Photo by Roman Skrada

My son has been in residential treatment for two years this month.  I can’t believe he’s been living away from home for that long.  It seems like it was just a few months ago we were sitting at the kitchen table, making the decision on the residential programs we wanted to look at as options.  It’s been difficult having him away from home so much, but we are lucky that the program isn’t too far away (although with gas prices they way they are right now, it seems farther), and we talk on the phone several times a week.  Tim’s doing well – he’s been mostly stable going on 10 months now, the longest stretch since he was in primary school.  His last few visits home have been issue-free, he’s talking about his symptoms and feelings more and more, and he’s even discussing med options with his doctors on his own.  He’s holding down a part-time job through his RTC vocational program, moved from the dorm-style program to a group home on the RTC campus, and he’s improved nearly four grade levels in two years.  And every week, when I talk to his caseworker, I wait for the other shoe to drop.