his wall. He finds scissors and cuts large holes into his pajama bottoms and pillowcases. He squirts his sister's body lotion all over the basement floor. He put her lip gloss on all the doorknobs. And that's just the mischief he gets into.

There's the spitting and the punching. He calls me an MF. He calls his sisters the B-word. He calls everyone idiots. He throws things at his grandma. He tears up everything, or tries to, when he has a temper tantrum--from kicking car seats and windows when we're in the car, to tearing down blinds and throwing things when he's at home. He bites. He kicks the cats. He ignores me and tells me "No!" He runs and hides from me when he's in trouble or doesn't want to do something. He tells us he hates us and wishes we were all dead. He tells me he's going to kill me.

Calgon doesn't take me far enough away. If I were a drinker, I'd be an alcoholic for sure. His counselor says it's going to be slow progress, but times like this, I swear I can FEEL gray hairs and hear my life clock ticking backwards: there's another year off my life. I don't think MY antidepressants are strong enough for days like these. I hope that in a few years, I can look back on this post and laugh and thank God for how far Billy has come. But, I really hope it doesn't take years.