Monday, January 13, 2014

Here We Are Again

I know. I know so many of you are going through the same thing but oh my gosh this is just not easy. I'm in the weirdest place in my opinion because I feel quite powerless to change things for Thomas and all I want to do is everything to make him better, bring him back to the kid I knew a few weeks ago.

Yesterday was a particularly rough day for him. Thankfully he sleeps in quite late but he woke with one of his bloody noses. I don't know why I walked into his room yesterday morning but when I did I found him leaned over the trash trying to stop a bloody nose that literally looked like water coming out of a faucet, only it was blood. A lot of blood. I sat down beside him while he rolled up some Kleenex to put in his nose as a plug to stop the bleeding and I rubbed his back. I said so many things to him but mostly just told him that I wished I could make all of this, all of the things he's having to go through go away. He sat there holding the trash can in his lap staring at a fixed point in front of him and he looked so mad. He gets in these zones where he seems to check out and go somewhere else in his mind and I sat there in silence with him for a while and then he asked me to leave him alone. I left him sitting there lost in his world with his trash can on his lap looking so beaten down.

He's completely lost his appetite lately too so I shored myself up to try to find a clever way to get food in to him. I could tell by his attitude that wasn't going to happen so I went outside to see my husband and I told him all that had gone on in the short time Thomas had been awake. We talked for a bit about how Thomas has been doing and we agreed that he was really struggling. My husband went in the house to use the bathroom and when he came out he peeked into the living room and very casually said to Thomas,

"Hey, there are 4 tacos left over from my dinner last night so if you want one of those you are welcome to them."

Thomas jumped on that and said that he would like one. I was overjoyed. So then I casually looked in the living room and asked him if I could pour him something to drink with that and he agreed. I went into the kitchen and took a chance trying to add something healthy to his meal he was building and I casually cut up a green apple and set it next to the taco I had taken from the fridge. He said nothing and took everything in to the living room to eat. Somehow, thanks to my husband, I got some nutrition into Thomas and I felt like I could breathe a sigh of relief.

As the day wore on Thomas seemed lost to me and he looked like hell. As work time for him was nearing I looked over at him and noticed that his hair was out of place. I went to him and asked him if I could fix that spot and he agreed and when I touched his hair it was so greasy and gross and I remembered that he hadn't showered in days. This has become a pattern again with him. Over a week ago he had started not showering and managed to get it together to shower for his visit with the psychiatrist but since then has not taken another one. In the car on the way to work I noticed that he didn't smell very good and I prayed his employers wouldn't notice. Also in the car he was filled with his now very typical anxiety that accompanies him being anywhere that he feels he needs to be on time to. He had taken an anti-anxiety pill and it wasn't touching the anxiety at all. He got out of the car at work and when I told him to have a good night at work he said that he would try to and he walked into the store with his posture that I've come to recognize as his "schizophrenic posture" where he walks hunched over and not moving his upper body and arms as he walked. It's such a striking way of walking because he just LOOKS like someone who isn't well.

When I picked him up at work he reported that his anxiety had been a 6 out of 10 and he said that he had been nauseated for most of his evening and he began to blame the nausea on the anti-anxiety pill. I explained to him that he had never had a problem with it causing anxiety in the past and that it was the anxiety itself that would cause the nausea and he argued with me that it was the pill. There he was, yet again, working on a new delusion. When things need an explanation that he doesn't have an immediate explanation for, he begins to make things up in order to make what is happening make sense. I know these are delusion formations because I've seen it happen a hundred times before and had to unwind them, most times without success. I needed him to continue to feel like the anti-anxiety pill is a positive thing because the alternative is something I just don't want to have happen. Without that pill, he won't be able to work at all, without that pill he won't get through difficult nights alone in his room when the walls are closing in, hallucinations rear their ugly head and he is scared to death.

It's funny, as I write this it might seem like nothing, all of this may not seem like something but as the day came to a close and I looked back on it all, all I could see was that Thomas is getting worse. He admits that he's getting worse, he says he doesn't think the clozaril is working and he's miserable with anxiety. My plan for the day is to call his psychiatrist and let him know what's going on. We aren't supposed to see him for 2 weeks and right now that seems like forever to me. Thomas can't go on like this much longer and I'm getting tired of picking up the pieces of my shattered heart.

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