I hate getting “the call” from Tim’s RTC. “The call” is someone calling to say he’s been agitated / in a fight / hostile / depressed / raging / some other behavior that is unsafe or worrisome. I got “the call” yesterday about noon, telling me Tim had a yelling match with a classmate, the classmate kicked him, and he responded by screaming death threats while pummeling said classmate in the head. It apparently took two staff members more than two minutes to get him off of the classmate. This was preceded, apparently, but a few days of pacing, wearing an absurdly inappropriate amount of layers of clothing, and some squabbles about hygiene. Tim had talked to Tom on the phone but he’s never been willing to tell his symptoms to Tom for some reason, only me. So at 1 PM yesterday, I left the office and headed up to Tim’s RTC, to see if I could see what was going on, fearing that Tim was on the verge of complete relapse and full-blown psychosis. I really thought I was going up there to see if I had to have him admitted to the hospital.
After dinner I took him to Kmart where he literally (not figuratively) jumped up and down while pushing a cart up and down every aisle, pointing at things saying, “I need that….I need that too,” FOR AN HOUR. I was exhausted just watching him. I caved in on gum, Old Spice body spray, and a new Greg Jennings jersey, and we checked out, got back in the car, and drove back to ODTC. On the way back he admitted he took his PRN because, when he’s fidgety and anxious, it helps him ignore the voices to have his PRN. Then he asked me to tell his house staff aide how he’s feeling. We arrived after another 20 minutes of radio dial rapid-changing, seat-bouncing, laughter for no reason, and non-stop talk. Tim hugged me goodbye and bounced upstairs, and I talked to his aide. Before I even opened my mouth, the aide said, “Manic, right? He’s early this Fall.” I was simultaneously pleased at this staff person, who’s been with Tim since he was admitted in 2009, knew Tim well enough to be able to know what was going on, and irritated that the case worker / school staff / therapist didn’t think to talk to the guy who’s been with Tim for 30 months but only works after 5 PM.
I sent a text on the way home that said, “He’s only manic, not psychosis,” and then laughed that “it’s not funny it’s ridiculous” laugh to myself that the idea that my son is manic is a BLESSING. Ah, the crap you can get used to, huh?