He was in a psychiatric hospital.
Now that I think back, I don’t think we even had any traditional Thanksgiving meal items in the house. We were so gut punched by the reason for and reality of his absence.
If you’ve never had the opportunity to deal with psyche wards, the patients live with regimented schedules and family is only allowed in 1 hour per day, and that only after the patient has been determined to be stabilized.
We went every time we could to see him, including that Thanksgiving Eve.
At some point it turned into a new adventure for him and he seemed to acclimate. My heart and mind never acclimated to him being there. It was a dark, unsettling place. Broken souls and minds were there for care after various traumatic events. I’m still unsettled and teary eyed thinking about that place. It was top flight care, no doubt. It’s simply not a place anyone would choose to hang around. It’s just not the way it should be.
But then Julian’s challenges are not the way things should be; not the way anyone would want it. The developmental delays layered with epilepsy make clear, rational thinking impossible for him. Mix in fear, chemical imbalances, new circumstances and/or the possibility of any physical ache, pain, sickness or fever and any kind of “shoulds” get shifted right out the door.
Six years ago we didn’t know to expect his breakdown. No doctor or caregiver ever mentioned that he’d face that possibility. After the fact, a couple of psychiatrists commented how common his scenario was.
I was angry that no one had ever told us that. I was also, equally embarrassed to not know that. And I was seized by the fear that it would always be that rough.
Today, Thanksgiving Eve 2019, Julian’s already in bed resting rather early. He’s been fighting the head cold congestion thing that mom, brother and cousins have all been sharing. He doesn’t feel great. That lends itself to edginess and quick trigger agitation. It wasn’t a bad day, nothing like six years ago. It just wasn’t a smooth day for him. His level of clear thinking gets hijacked by emotions; outbursts and zoning out can occur. Well, did occur, is the appropriate verb structure.
But it’s past tense; it happened, a little today and a lot back six years ago. He’s happier, stronger and other than the current head cold sniffle fest, he’s so much healthier than that dreadful Thanksgiving.
It was that week six years ago that became the initial nudge toward a greater life change for our whole family. After a return trip to that same hospital under similar circumstances 15 weeks later, Sarah and I felt led to move closer to family. And by the providence of a loving God, we sold one house, bought another and transported ourselves nearer to Grandma and Popa by the summer that year.
Incredible.
God on the move for us.
God in the details for Julian.
Tomorrow Grandma and Popa (my folks) come over for a Thanksgiving feast. Sarah has a fridge full of options and delicacies. It will be a bountiful, yet simple meal. I’m sure there will be stories of prior holidays. We’ll talk about Christmas plans and next semester school plans. We’ll all eat a bit too much. Grandma and Popa will then do what they’ve done nearly every other weekend for 5 plus years now: they’ll take Julian to their house to give him a respite from the routine here and so he can get doted on by Grandma. The flip side of that respite will bless me and Sarah with a weekend to clock out from the 24/7 constant care.
I am truly grateful this Thanksgiving Eve. I’m even grateful for that season six years, for where it has led us to today. I can testify to “the working together all things for good for those who love God”. I couldn’t see it then; we live it now.
Goodness.
Thankfulness.
