Saturday, April 05, 2014

Not Quite Out Of The Woods

There is always a reality check for me when I let go of things too much. My day yesterday was about planning my trip with my mom to Vegas. It blossomed into a trip that would include two of my very good friends for a night or two. I was so excited thinking about all of the fun that we would have there.

Then as my evening began I took Thomas to work. He went there feeling really good, another success under his belt. He went there with no lorazepam and with a positive attitude and there was promise for a good night ahead for him.

I came home and sat down to watch some TV and within less than an hour my phone rang and it was Thomas. He sounded like hell. I instantly felt terrible for him. He asked me if I could come pick him up and I quickly agreed but then thought of his decent health lately and I called him back. I asked him if instead he would like me to bring him a lorazepam and he could take it and try to make it through the rest of his shift and he told me no and practically begged for me to come get him.

I was there in 5 minutes and what I saw walking out of the store was someone who looked like they had fought a huge battle and lost. He got in the car and I tried so hard not to start questioning him. I wanted to continue to practice my backing off that I have done lately but I looked at him and he was white as a sheet and could barely speak. What had happened was that the store got very crowded and he had what sounds to me like a panic attack and he said he had almost vomited twice. Well, he definitely looked like someone about to be sick. I told him to roll his window down and try to get some air and he stiffly adjusted himself in his seat and rolled the window down. I looked over at him and I could see how much he was struggling. He was sweating a little and pale so I reached over and felt his head thinking he might have a fever. He was a little warm but seemed fine otherwise.

Then I couldn't help myself, I had to know what his anxiety level was at. When he told me he was a 6/10 I was taken aback. How had he gone from fine to a 6? He's been doing so good lately! Well, apparently the crowd felt huge to him and he felt trapped and with nausea added to the equation now that he had reached a 6, he was really suffering. He barely spoke on the way home except to answer a couple of my questions and he sat there beside me appearing very beaten down to me. I turned to him, squeezed his leg and said, "I am so sorry kiddo that you have to deal with this." I wanted to cry. I have been where he is now, plagued by serious anxiety, and I knew just what he was feeling. To me there is little of the garden variety mental illnesses that compare to serious anxiety. For me personally, I can deal with my bipolar issues but when anxiety enters the equation I am down for the count in a big way. Like his therapist says, "anxiety can be a bully" and most certainly for Thomas last night, that nasty bully had won this battle.

My poor kid, why can't he get a moment's peace where work is concerned? I have, since last night, thought of a new plan for him. Instead of leaving work, maybe he ought to try just excusing himself from the sales floor and going in the back and taking a break for a little bit to calm down. Perhaps that's an option for him? I don't know but I want to see him feel successful and feel like he is in control of his anxiety.

So, poor Thomas had a very rough night and consequently my plans for Vegas go on the back burner for a bit. The truth is, I would give up my trip to insure that he is ok and can get through a day and count it a successful one. Perhaps he's not far enough into his "healthy phase" for me to plan on leaving him. He is awfully new to it and I realized last night that he will have withdrawal symptoms from leaving the clozaril behind so maybe it'll be a while before big changes like vacations for me happen. I am ok with that. My one and only desire is to see Thomas be successful at living his life. The rest is just fluff and frivolity on my part.

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