Monday, October 22, 2007

"You decided what?"

I'm okay. Ever had anything happen that is so bizarre that it ... well ... I have no idea. I will just tell you.

Frankie came home from counseling today saying that his counselor talked some sense into him and he was staying.

Everyone got that? Frankie said he is staying.

They even called the social worker during the appointment and told her. Frankie explained that he realizes that we are a good family and he should make it work with us.

He just needs his counselor to work out one thing. He needs her to get him into a new school.

Because you know, we went though a gut wrenching, painful decision about what he needed, what our kids needed, and what we were able to provide. We watched him cycle through manic/hyper/frenzied states. We dealt with him being near-incoherent for hours, complaining that the had to leave here because he was losing too many possessions. We called the police.

We comforted Brian who is now afraid to live with Frankie and told him what we had decided, and Brian sighed with relief.

And I cried and mourned and wondered, "What if?" And so many of you offered me comfort and understood.

We talked to Diane, the agency social worker, who called the state social worker and they decided that he needed a more structured environment and started all the paper work and came up with a plan.

But none of that matters, because Frankie has decided to stay. You know, just so long as his social worker gets him into a new school. He says that his in-school behavior has only been an issue because of the school. If he gets into a new school he won't have any problems there, and that will allow him to work on his behavior at home.

And I stared at him dumbfounded.

Totally dumbfounded.

He can't change schools. It isn't possible. With his recent behavior there is not chance in H. E. double-hockey sticks that any local school will accept him out of the learning center. I mean, it is mind-boggling that he could think he could be having temper tantrums and being defiant in a behavioral school and just transfer out. If he thinks he can, well, he is not in touch with reality.

But then we already suspected that.

We called the social worker to ask her to tell us her version of the conversation. She sighed. She might be as tired as we are at this point. As far as she is concerned we did not make the decision because it is what he wanted. We made it for a whole list of reasons that haven't changed.

She recommends that we allow Frankie to remain deluded for now. He is calm and she sees no point in upsetting him.

But I stopped crying.

I have no idea what will happen next.

I mean, he will be moving, but I don't know if he will get angry and change his mind a couple hundred times over the next few days or if someone will have to tell him. I don't know how he will react if/when someone tells him.

Brian is nervous. He's packed an over-night bag so that if it gets crazy again he can go to a friend's house.

--
By the way, I tried to talk to Frankie about his behavior last night. He says Brian shouldn't be afraid of him, "I'm really just a big ole teddy bear. I only hurt teddy bears! No. I mean I only hurt my own things or myself. I won't hurt him."
"Frankie, what do you think about your behavior last night?"
"Well, banging my fist in the box was excessive. It hurt too!"
"Do you think anything else was excessive?"
"Um...not really."
"How about throwing your things on the floor?"
"I just dropped them! I mean, I dumped them on purpose, but I didn't think they would break!" [He threw them on the floor hard. I was there.]
"Okay, what about tearing apart the cassette player?"
"I didn't mean to break it! I was just trying to get the tape out! I didn't want to break it."
"And everything that happened before that? All the anger over the game?"
"I think I know what to do about that! I think that it just wouldn't save because I had the wrong disk in. If I change it, it won't happen again. But I am sorry for scaring you...and for all the other stuff."
"What other stuff, exactly?"
"Um.... losing the things you gave me?"

9 comments:

  1. Thinking of you.

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  2. I don't even know what to say, other than it is very clear poor Frankie doesn't have much of a grip on reality. I don't think he has any idea just how scary his behavior might be to others, or why people might think he needs to be in a specialized facility.

    The poor boy just has no clue.

    And I'm sorry that you all have to go through this. Hang in there, and until the social worker comes to move him, don't hesitate to have 911 on your speed dial.

    Feel a hug from all of us.

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  3. I'm thinking of you too and my email is always open if you need an ear.

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  4. I am playing devil's advocate here, but is there ANY chance that you could work it out so that Frankie could come back after some intensive treatment??

    What about a day program at a hospital complete with med management, individual therapy, group therapy etc. My son did one of these and it was a lifesaver. Basically he went there during the school day and did all his therapies, role playing, they were able to tweak his med fast because they saw him every day, and he came home at night. It lasted about 12 weeks, but I can honestly say I don't know where my kid would be now if it weren't for that program.

    I am sure you have already thought all of this out, but since I was once in a very similar situation as Frankie, I am really sympathizing with him.

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  5. Are you able to talk to his counselor and get a sense of what on earth went on in there???

    Sorry for the outburst...what I really meant to say was that I am thinking of you.

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  6. Thinking of you. I can't come up with anything helpful to say, except how much I admire you and everything you have done and that you are doing now.

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  7. hang in there! you know how to find me if you need an ear or email, great sympathy. keep the phone and 911 close. be safe!

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  8. Could he get any more bi-p? I mean, honestly?

    At this point, he's like the poster child for it. The saddest thing is, most meds aren't designed for kids, aren't tested for kids, and therapy plans haven't been developed. At this point, in 2007, we just aren't where we need to be in terms of children's mental health treatment.

    And that sucks. Especially for Frankie. And for ya'll. Man that sucks.

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  9. Thinking of you. {{HUGS}}

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