What a chaotic life I lead.

Hi Steve,

I have never had a child.  I will never have a child.  I am never going to be anyone's mom.  Ain't NUTHIN' came outta MY twatty-twat-snatch.

But my step-son, Nathan, CALLS me "his only-est mom ever."  (He is 25).  I am 43.  I guess I COULD have had a kid at 18...since we are 18 years apart...but, alas, I was still a virgin then.  I have never been TOLD that I am someone's "only-est mom ever" before.  It kind of stung me in the heart a little bit.  I'm sure his REAL mother would not have appreciated that comment one bit.  But, my theory is, Nathan never got enough mom-love.  His real mom, well, she really didn't have much "mom-ness" about her, and didn't really teach the kids much except how to fend for themselves without much help or guidance from her.  The second woman Pete married (a typical rebound mistake from hell), actually HATED Nathan.

So....compared to THEM, well, I guess in his eyes, I look like an amazing mothering angel.  I don't know the first THING about being a mom.  But, I visited him in the psych ward hospital several times, I spent quality time with him, cheered him up, made him laugh, and tried REAL HARD not to sit there crying my eyes out, knowing how Pete is all shredded up inside over him.  I got him food, something to drink, held his hand, read out loud to him, and talked a lot with him about where he wanted to travel and what he wanted to see when he got there, etc., which Pete and I both know will probably never happen.  We just let him ramble on about everything that was in his head, and like we do with Pete's mom, we just played along with it, no matter how outlandish or far-fetched it was.

Nathan is mostly blind, it happened out of nowhere, and we don't know why.  Now he's in a manic schizophrenic episode, perhaps bipolar in nature, trapped in a psychosis that came outta nowhere also. He's drugged to the max with Lithium, and Atavan.  He's in what they call a "stabilization unit."  That means, if this was caused by DRUG USE, they just pump MORE DRUGS into him to "stabilize" him. That makes absolutely NO SENSE to me at all, and I absolutely ABHOR hospitals and doctors.  So I asked a guy sitting at a computer out in the hallway if I could have an Ace bandage to wrap around Nathan's fractured ankle..."Only if a doctor ordered it."  I stood there and blinked, and said, "His ankle is swollen, and hurts, and he NEEDS an Ace bandage to wrap around it and keep it from getting worse." "Sorry," the guy said, without looking up at me.  I stood there again and blinked a couple of times.  "You mean to tell me, you don't even have a fucking BAND-AID in this place? Really?"  And the guy said, in monotone, "Not unless it is prescribed by a doctor."

Finally I snapped.  In an OH SO VERY NICE VOICE, I said, "Ok, well, then I'll just go out and BUY some band-aids, and bring them with me next time, THANKS SO MUCH."  GRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Did I mention that 20-something's are worthless human beings?  I have YET to be proven wrong.  I would LOVE IT if someone would come along and prove me wrong about it, but alas, to this date, not ONE of them has even tried.  Everywhere I go, I run into a 20-something, who is CLUELESS and IGNORANT, and doesn't know their ass from a hole in the ground.  The guy in the hallway---20 something.  Couldn't even get UP off his DEAD ASS and go to the INFO desk to get a NURSE so that I could ask HER about it, so that she could CALL a doctor to ask HIM about it.....nooooooo.....just gave me the "dead end, bite my ass" routine.  I could spit nails when I run up against that shit.

McDonalds....."I want a sugar-free vanilla coffee, no ice."
"I'm sorry ma'am, what did you order?"
"I want a sugar-free vanilla coffee, with no ice."
"Um....an ICED COFFEE, with NO ICE?"
"Yes. That is what I said."
"Um....I don't know how to ring that up ma'am.  I have to put ice in it."

OH MY GAWD!!!! I AM NOT KIDDING.

I said, gritting my teeth, "Um.....howz about you KEEP the ice, in another cup, for the NEXT person who wants it, and I'll be GLAD to pay for it as a regular ICED coffee. Could you do THAT for me?"

"Um.....I'm not sure.  Let me go ask my supervisor."

SON OF A MOTHER FUCKING HAIRY ASSED BITCH!!!!!

REALLY?!!!
FOR FUCKING REAL??!

I hang my head in sadness at the future of our country.  And everywhere I go, it's the same thing. They ring up an item twice, and goof up the total, and can't even count the change BACK to you, can't do the MATH when you offer them a PENNY to get a DOLLAR back instead of 99 cents....it's ridiculous.  I even have to TELL THEM how to DO THEIR JOBS everywhere I go, which pisses me off even MORE.  Do you ever run into this phenomenon??  Or is it just the lucky East Coast that deals with it?


Ahem.  But I digress.

So....back to Nathan.....there has been NO diagnosis. NO prognosis.  Nobody seems to know what the hell is wrong with him, what caused it to happen, or when he might get better.  Nobody knows ANYTHING except that he's having a psychosis, that may or may not be permanent mental damage of some kind---a breakdown of some sort----and we don't know if he'll EVER be his normal self again.

He's been in that place 10 days so far.  TEN DAYS.  Wasn't a World War II battle against the Nazis somewhere fought and won in less than 10 days??  I could swear I remember reading about it once.  How many days did it take for a man to leave his space ship to walk on the MOON again??

Ten GODDAMNED days, and NOBODY KNOWS ANYTHING.  And yet, the pharmaceutical companies make oodles of money by pumping Lithium and Atavan into my step-son's veins.

My blood pressure is really going to kill me at some point, mark my words.  I know it will.

I told Pete tonight, "Maybe you and I should join the crazy bus with Nathan and your mother. They have it a LOT easier than we do."  He agreed.  Then he gives me that existential bullshit, "What IS crazy, and what IS normal, really?"  I just stuck out my tongue.  That's my standard answer to stupid bullshit questions that have no real concrete answer.  Rhetorical questions are the most wasted AIR on earth.

Anyway, so Pete's got to go BACK again, in 1-2 weeks, (probably 2), when Nathan MIGHT be released.  IF the doctor DEEMS he can be released.  See, we----his PARENTS----don't even have any RIGHTS over Nathan, because he's 25, a grown man, and only his DOCTOR can decide when to let him out of there.  Feeling helpless and on top of THAT being told that we have NO CONTROL over what happens to our KID, really shreds a person inside.  I felt like breaking his window, tying some sheets together, lowering him down to Pete, and kidnapping him out of that place, I was so disgusted.

Apparently I said something to Nathan that changed his entire demeanor.  I told Pete, "We need to TALK to Nathan about what's happening to him, he doesn't even know what the hell's going on, he's like your MOM, and can't make sense out of this...we need to TELL HIM what is happening."  Pete didn't know WHAT to say, so I stepped in.  Nate was shaking his fists in frustration.  This is a kid who is 6 foot 4 inches tall, and nearly 300 pounds.  Size 44 waist, 32 length.  Wears a size 3X t-shirt.  So, you really don't want to piss him off.  So he's shaking his fists, and yelling about how he's going to "sue the doctor if he doesn't let me out of this PRISON!"

So I stopped him and said in a stern voice, "NATHAN HOCH.  Stop it.  Just stop.  I want to tell you something VERY IMPORTANT and need your attention, I need you to FOCUS."  So he stopped, and I said, "You are here because you are having a breakdown. We don't know what is causing this yet, but we are working on it. Your dad and I are talking with doctors, we are trying to get answers. But if you want OUT of here, shaking your fists and yelling about suing the doctor and yelling about being in a prison is NOT going to get you ANYWHERE, you will be STUCK HERE LONGER. Now, you need to BE CALM, breathe deeply, close your eyes, relax, and TRUST that we are ON IT.  We don't want you to be in here any longer than you have to be either, but NOBODY is going to let a huge guy like you OUT when he's waving his fists and screaming. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Now, you're also a huge guy that has a LOT of mileage for medication to travel through your system.  That traveling takes DAYS and sometimes WEEKS before the medication will kick in and start working. Then the doctors have to tweak that dosage, to see if it's better or worse, and THAT takes more time to go through your body and start working. You cannot be let out of here until they find the correct balance of the medications to stabilize you FIRST.  Your grandmother has bipolar, but she's a tiny 90 year old lady who is VERY sensitive to ANY medications---it doesn't take long at all for them to go through HER body. But YOU, it is going to take a lot longer. So what I need for you to do is this, BEHAVE YOURSELF, STAY CALM, DO WHAT THEY TELL YOU TO DO, and TRUST that your father and I are doing everything we can to take the best care of you that we possibly can. We always HAVE, and we always WILL."

He hugged me, and kissed me on the cheek, and started to cry a little.  I said, "Don't cry, Nathan. I know you're in there. I know you're frustrated, you didn't do anything wrong. You are NOT being punished. You are having a breakdown, you're sick right now, and we're trying to HELP you. You did nothing wrong. You are NOT being punished. This is what has to happen to make you well again. Do you understand?"  He nodded and cried a little more.

Pete was blown away by that.  He cried on my shoulder later that evening, which he has never done since the day I met him.  Not once.  He's choked up a few times, sure, when he proposed to me, when he tells me he loves me sometimes, he catches a tear....stuff like that....but, THIS....well, this was pure and total emotional exhaustion, not to mention physical exhaustion from being on the go, and stressed out and trying to do EVERYTHING HIMSELF.  He is, after all, a Dominant man.  He's in charge.  He is in control.  But this situation----he has no control of anything, and that is the scariest thing he's ever known.

I held him, I caressed his hair, I told him Nathan will be okay, he's got the resilience of youth on his side, and if God puts him through THIS test at THIS age, then once he gets through it, with our help, he will be able to get through anything God throws at him for the rest of his life.  If THIS is his worst possible time in 80 years of life, he's got nothing but GOOD things in store.  He is in the BEST place he can be, he's got the BEST family he can have, and we will work hard to make sure he gets WELL. You're doing all that you can. He knows that. Your kids all know that. You need to take care of YOU, first and foremost, and you need SLEEP."  He cried a little more, and said through his tears, "What if my Nathan never comes back? What if I never get my son back?"

I said, (near tears myself...my heart was breaking)....."We will.  He's in there.  We'll get him back."

But honestly, I don't know what is going to happen to that boy.  We are all worried sick.

So then we arrive back in Pittsburgh, at home, at 9:30 p.m. last night, only to find that the two mom's have had a tussle, Flo punched my mom in the face several times, my mom smacked her on her ass, the two of them physically fought and yelled and had a very horrible night---a half hour before we arrived. So I had to spend an hour talking to my mom and letting her "vent," while Pete went upstairs and tried to get himself prepared for work today, reading work-related emails, opening mail, etc., and Florence was sound asleep.

We were in a hotel where 20-something's were roaming the hallways talking at the top of their lungs, into cell phones, F-words everywhere, yelling, laughing, stomping their feet running down the hall, acting like SECOND GRADERS on a field trip to a ZOO.  I called the front desk numerous times, to complain, but 3 out of 4 nights that we stayed there, we got very little sleep, or very CRAPPY sleep.  So we were both past the point of exhaustion, taking 5 hour energy drinks and diet coke for caffeine, and SUGAR-FREE VANILLA ICED COFFEE's (or "liquid CRACK" as I like to call it), just to stay awake and alert, to get us home.  It's a 4.5 hour drive, one-way.

So today I had to play "referee" between the two mom's, mine stayed down in her basement all day, refusing to go near Florence, and of course, Florence completely oblivious to the whole thing because SHE FORGOT ALL ABOUT IT....which I TOLD my mom she would.....but I decided to just talk to her about it anyway---and she was hoping I wouldn't bring it up....so she really DID remember it, and told me that she felt "like being obstinate."  I said, "Well, punching my mother in the face, or anybody ELSE in this house, for ANY reason, is UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR, and if you do it EVER AGAIN, Florence, you will leave my house. You will no longer be allowed to live here anymore. Do you understand what I am saying? You will be put into a nursing home."

......Becky don't play.  Oh no she don't.  She mess yo' ass UP.  Even if you're 90 and got Alzheimers.

I said to her, "You DO know right from wrong, don't you Flo?"  "Well yes, of course..."  I said, "Good, then you can NEVER tell me that you didn't know what you were doing, because we both know damned well that you DO.  And you can't LIE to me about it, either, because, like your MOTHER, I am aware of EVERYTHING that goes on in this house at all times. I know when you're lying, I know when you're being obstinate, I know when you're being a bratty teen-ager.  If you were being punched, Flo, by someone in your house, would YOU let them live in your house anymore?"  "......No."

"Okay, then, I want you to tell me what is going to happen if you ever punch anybody again."

"I'll have to leave."

"You got it.  Any questions?"

".....no."

So my whole entire day was spent trying to cheer my mom up, pep talk her into letting it go, taking her to lunch, letting her vent, listening, hugging her, and just nodding and smiling when she needed it.  Then the other half of my day was talking to Flo about being an Alzheimers patient, having dementia, and being completely confused and frustrated and feeling scared---and how we all understand that, but starting to be violent with someone is NOT the answer, and will NOT be tolerated.

She's slowly sliding into stage 3.  Combativeness, anger, frustration, lack of cooperation, brattiness, etc. This is the stage where most families cannot handle it anymore, and put their loved ones in a home.  That is where we sit, right now.

Well, I have to go for now.  Any time you feel like flying over here to take me away for awhile, you just show up and I'll be packed and waiting.

Love, Rebecca