Last week, after dealing with my stepson's meth addiction on and off for two years, we finally came to the realization that the meth has brought out bi-polarism and then even worse, he has plunged head-long into schizophrenia - possibly both paranoid and delusional. This is not even CLOSE to being a close call. This boy talks to the voices, curses like a sailor with Tourette-syndrome with NO recognizable sentence structures at all. As example of the gibberish, the other day he said, "Fork! Garbage bat voice want sub force talk! Lies!" Now, you tell me if I'm right or not.
So, when he was at his worst, I asked him if he would voluntarily allow me to get him help getting the voices out of his head - you know, the ones that are controlling everything. He pleaded for me to do it. So, his momma and I drove him to our nearest county hospital where we spent 10 FREAKIN hours going from one triage to another. We finally made it to the psyche-ward - interestingly on floor 13, I kid you not - and he was very tired. (Duh! Spent 10 hours sitting on our hands waiting... and the poor boy's paranoia had kept him up for days at this point!) Anyway, he was laid out across a couple of chairs in the waiting room for the psyche-ward catching a couple of minutes of shut-eye. A cop walks into the room, streaks over to him, smacks him in the head with rolled up papers and yells at him for sleeping. That set him off - as it would any NORMAL person! He immediately started gibbering and un-volunteered himself. *rolling eyes* 10 hours wasted by a forkin cop. If I ever see that pig-licker, I'll kick the apple into his teeth!
*sigh*
So, we dejectedly drive back home with my stepson gibbering his nonsense into my ear the entire way. When we got home, we gave him two Tylenol PMs and he conked out. My wife and I got some shut-eye while he was down.
Later that evening, he was still gibbering and talking to the voices. He was making crazy declarations like "I hate you for loving me! You're just going to have 1013 my a$$ because I'm never going to let them hypnotize me!" So, I told him that we would try to get him some help a different way. Figuring that if I called into the crisis line, told them what was going on, they - yes THEM - would send out a mobile psyche to the house. THEN, my stepson would spout his gibberish and delusional rants in front of said psycho, I mean Psychologist, who would immediately 1013 him.
Would it be THAT easy!?!?!? Ummm, I don't think so. She and her plainclothes-cop sidekick showed up THREE hours later and my stepson would not say a word in their presence. Not one word. Psyche packs it all up and they move on up the road.
That's when I figured out one of the small cues that he does when he is coming up out of the depths of the paranoid-delusions! He started watching TV again!
Anyway, after psycho and her fairy left, we talked with him for like an hour, slowly moving the subject off of him and onto other people who have been helped by therapy, etc. By the end of the conversation, he was completely normal. Completely! Go figure.
Now our plan is to try to get him to make an appointment with a local outpatient place that can suck up the no payment-option and hopefully get him diagnosed and on the right drug and in therapy BEFORE his next death-defying sludge into the world of nightmares.
*sigh*
