We entered the hospital...this time greeted by a female police officer at the desk. She asked who we were visiting, "My son......" (again that little humiliation) - I said in a confident, I do this all the time it's no sweat voice. She checked the list, and said we would have a couple minutes to wait. Apparently they are very strict on the 2 pm start to visiting time.....We sat in the little lobby for two minutes. Already waiting was a young lady with a baby in a stroller, an older woman seated, and an older gentleman checked in right after we did. I had just that short time to wonder what their stories were...who were they here for? Then the police officer said "Fourth Floor visitors can go up." We had to stop and have a green "visitor" stamped on our hands. Then it was back on that direct to the fourth floor elevator - with the strangers this time.
We were stopped to check in at the nurses' station. They hung up our jackets, took our purses, and cell phones, and the Target bag full of candy I brought for Zack. They let me take two boxes out to bring down to his room. No questions asked about it today.
Good thing I knew where his room was..they just sort of set us loose...I showed my husband....down the hall on the right. Room 402. It was dark and dreary.... Zack was sleeping facing away from us...in the same clothes he had on on Friday when I stopped by. We walked in and he woke. That's how he spends his time....sleeping. He seemed pretty happy to see us....I hugged him and handed him the candy. My husband and I sat in the plasticky pink chairs...and Zack stayed in bed, sitting up. He looked rumpled and unshaven. Today he had three empty soda bottles of Orange Crush on his nightstand. I asked how he's eating.... he said fine. And I double checked with him that his food has no bugs in it...He took my question seriously and said it is OK this time. Good news. He looks thinner, though....even with all the candy and soda... and no smoking.
We chatted a few minutes. The first thing Zack asked us was about going to the group home. Ugh. I told him he needs to just chill on that subject. My husband wouldn't chill on it. He explained to Zack that in the past nine months Zack has not improved by living at home... yada yada...blah blah blah... on to try and extol the benefits of Zack living somewhere else...with strangers...under supervision....in a group home. Zack just stared at him...maybe trying to comprehend that the group home is something his dad sees as wonderful. Then my husband ticked me off more...asking Zack questions in a statement form and ending with a "right?"....because he wants to hear the answer he wants to hear....not the real true answer. He did this several times...and I wanted to kick him under the table...but there was no table and I figured me kicking Zack's dad...in a mental hospital in front of my depressed kid wouldn't be kosher. But I was itching to. And he kept nagging about the candy.... how Zack shouldn't eat it all... don't make himself sick. For God's sake...the kid is 21 years old. If he wants to eat ten boxes of candy and vomit it all up let him. He's bored, vegging his days away in a mental hospital. Whatever.
Zack now has a room mate. Not good. The guy was kind of.... odd. Ha. but he was. He came in at one point...closed the hallway door.... and I had my back to him but got chills...wondering what is he doing closing us in. Even me...mom of a mentally ill person, gets a bit creeped out by mentally ill people. I am still not used to it all. The place...the people...the scrutiny...the pity....the surreality. We only sat a few minutes with the guy in the room and I asked Zack to show us around....so we walked down to a couple of the "group rooms". These have more comfortable seating than the pink plasticky chairs...and TVs, DVD players, DVDs....books, magazines.... but as soon as any other person walked into the room it was obvious that Zack became uncomfortable and led us out. One time a nice guy offered, "No, go ahead and stay"...but Zack said "We better leave." So we wound up standing in the hallway. There was a cart with soda and milk on it. Zack helped himself to a carton of milk. Snacks are offered throughout the day - just not during groups. Like the ipod... no snack reward if you don't go to group. No surprise, Zack has not gone to a group. I again tried to convince him to go.. if only to make the time pass...and see different scenery and faces..... I know he won't go. He prefers to sleep the time away.
He didn't seem any better today than when I saw him Friday. I'm not sure what I expected....but it was my stupid magical hopeful wishful thinking.... I wanted him to be better today. Any sign of better would have fueled my hope....but I saw none. The visit was on the pathetic side. I arrived all cheerful and left feeling....hollow. I felt unfulfilled....it was difficult seeing him there...so alone even on this full hospital floor...uncomfortable and bored in his dreary dark room...with his new odd room mate. We lasted less than 20 minutes. We were the first to leave. While standing awkwardly in the hallway, digging for things to talk about, I asked him if he wanted us to stay longer....I felt unwelcome....and wanted an out.....at this point, he didn't care that we were there.... he said "What is there to talk about?" I asked him if he wanted to go back to sleep... he told me "Yes, actually." That was my out. Time to grab our jackets.
I hugged him and told him I'd see him Thursday. I tried to say it in my most reassuring voice. My FOR SURE and COUNT ON IT voice....because I know he does worry about getting out. Who wouldn't after being in a mental hospital for 6 weeks at one point? That must have seemed an eternity in hell. I don't want him to feel deserted and forgotten. Not for a moment.
I am really feeling loss today. I woke up to it. I woke to a dream about my beloved Newfoundland, Tatum. She passed away almost two years ago, but she was the dog buddy love of my life. I have owned dogs since I was a child, but I have never known a dog like her. She was amazing in so many ways and anyone that knew her recognized her specialness. Tatum came into my life when I was at one of my lowest points ever... Lucy had just been diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa...she was little and didn't know what it meant for her...but I did. The first doctor told me coldly and clearly that my treasured daughter would be totally blind by her teen years. The news left me really really deeply depressed. That diagnosis was the first time something truly horrible entered my life. I was not prepared as a parent...to deal with horrible. Until that grim news....I had no solid concept of horrible. How horrible feels... and how horrible takes.
As things go, though, life worked it's magic and I happened to see a documentary on Louis and Clark. Meriwether Louis owned a Newfie that traveled across the country with him. I saw that dog... Seaman....and something in me clicked. I knew for a certainty that owning a dog like that would be my magical fix. I don't understand what it was, but there was something about that big, noble, proud, intelligent, cuddly animal....The next day I was filling out applications online from breeders and in a couple weeks I was the thrilled owner of my Tatum... a sweet, beautiful, loving, loyal girl. My best pal and constant companion for five years. Her devotion and affection pulled me out of my despair and I was able to be the mom my kids needed me to be. I believe things happen for a reason and I swear Tatum was an angel sent to me from God. It's true...she was my magic fix in a fluffy fur coat. My miracle. And through those Tatum years, Lucy grew into a fabulous young woman who handles her visual impairment with grace.
I still grieve the loss of my Tatum. I remember the day I had to put her down....she was so weak and sick. I hovered over her silky black fur... petting her and crying... whispering my love...letting her know I was there with her, trying to give her some comfort.....like she had given me for years. My clear memories of that gray cold morning still tear me up.
Today, in my dream, I had a house full of Newfies roaming in every room... all black... full grown and some puppies.... I searched desperately for the one with the white spot on her chest. My Tatum. I found her and the two of us went together on a quest for another lost friend....
Penny woke me up with her soft snout in my face. So funny.... after the death of my Tatum, I was bereft. I needed to fill that pain caused by the torn up hole in my heart... I bought Penny from the same breeder within a month. I named her Penny from Disney's "The Rescuers".... I thought she'd be my rescue dog. Rescuing me from my heartache. I learned something important from the experience. You cannot fill a hole...there is no quick band-aid patch for grief. Penny is precious to me...but she is very different than Tatum was. I still miss and grieve for Tatum.
I miss Zack...who he used to be. The loss of my son feels raw today. I am trying to hang onto hope...the new medications really haven't had time to help him yet. And I'm trying to hold onto hope that life will work it's magic once again.
My beloved Tatum and me
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