Well, I guess I have kept everyone in suspense long enough. That last post was a cliff hanger! I don’t know if it is just the topic of this part of Jessy’s story, but I have really struggled lately with consistently getting to this blog and writing. This event was by far the scariest and most painful as a parent and avoidance of talking about any of what Jessica has been through has been my usual mode of operation. But we are talking about experiences growing the brain. So the experience of writing about it forces me to reflect on those moments of neuron building moments.
So, we ended the last post just as the police arrived at my house. Remember I had given Jessica 50mg of Seroquel per the psychiatrist in attempt to calm her down. Well, it worked and she was asleep on the couch when the police arrived (which was no that long after I called). Because it was a 911 call, and she had been threatening to harm herself, the officers had to assess that she was no longer an imminent threat to herself, so I had to wake her up. So I did. The officers were very calm and compassionate. I expected Jessica would wake up and just say she wanted to go back to sleep. But she didn’t. I honestly cannot remember the exact chain of events at this time, but it ended with Jessica yelling she was going to kill herself. The officers had no choice but to put take her to the hospital. I don’t remember if they handcuffed her (it is all a blur), but she was resisting and yelling and they each took a side and walked her out to their car. I followed in my own car, fighting back the tears, full of fear, thinking, “This happens to other people’s kids not mine! This happens to the kids that I provide services too, not mine!”. A mother’s desperate attempt to make sense of what was going on, even a mother who is familiar with how the system works (as a provider). The process as a consumer is very scary and if you have never been through it, it is full of unknowns.
Once at the hospital, Jessica was taken to a room and I was not allowed to see her. I was taken to a room with tables and chairs and greeted by a familiar face (a program supervisor from one of the clinics in our County. He was very compassionate, and the tears began to flow. Fear for my child, Jessica’s fear of herself and the thoughts she was having, these have definitely been growth experiences for both of us…and her brother too. There is more to the story and part 3 is on it’s way.
Being Jessica's Mom: Growing up on the Autistic Spectrum 