None of Your Business???

In listening to the news accounts of the Tucson shooter, I am confounded by the very difficult position faced by those who were close enough to know something was just not right with this kid. As one who lives with a disabled adult, I face much more minor issues daily about what is my business and what is Walker’s business, and just what to do when I feel the need to intrude into his “space”.

I finally decided that Walker is indeed an adult, but since he lacks the ability to manage some parts of his life the way most adults do (manage his medical needs, pay bills, drive) he doesn’t exactly have full decision making power. I feel lucky that reasoning usually works with him, and when it doesn’t bribes or threats do. He is pretty much a model citizen at home because I made it clear to him during one unpleasant episode years ago that living with us is a privilege. I suppose the idea of getting kicked out was enough to assure compliance with a few household rules, because there has never been another really serious episode.

I realize, though, that mental illness is not as easy to predict as mental retardation, so we’re kind of comparing apples and oranges.

Schizophrenia is a particularly insidious disease because it usually doesn’t manifest clearly until late adolescence or early adulthood, although there may have been earlier behavioral indicators that were ignored or explained away. It must be terribly baffling to watch an adolescent veer off into insanity just at the time you expect him to be maturing and moving into independence.

 Walker’s friend Steffan is a living example to him of what happens when your offenses toward your family are serious enough to get you kicked out of the house…although the social workers involved would probably call Steffen’s alternative living arrangements a “plan of care to assure the well being of Steffan and his family”.

Steffan doesn’t appear to be a dangerous sort, most schizophrenics are not, but his mother stated that he was a threat to her safety when she had him arrested and committed into state custody. I welcome him into my home periodically because he seems to understand the importance of his meds and is conscientious about taking them and his behavior has always been exemplary.

 But what if he weren’t? What if I noticed him deteriorating as I did several years ago when he let his hair grow matted and unwashed for months? Should I respect his right to have control of his appearance, assuming that he simply wants to fit in as he hangs around backstage at concerts, hoping to be given some access to rock stars? . What if his suspicious nature escalated into a manifestation of true paranoia? What if some of the stuff he accumulates indicated an unnatural interest in occult matters? What if he purchased a gun?

 You’d better believe I’d get involved. I’d contact someone in the tree of providers that provide his services and give them some evidence to support my hunch that something is amiss. I’m not sure anyone would listen as HIPPA laws might even prevent them from acknowledging that Steffan is a client, but I would know I’d done all I could.

 According to Dr. E. Fuller Torrey, author of “The Insanity Offense” about 1 per cent of mentally ill individuals are violent and that half the rampage murders in the United States are commited by that population.

I hope that next shooter can be stopped by some friend or family member or acquaintance who isn’t too worried about whose business it is. Safety in public places is all our business.

 Perhaps a public awareness campaign of the early signs of mental illness accompanied by an action plan to give those around the subject some idea of what to do could make life happier and safer for all of us, including the mentally ill.

Until then, perhaps we’ll all be a little less polite about minding our own business and think carefully about whether odd behavior constitutes a warning sign.

 Blessings,
Janie

Belated Gifts

After several attempts, we managed to link up with Steffen this afternoon. He had persisted about calling Walker trying to make a date to go to a movie and exchange gifts. Walker was not feeling particularly generous this year and had only bought Steffen one of those musical cards. I added a gift card for movies and a little cash to it.

Steffen had bought Walker two movies from his limited income, but Walker was a bit less than gracious about them. They weren’t on his wish list. Of course this became a teaching opportunity on how to show appreciation on the way home.

As I drove them to the movie I asked Steffen about his family and found out that he had had no contact from his mother since about a week before Christmas, and that his sister “ran out of time and didn’t make it” to see him either. I believe he spent Christmas alone and didn’t get a gift from either. “It’s okay, ‘cause I have enough money to buy little things anyway,” he explained to me.

After the movie we talked a bit more about Christmas and he pointed out that a couple of years ago his mother had taught him to be grateful he had a roof over his head. He had remembered that comment this year when he was tempted to feel sorry for himself. One of his friends was having trouble finding a place to live because she’s schizophrenic and at least he had a roof over his head.

I wish I had gotten Steffan a real gift and made sure he had it on Christmas Day. It probably would have meant more to me than to him, and it wouldn’t have made his mother’s ignoring him hurt any less, but I would have felt less guilty when I heard his story. I’m glad I made the effort to take him to a movie and plan to do it more often this year.

I’m going to be glad I have a roof over my head next time I’m feeling sorry for myself too.

Blessings,
Janie

One is Silver and the Other Gold

In the excitement of starting this blog, I sent a link to everyone I know, hoping that they would help in getting the word out to anyone they know who might find it interesting or helpful. This process led to some affirming e-mails and even a long-distance phone call...in the morning! (For those of you who grew up before the days of unlimited free calling, this was a big event.)

Florence called, because in my haste to get the information out, I had made a typo in the web address, and she couldn't open it. She's the kind of friend that would go to the trouble to call me and find out how to access what's going on in my life. As I walked her through the process and we opened the page together, with the correct address this time.

I realized that friendship is something that I treasure above most anything except family, and that this is one area where Walker doesn't follow the expected patterns. Or does he?

Walker has one "best" friend. His name is Steffen and he and Walker rode the school bus together for several years. They were always the last kids dropped off every afternoon, and Steffen was attentive and kind to Walker. The first time I met him, he and his mom came by our house with a Christmas gift for Walker, the first one he had ever gotten from anyone other than the "Secret Santa" things at school or family and godparents remembering his birthday and Christmas.

When Steffen turned sixteen, he got a driver's license, and began to stop at our house for a visit sometimes. Eventually, I hired him on occasion to drive Walker to something I couldn't handle for one reason or another. Then one day, I realized that we hadn't seen or heard from Steffen for quite some time.

By this time, Walker had graduated from high school, and Steffen had kind of outgrown him. So I assumed it would be just like it had always been with the kids in our neighborhoods, when they outgrew Walker, we just kind of never saw them again. I realized the sadness of this when I put Walker in a high school Sunday School class, mainly because there was no real place he belonged. The adult classes were entirely too cerebral for him. The kids he had know all his life at church and in the neighborhood were nice enough, but eventually they graduated and he was left alone to make new friends with the next batch of ninth graders.

Eventually, I ran into Steffen's mom in the parking lot at the grocery store. When I asked about him, she seemed uncomfortable, but finally told me that Steffen had been admitted to a mental health facility. I didn't know at the time that a seemingly normal, bright youngster could become mentally ill and be diagnosed in his teens.

Months after that episode, we returned from a vacation to find a large number of messages from "an inmate at the county jail", which had we answered, we would have been charged a substantial fee. After puzzling over this for a day or so, it finally dawned on me that it could be Steffen. I called his mom, who eventually explained the circumstances, and was so angry with him that she wouldn't make his bail "if it was only two dollars, not two thousand". I was stunned, to say the very least. The Shelby County Jail is a terrible place. I had feared for my safety the one time I had entered the building adjoining it to contest a parking ticket. This was no place for a skinny adolescent from a nice neighborhood.

I eventually screwed up my courage, and made Steffen a visit. He had been charged with some sort of assualt against his mom, and to my knowledge, it entailed simply slamming the door in her face. I don't have any idea how bad things must have gotten for his mom to handle this by calling the police, but that's what she did. At the time, the mental health facilities that would have normally admitted Steffen and given his mom some respite from their conflictual relationship were overcrowded, and weren't accepting new admissions. He had been stuck at the jail for several weeks just awaiting a hearing. Somehow, I made the connections that were necessary to testify at that hearing, and Steffen was sent to a mental health facility for a thirty day evaluation. In the meantime, I worked on finding a suitable place for him to live upon realease, either from the facility or from jail.

When he called to let me know that he was about to be moved back to jail awaiting a second hearing, it was a holiday weekend. The thought of Steffen being placed in the jail again, even for a few days, was unbearable. So, I had my first, and only experience with a bail bondsman. Steffen was released to a facility that helped him manage his medications and learn some independent living skills. Through it all, Walker remaind his friend and champion.

Steffen eventually moved to an apartment, and manages well independently. He uses a computer to research movies and other entertainment opportunities for Walker and him to attend. We only see him only a couple of times a month, but given the choice of who to go out with, Walker always chooses Steffen.

This leads me back to the whole driving thing. Neither Walker nor Steffen drive. They can't do the things that young adults do, because they are dependent on their parents to pick up and deliver them, just like kids in junior high. Steffen has made a few friends in some of his mental health groups, and I think he has somewhat of a social life and includes Walker a bit occasionally, but mostly Walker has to make sure we're willing to provide the transportation.

I hope that someday Walker will someday have the freedom to pursue friendships freely, invite a friend out for a movie or dinner, and not have to seek our permission. Now that would be a blessing.

Friendship to all, Janie