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Freaky Friday

“Hi mom?  I need to go to Urgent Care.  I threw up and I’m not feeling well.  I’m just going to get a ride there, ok?”

These are not the words you want to hear in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday.  Why on earth would you need to go to urgent care because you threw up?  That just doesn’t make sense.  Pluse, since when do you just “get a ride” to urgent care, in the middle of a school day, when you’re that young?

“Urgent Care?  Really?  Is it that bad?  I’ll come get you.”

“No mom.  I need to take care of this myself.  I just want to go by myself.”

“By yourself?   You can’t go by yourself?  You’re too young.  Plus you need your health care info and stuff.  I’m on my way to get you.”

“No mom, please.  It’s too stressful when you’re with me.  They said I don’t need the card.”

“You don’t need your health card?  I’m too stressful?  I’m your mom.  I’m on my way.”

“But….”

“I’m on my way!”

Something wasn’t right.  Since when do you need Urgent Health Care when  you throw up? And get a ride?  With who?  Go by yourself?  Yeah – right!  Not after what we’ve been through!  2 years of hospital visits, pain, complaining, excuses, and mystery issues.  I’m not anywhere near being done with this, and I’m not getting cut out of the picture now.

I drove up to the school, my mind racing with what the issue could really be.  Did something happen at school?  Had she been in classes?  Had someone said something or done something to upset her?  Work is only 4 minutes away, and I got there fairly quickly.  The teacher walked her to my car, and a very unhappy girl, pale but with flushed cheeks and teary eyes got into the car.

“I don’t want to talk about it.  I just don’t feel well”

“Okay – no worries.  Let’s go get things checked out”

The short drive was very quiet.  She was pushed in to the corner of her seat, knees to her chest and visibly agitated.  We pulled up to the doors of Urgent Care and the freak out began.

“I can’t go in there!  Get me out of here!  This is way too awful.  I can never go in there again!!! I’ll be fine – why couldn’t I do this by myself.  You coming in just makes terrible memories!  Just take me back to school!  I probably just have the flu.”

“Okay.  Calm down.  We don’t have to go in.  Do you want to just go for a drive?  Maybe go get a drink, or go for a walk somewhere?  Maybe you just got overwhelmed and need to cool down a little?”

“Just take me back to school.”

“I’m not sure if you should be there if you’re throwing up.  Did you make yourself throw up?  Is there anything you’re not telling me that I need to know?”

“No.  I swear I didn’t – I don’t do that anymore.  Just take me back.”

We drove back to the school – perhaps 15 or 20 minutes had passed.  I walked her in to the zen room and the teacher looked at me with wide eyes. “What, Urgent Care is working at record speeds now?”  I explained that she felt it was maybe unnecessary, so we decided to come back.  We continued to talk a little while longer and I expressed my concern.  I felt something was fishy here but wasn’t sure what.  I hadn’t seen this kind of behavior for a very long time, and it wasn’t sitting well with me.  I asked them to just keep an eye on her, and asked her to check in with me in a few hours.

I went to my car, and immediately called her YCUSP counselor.  “Something just isn’t right.  She’s acting erratic, irrational, and very agitated.  I’ve been to every appointment for 2 years, and now I stress her out?   I don’t get it.  She hasn’t been to classes for 2 days.  She seems so lonely and unhappy.  This isn’t a transition – it’s a plunge, and things are starting to unwind.  The stomach pain is back and she’s overwhelmed.  It’s just too much.  We can’t go back there.”

We decided to set some appointments with the school, and reevaluate what things needed to look like.  If things continued on like this, we both agreed it would be a one way ticket back to program, or even hospital, and we couldn’t let that happen.  Then my other line rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’ve just been having a long chat with your daughter, and she’s told me some information that you need to know.  She’s very afraid you’re going to be mad.”

“Mad?  Why would I be mad?  Can I talk to her?”

“Hi mom? I’m really sorry.  I wasn’t feeling well, and this girl at school gave me a pill.  I think it was gravol – I’m almost sure of it, but I don’t know .  Then I started feeling sicker, and I got really scared.  I don’t know what I took for sure, and I don’t know the girl.  I’m scared it might be drugs or something bad.”

“Ok, well why don’t we go get it checked out?”

“Don’t be mad at me!”

“I’m not mad.  Not at all.  Let’s just go and get it checked.”
“I said I’m not perfect!!!  I can’t always do everything perfect.  You don’t have to be mad.”

“Oooookay – I said I’m not mad.  Not at all.  We need to just go and find out.  I’m sure you’re fine, but better safe then sorry.”

“Why are  you yelling at me!!!! I said I screwed up, ok?!!”

Now I’m not sure what conversation she was on, but it definitely wasn’t the conversation we were currently having.  I could only imagine the look on her teachers face as she was yelling at me on the phone.  She was clearly stressed beyond belief, and was having her own conversation in her head, aside of the one we were having on the phone.

“My friend will drive me, ok?  I’m just going to go get checked out.”

“I haven’t even left the parking lot yet – I’m still here.  I’ll take you.  You can take your health care card and go in on your own if it’s that important to you, but I’m not leaving.  I’m taking you myself, and will be there for you.”

She got back in the car, and we drove to Urgent Care once again.  Reluctantly, I gave her her card, and sent her in on her own.  I couldn’t believe, that after all this time, and all we’d been through, that I was being shoved to the side as a stresser, rather than a supporter.  I was hurt.  What were the Dr’s going to think?  What would she tell them?  What kind of parent lets a young teenager go in to emerg on their own?

A few hours passed by, and I just got more annoyed.  The odd text would come through. “They’re not worried.  Just taking precautions.”  “They’ve done a drug screen and are testing me for mono again because I don’t feel well”.  “They’re not concerned.”  “I’m sorry mom.”  I told her this was the last time this would ever happen.  She needed to understand that I’m her supporter, nothing else.  Then came the in.  It’s amazing how we’re no good as parents until our kids need food, shelter, or money.  “I’m hungry.  Can you get me food?”

Lol.  Hungry.  Of course you’re hungry.  You haven’t eaten all day, and now the stress is going down and you’re starving. “Yes, I can bring you food.  I’ll be right back.”  I ran to her favorite stop, and brought back some protein and veggies for her to have.  “You don’t have to come in, I’ll only be 10 more minutes.”

Ok, that’s it.  “Excuse me ma’am.  Can you tell me where my daughter is?  I went to get some food for her while she waits.” “Well of course.  Just give me a moment……..she’s in room 3.  Right that way.”  I’d had it.  I wasn’t going to be cut out for one more second.  It’s bad enough when the Dr’s ask you to leave, but when your own kids shuts you out?

I walked through the curtain and she was surprised to see me.  Not quite as surprised as I was.  She had an IV going in to her arm, with fluids for dehydration, Toradol for pain, and an antacid for her stomach.  “Here’s your food.  Excuse me, nurse?  Can you please tell me what all of this is for?  I’m surprised you don’t need consent from a parent for all of this.  At what age do you need consent?  I’m not upset – I just want to know.”  The nurse stood there looking at me, stunned.  “Uuuum, well, actually – I don’t really know.  She came in by herself, so we juuuust…..are you ok with this?”  “Well, I guess, but it doesn’t really matter at this point.  I just want an explanation of what’s happening please.”   She explained there were complaints of stomach and head pain.  They said she seemed a little dehydrated, and there was evidence of some acid reflux bothering her throat, so they were giving her something for that.  They didn’t want to bother her stomach, so IV was the way to go.  And, we were still waiting for the results of a drug screen and had taken pictures of her stomach.

Great.  Perfect.  IV pain killers – here we go again.  Drug screening?  Perfect.  Dehydrated. Lovely.  I looked at my daughter and sat down next to her.

“We are not going to be here for 10 more minutes.  This is going to take some time.”

“Really?  I’m sorry.  I hate this place.  I’m not a sick kid.  I’m not a sick kid.  I hate this place.”

“This place was made to help people who feel sick.  It doesn’t mean you are sick.  The past is the past – we don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

“YCUSP offered me to come stay the night.”

“Do you feel you need that?”

“Pffff!  No!  I’m not going there to stay the night.  I’m safe.  I’m not going to hurt myself.  I don’t do that anymore.  I just got scared.  I thought it was a gravol and then started feeling sicker and realized I didn’t even know the girl and I could have taken anything and I didn’t know what to do so I just wanted to come here and take care of anything and…”

“You need to realize I’m here for you.  I’m not perfect, but I will do what I can to stay calm and help you.  Let’s make a plan.  How about no taking anything from anyone.”

“Except you.”

“Except me.  With the amount of things going on, and your other medications, let’s just keep it simple.  Use your oils.  Use your head and call me if things are out of control. Don’t take drugs of any kind from anyone, and certainly don’t drink alcohol.  We don’t know how any of that would interact with everything else.  I know  you want your independence, but you’re only 14.  You have plenty of years to be on your own when you’ll have to make decisions by yourself.  You’re young enough that I still need to be involved.  It’s ok to be a kid.  You don’t ever have to do any of this alone.”

“Ok.  When can we go?”

The Dr. came in and gave the all clear.  2 more hours had passed, (10 minutes – yeah right!), and we finally go the the IV removed and went home.  7 hours in total.

“Can I go hang out with a friend?”

(Chuckle)”I don’t think so.  We’ve had enough excitement for today.  I think we’ll just lay low for the rest of the evening.”

“Yeah.  Ok.  Probably a good idea.  I’m going to clean my room.”

“Whatever makes you happy doll.  Whatever makes you happy.”

We were lucky.  She could have taken anything.  I’m pretty sure that’s why she threw up.  A momentary impulse could have been much, much worse.  You would think with all the advertising, the warnings, school education, pamphlets and extra classes – plus exposure to kids who really have taken something bad, that our kids would know better.  Talk to your kids, and make a plan.  Do they really know?  Pause before you proceed.

The hardest part of parenting isn’t just protecting our kids, it’s protecting our kids from themselves.

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Insignificance

“I remember things going dark.

Eventually all I could hear was my heart beat.

Behind my eyes would turn spotted, then red……

And eventually things would go dark.

Sometimes I’d feel as if I started to slip away.

And then they would come running in and find me.”

“How was school today sweetie?  Did it go ok?  How was it seeing everyone again?”

“Ummmmm.  Not great.”

That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.  We have waited a very long time for this day to come.  The first day of school.  The first day back.  The first day going forward.  She’s in a new school now.  We decided the old one wasn’t a place we wanted to go back to, with all the stressful memories.  Although we say that someday we’ll look back, and some of the stories will seem humorous, they are all very deep, and still very raw.  Much more raw than I thought.

I was hoping for a great story.  She was terribly excited.  We have private transportation right now, as the stress of being on a cheese wagon loaded with K-12 kids is overwhelming on any given day.  Our school division has been kind enough to provide secure door to door transportation so there are no worries.  She was dressed beautifully, with a flowery baby-doll top and leggings, softly colored candy floss hair, and her signature dark pink lipstick.  The driver told me she was shaking a little, and talking tremendously fast.  She hesitated a little, and then went in to face the day.  Everything was planned and charted out, with friends texting her directions to her first classes.

The thing is, one whole year has passed, with at least a half year before that one missed.  Time goes by whether you are present or not, and fitting back in isn’t so easy.  Add some disassociation to that and you have a feeling of being very alone.  It’s amazing how you can walk in to an environment of a lot of people, and feel more alone then when you’re actually by yourself.  It doesn’t seem possible, but it’s very true.  Social anxiety is just that – being alone in the midst of the craziness, and not knowing really how to change it.  I would describe it as an out of body experience, inside of your body.  Feeling like you are absolutely unimportant, and nothing.

“I cried today.”

“Why sweetie?  Why did you cry?  Were you alone?”

“No, I was with my teacher.  I just feel insignificant.  And uncomfortable.  And….overwhelmed.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry that this is so hard.  I’m sure it will get better.  You’ll get back in to it.”

“The thing is, I don’t want to get “back in to it”.  I don’t want to fit in and be a part of the way things used to be.  I don’t want things to be the way they used to be.  I’m not that person anymore.  I don’t want the same nick name.  I’m not anorexic anymore.  I don’t want to sit and be part of the drama, talk about who did what to who, and how much of a witch that other girl is.  I want to love people, and talk about wonderful things.  I want to sit with bare feet, eat raw corn and not be made fun of.  I want to stand in the mud and feel the earth in my toes and feel the rain on my face.  I want to talk about life and how amazing things are.  I’m not sick anymore.  As a matter of fact, I’m the least sick person I know.  I just want to show love to people.”

I sat and looked at her for a moment.  I know how she feels.  We have come so far and have changed so much. I don’t want her to be part of that world either.  She isn’t suicidal anymore – and those days may haunt her but they do not define who she is.  She has turned in to this amazingly confident, sensitive, feeling, empath – but suffers with anxiety, stress, OCD, PTSD, unspecified eating disorders and a few other unmentionable things that circle above her head, threatening to land on her shoulder and speak fear quietly into her ear.  She requires support still, in very significant ways, but she has fought very hard, and grown up perhaps a bit too quickly.

Her smile will light up a room.  She sings with unabandon in the shower, in her room, to the radio, and just about anywhere we go.  She plays in the sand, walks barefoot most of the time, plays in the rain and dances as she bounds up and down the stairs.  Her eyes twinkle while she tells corny jokes, and she has taken a strange pleasure in discovering great new lipstick colors.  Her clothes are usually soft and flowy, sprayed with colorful flowers and the odd piece of lace or ruffle.  At the end of the day she flops down on the couch talking about her many plans to travel the world her VW or PT Cruiser – she can’t decide.  She is definitely not the girl she used to be.

“I don’t know what to say doll.  I wish I could tell you it will be easy, just give it time and things will be better.  Instead, how about this.  Just give it some time – things will be different.  You’ll find your way, whatever that is.  Thank you for telling me you cried.  Thank you for having the courage to share with me how you’re really feeling, because one of my fears is thinking it’s all just ok when it’s really not.  You and I have come a very long way.  Let’s make it our goal just to love the people around us, and if they don’t accept that, well, we can always move on.  There’s always someone who needs some love.”

2

Reflections

It was almost a year ago, that I went shopping with my daughter for school clothes.  I will never forget that day.  I had my arms full of pants, jeans, tops and all sorts of fun things, but no matter what we picked, we just couldn’t find a size that fit.  Size 5?  Nope – too big.  Perhaps a 3 would work.  Still too big.  Then I went for the 2, then the 1, then really – a zero?  Yes – we were there – at a 0 and even 00, and when I looked at how the clothes were hanging I was shocked.  In my head I gasped, and realized we had a problem.

Where are things now?  Time for a update.

Today, we went shopping for school clothes.  It’s about a 30 minute drive to the mall we wanted to shop at.  My daughter chatted along the way about how she found her journal from a year ago, and was shocked at how much she’s changed.  She said she found her entries to be dark, grey and very depressing.  She talked about how now things seem bright, and that life is great – for the most part anyways.  We spoke about how far she’s really come, and headed straight for the mall.

We walked around, looking at different things – lipstick, lingerie, tshirts and were in search of the perfect pants.  We ended up going in to the very same store we shopped at last year.  It was a little dejavu, and I must say I had to breathe pretty deeply and focus on now – not then.  We founds lots of wonderful things to try on, and off to the dressing room she went.  This time, not a size 0.  We discussed how hard it was to find clothes, and although she’s probably only a size 1 now  (maybe a 2 if we went for loose), but at least we’re not at 00.  We were able to talk about self image, potential triggers, and what makes her feel beautiful now.  It was refreshing to see her laugh, twirl and primp herself in front of the mirror.  There was one point where I made the mental note that 0 is very close, and I would have to be watching very closely, but her mood was wonderful.  The marks from all the self harm were there, but really – neither of us could really see them anymore.

All the shopping was making me ready for lunch, but she just wanted to keep on.  Next – a stop for the perfect new lipstick.  There is nothing like a new lipstick.  The feel of the cardboard box, the smooth beautiful tube and perfect shape of the color inside.  You twist it up and look for a moment, and then try it – and hopefully it’s magic.  It was hard to decide, but we managed to settle on 2 new colors for her, and 1 for myself.  Lunch?  Not yet.

We hit a few more stores, tried things on – primped and preened, and got her fitted properly for a few new items.  Lunch?  Well, that’s when the conversation began.

“Mom, I’m really struggling.  I know I have to eat, but I just can’t handle the food in my  mouth.”

“Ok, is there anything that appeals to you at all?  Soup?  Smoothie?  Sushi?  Fries? Salad?  Anything?”

“No, not really.  I know I have to eat.  And I will.  At least I’ll try, but I feel noxious when I swallow.”

We settled on a small vegetarian tray of sushi.  The first few pieces were ok, as long as we kept talking and were distracted.  Then I could see her trying not to taste it, as if it hit her tongue she would be sick.  She managed to swallow, but by the time she hit the last piece she was holding her nose and gagging.

“You don’t have to eat it all.  You made a great effort and got enough down.”

“I’m sorry mom.  I’m really trying”

“I know you are.  Maybe smaller amounts as we go?”

“My stomach hurts because I know I’m hungry.  I hate the pain – I know that’s what it’s from.  I just can’t handle the texture of anything.  It all feels thick.”

The good news?  She’s being honest with me.  She’s letting me know upfront that she’s struggling, and even better – letting me try to help.  The bad news?  She’s struggling and choking back a protein bar with her nose plugged in an effort not to loose weight.  She’s in a safe zone now, but danger is a mere 5+ pounds away.  Her program knows, she knows, and I know that it’s a struggle she may have the rest of her life, but we just have to be patient and honest. I’m being told to try and find one food she can enjoy, but even a liquid other than water turns her off.

More good news.  The rigid, straight back, perfect speech, and demure behaviors are all gone.  Now, I have a fun loving, slightly slouched, mostly barefoot dancing girl, that finds joy in brightly colored hair, tie dyed clothing, flowy pants, and singing at the top of her lungs.  She walks barefoot in the mud (I tell her not to), and dances in the rain.  Her favorite slogan is, “An adventure a day keeps the Dr. away!”.

There is still tough stuff, and we still have some big battles coming that legally I can’t talk about.  She has trouble with parts of her family that usually end up in self harm, so visits are kept to a bare minimum.  She is going to have to face a class room with kids, and a teacher, and schoolwork, and even home work – all things she hasn’t had for almost 2 years.  What will happen when boys start paying attention to her, or girls start making comments about how tiny she is, or tall or colorful, or loud or any of the other things kids say?  Her friends either aren’t in her class, or even in her grade. She won’t be able to lay on the floor in class and make toast whenever she wants anymore, and somewhere, I’m going to have to get her a computer and trust her with it.  Our school division requires each student have a laptop – something I’m not excited about.

We have fought very hard this year.  There have been good days, and not quite as good, but at the end of each and everyone of them, I’m glad and very thankful, that I’ve been given the opportunity to fight.

The toughest part now?  Dealing with the demons…………….

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