routerecalculation

Part of this whole crazy process is the pleasure of dealing with some really great professionals. Our team, for the most part, has been really fantastic. They will engage with me as much, or as little as I want. If I show the willingness to learn and engage, they do their best to communicate and teach.

Recently our psychiatrist got a new resident. I realize that the ACH is a teaching hospital, but changing teams along the way can be very hard, and in our case, almost disastrous.

I am not an expert in many things. My education is music, and most recently coffee. I work in the service industry, so I deal with many different kinds of people all day long. I learned when I was young that communication was important, but have realized even more in my career that it is essential for success.

Now I’m not the kind of person to cause a rucus. I’m pretty reasonable and fairly easy going. I’m not a scholar, and school wasn’t my strong point, but I don’t think that should really matter. Treat others the way you want to be treated. Love one another. Words im passionate about. I have taught my children to act that way, my employees, and that’s how I act. HOWEVER, if you want to ruffle my feathers, talk to me like I’m stupid, or treat me like I’m dumb. Go ahead. I dare you. The result isn’t going to be good for anyone – especially if one of my cubs is involved. The mother bear will rise and show her teeth.

When my daughter was first admitted, we talked about depression medication and that it would be necessary. We were given 2 options (sort of anyways, we were told about 2 different kinds), Prozac and Zoloft. Both have positives and both have risky side effects. One side effect is increased suicidal thoughts. This is terrifying, especially when you’re dealing with that already. Make it worse? Really?

I wanted to go with the Zoloft. One of my boys has had great success with it, and I used it for post partum depression. The Dr considered that but decided Prozac was the way to go, so we agreed, listened to the risks, signed the forms and forward we went.

As time went forward we slowly saw a small brightening of her mood. Within a week we had an escalation, then another, and another. They decided to add on a drug called Syraquil. It makes you drowsy, which could slow down the suicidal thoughts and increase appetite, which in this case would be good. At first it knocked her out and visits were like seeing a zombie. She said she was so tired that she couldn’t do anything if she wanted to. As she continued to get accustomed to it, they increased the dose. Eventually it wasn’t working enough, so they asked if they could add a small morning dose to ease the morning anxiety. Once again, we agreed. That one wasn’t so easy – took some convincing to get my X to agree but I felt it was ok.

Things seemed to improve slightly, but we were now at a large dose of the Prozac and 2 different doses of syraquil, yet the improvements didn’t seem big enough.

Along the way my X was pushing for shock therapy treatments. He wanted her chipped (still does), and would always be disagreeable to increases. They have to have approval from both parents, so sometimes that is good, and sometimes more difficult.

After 3 months of being stuck, we talked and requested a medication change, with the understanding that she would remain in hospital till the change was completed and she was stable. Within days I noticed a change, and the Dr agreed, so we decided to continue forward, now on the Zoloft. We made a plan, a solid plan, and were going to stick to it:

Change meds
Stabilize meds
Get in to ADTP
Transition from ACH to ADTP
D (discharge)
HOME!!!

Seemed pretty clear to me, to the counselor, to the psychiatrist, but not to the resident. The problem came in when the Dr. (Psychiatrist ) went on a holiday for 2 weeks and left the resident in charge. Now remember, parents always have to give approval for starting, stopping or changing medication.

Problem 1.
The resident was having a session, and told my daughter that she was just looking for attention, and needed to get with the program. If she didn’t, she would get transfered to a facility and be held for 5 years until she was 18. Distorted thinking or not, this sent her in to a tail spin. When I went in to visit, she was beside herself thinking I was going to have her locked up for 5 years. I was horrified, talked to nurses and they had no clue of any facility like that existing. The next day I called the resident to discuss the situation, and where this facility is, and what on earth he was talking about. Remember how I said I don’t like being made to feel stupid? The mama bear appeared! I was so upset by his condescending, disrespectful tone to me. I couldn’t shake it – and I couldn’t let it go. All he did was side step, and speak to me like I had no idea about anything. I called our counselor, who gave me the head Dr’s direct number and registered an official complaint.

2. D
We don’t say the D word, because every time we do bad things happen. After that session, the resident decided they may as well just send my daughter home. “SAY WHAT?!” That wasn’t the plan. I called again, and he said he saw no reason to keep her there. Again, I called and complained. My words were heard and rhe plan would continue.

3. Medication change
The resident called me and said he’d like to boost the syraquil to a larger morning dose. I guess he figured if he kept her tired enough, she wouldn’t do anything. The plan was to increase the zoloft, not the syraquil. I asked why the change and he couldn’t give me a reason. He didn’t call her dad for approval, and went ahead and doubled it. After 2 days I found out and called again. This time I asked to speak to the head honcho to find out why dope her in to exhaustion instead of treating the depression? At the end of the conversation we couldn’t agree, so we agreed to disagree. I asked for the increase to stop, and for no changes to be made till OUR Dr returned and we could discuss the plan again. Do not pass go and do not collect $200.00!

Troubled with all of this, I called our counselor and stressed my concerns. “I’m no Dr and I’m pretty sure he’s not a Coffee Master. I don’t trivialize him when he doesn’t know what’s in his cup. I expect the same treatment back”. They got the point.

You have the right to know what’s going on with your child and what course of action is being taken. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and don’t take everything as gospel. Have conversations, stay in touch. Call for updates, request face to face meetings and if need be, go a step higher.

They know me well at ACH. I wave to cleaning ladies, smile at porters. Security nods their heads, and the cafeteria lady knows I’m just getting hot water – same as always. The angry parking lady sees me pass her almost every day. The nurses, and there are many of them, pretty much have a nick name for me now they’ve seen me so often. They drink my coffee, have donations in their craft room from my company, and even occasionally get a batch of Dr Who cookies or muffins to munch on during the night shift.

Stay in touch. Do your due diligence. Knowledge is power – be proactive, not reactive. Most of all, be respectful. It takes a team to make this all work.

We have a plan. Small detours happen, but our goal is in sight.

Get help. Reach out. You can do this.

“We’re not taking your daughter in to the eating disorder program. We think she’s better suited for ADTP – Adolescent Day Treatment Program ”.
Those words will ring very clearly in my ears for a long time. It was explained to me ( and I think I’ve already mentioned this before), that out of the kids who die from eating disorders, 50% of those deaths are from suicide. Treating the eating disorder is like treating a branch. You still have a sick tree.
After that appointment, I had to head back to ACH for an appointment with our family counselor to discuss how things had gone at the meeting. I was feeling down, and discouraged. I sat down in one of the counseling rooms, and talked about the morning, going alone, listening to my options. We started talking about the ADTP program, and the fact there is a waiting list, so although we didn’t know exactly when she’d get there, the chances were that she would. This was a little frustrating because if I talked to a Dr., they said 2 weeks, and if I talked to a counselor they said up to 5 months, and nurses – they had no idea. My emotions were starting to feel like a yo-yo.
The counselor talked on about the environment, what we could expect, and then she said, “the age of the kids at ADTP is 13 – 17, but mostly 15-17. Your daughter will be the youngest person there. They will discuss strong topics, including suicide, depression, bullying, drugs, even sex………..”.
At that moment time stood still. I was holding a book in my hand and covered my face with it, and the realization that life would never be the same became very, very real. My little girl was never going to be the same. She was going to be with older kids. Suffering older kids. I swear I felt my heart tear apart inside my chest. I’ve said before I’m not usually a crier, but at that moment I cried, out loud – I actually sobbed out loud, like I never had in my life. I felt for a moment that my child had died (or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what it would feel like). I’m not meaning to disrespect anyone who’s lived through that, but it was like a movie, where you see someone burst out with hideous sobbing, unable to even sit up in their chair. I covered my face and just couldn’t quit. My little girlie…………
I apologized to the counselor and was embarrassed, after all my daughter is still here and my behavior must have looked ridiculous, but the shelter of the ACH was going to be gone, and now we would be in the real, tough, scary world. I felt heartbroken for what she has been through, what my boys, my fiancé, my family, and what I had been through, and I knew at that moment it wasn’t about to get easier any time soon.
Here is a bit of info on the Adolescent Day Treatment Program in Calgary. This is a referral program only for kids suffering deeply from all of the issues my daughter is going through. It’s run by the same man who runs the Eating Disorder Clinic in Calgary, so they are familiar with many different issues. Once your child is accepted, they go in to a 3 part program that will eventually integrate them back in to the normal school system. They are assigned a CBE teacher. Yoga and phys. ed. are mandatory classes, as well as 2 other classes each day. They also get intense group, private, and psychiatric counseling by one solid team. Parents must attend a caregiver support group once every 2 weeks. There’s a cook on sight that makes breakfast and hot lunch for the kids. They attend daily but dont go on stat holidays or CBE PD days.
Really when it boils down to it, the program sounded great (once I was past the shock of how quick my daughter was going to grow up). The kicker was the transportation. We don’t live in the city, nor do I work in the city, but my daughter was going to have to be there every day and the ACH wasn’t going to provide transportation. When I got home I decided to email the principal at my daughters school and ask if there were any provisions for transportation through our school board. If not, I was hooped! To my amazement and delight, the school division we are in does provide transportation for students needing support in different districts. AMAZING NEWS! Absolutely a completely amazing piece of news. The stress of transportation would no longer be something I have to worry about. Complete relief!
There is help out there, and I’m learning that all I have to do is ask. This isn’t an easy thing for me, but I am learning. I’ve been told over and over and over again by my own counselor, and by my daughters family counselor to ask for help, pull in my resources, this isn’t time to try and be a super hero. “You need support” they always say. I find it much easier to give than to receive, but in this case, I was ready to receive with arms open! Having that transportation help was the difference between hardship at my job, safety risks, and knowing that I know where she is from when she leaves home in the morning, to when she returns home.
If you are suffering through this, or know someone who is, ask for help. Call the help lines, go to the hospital, talk to someone, DO SOMETHING.
Get help – don’t give up. There is help out there – and people need to know. Don’t be afraid to talk about it.