PHOTO CREDIT: Heart & Soul Photography
Several days ago I found a box of frozen juice bars that I bought not long before my most recent post in this blog. It was mid-summer and as usual, hot and humid. I’d accidentally left them at my son’s apartment. They’re in my freezer as I write, but they don’t look nearly as tempting as they did in July.
The summer was like one long day. One filled with near constant telephone calls, online research and intense email communications.
Having reached out and asked for help in the medical community led to my son’s lengthy and rather unfortunate stay in a psychiatric hospital.
My son is doing okay and maybe even quite well. He’s out of the hospital, which is very good! He’s in recovery and I’m processing the fear that those psychiatrists instilled in my mind.
The inpatient psychiatrist and her personal team of professionals claimed that my son was there for symptoms of mental illness, but technically and truthfully, he became their patient because of, “a note left on the (local) hospital’s computer,” written six months before the evening he arrived in the emergency room for help.
The note shaped the next months of his life, and mine. It almost shaped a few years.
I’ve learned that time is different for me than it is to the psychiatrists we had to deal with. In their time, a few years of my son’s life can be discussed and measured in days, as in, “up to thirty days,” or, “for one-hundred and fifty days…”
In my time, one hundred-and fifty days equals five full moons, three important family birthdays, one Thanksgiving, one Christmas, days and weeks of walking in the fresh air, one Autumn, thousands of shimmering and glowing leaves to see, two dogs’ lives worth of days to enjoy, two semesters, one Winter, several snowmen and at least, three bowls of snow cream.
In their time, one hundred and fifty days is long enough for them to mythologize, diminish or selectively forget about the United States Constitution, including the Bill of Rights.
Something inside of me changed as the days turned into weeks, and finally months. Faith is more present in my heart and I like that. Both my son and I are on a different, yet comfortably familiar path of holistic healthcare. We are working with a Taoist Alchemist and have better access to an open-minded, progressive thinking neuro-medical practitioner.
I’m more cautious than I was before about our modern-day Western approach in the treatment for mental illness. It doesn’t work the same for everyone. Personally, accepting what psychiatry offers, requires a separation of my heart and mind. I’ve never been good at that. As long as my heart is still there, I’ll be listening to what it has to say.
Dealing with the mental healthcare system has been a rather political process and, one which I don’t want to repeat. I’m sure my son feels the same way. I hope and pray that he doesn’t have to deal with those people again.
Mental illness is as physical as any other illness is. There can be a hundred different reasons the brain malfunctions and a hundred different causes for each reason. Treating a person’s brain is complicated medicine. The field of psychiatry needs a revolution.
Thank you for visiting Dogkisses’s Blog!
- Alison Hymes, “Psychiatric Patient” is Discovered to have a Brain Aneurysm, Psychiatrists say She Won’t be Treated for it (bipolarblast.wordpress.com)
- The Drug Industry and Psychiatric Disease (cureitclues.wordpress.com)