Tag Archives: adoption

Houdini Part V. – a Six Year Update

Hard to believe it has been six years since I wrote the Houdini/Ronald McDonald posts. You can find the first in the series here.  By and large I have been living life. In fact, most of the last six years are documented within the pages of this site. There has been a lot of advocacy work. Learning new things, adapting our parenting style to our sons needs. But life does move on.

Houdini – aka the birth father

In the time that has passed, we have lost the birth father.  He died alone. There was no obituary. There was no funeral. It is a sad end to a life. Every life deserves to be celebrated. He was such a “bad” man that no one in the family even knew he died. He has been gone almost 18 months now, and I realize that I have no feelings one way or the other.

Thru the use of ancestry tools, I have tracked some of my bio siblings down. Well, not so much tracked, as that seems rather stalker-like. Let’s say we connected. Lost a couple of them to cancer. Discovered that the family genetics include abnormal liver function, which explains the abnormal liver panels I have had for most of my life. Beyond that, in regards to the birth family, there isn’t much else to say. I don’t have a picture of him, so will use the photo of Houdini instead.

The Uncle

The uncle that I wrote about, you know the one I helped put in jail. He was sick for most of the last five years. Pancreatic cancer because of Agent Orange. I spent as much time with him as I could the last months of his life. We were able to make amends, and apologize to each other for the things we did and didn’t do. It was healing. He passed on in November of 2017.

On being a grandparent

In December I became a grandfather for the first time. Cute little boy. I am not ready to share that part of life with anyone. He deserves as normal a life as he can have. But he is a cute little man who stole his grandpa’s heart.

Marriage and family

My wife and I are coming up on 24 years of marriage. Hard to believe, those two kids – a family. A life together.

I continue to be disabled. My body doesn’t cooperate for very long when I try to work, so I just do the advocacy work for the mental ill as much as I can.  It’s not much, but it helps me to feel useful. It’s not the same as an actual job, in some ways it is much more draining, much more rewarding and it gives me purpose.

Words of Wisdom

I don’t have any words of wisdom to share. Mom and I are working on a relationship, and for the most part, it is going very well. We understand that we need time away from contact, and that a good thing for us is the distance between our homes. We talk often. I see her when I can, in fact, Dad and I surprised her for her recent birthday by driving up and having lunch with her and my sisters family. It was a very nice visit and day.

Until next time. I hope you have a great day. Try to mend relationships with family when you can. It’s worth it.

The unfinished quilt top: unraveling threads

Unfinished quilt tops.

Loose fabric, pieced together.  seams resewn to strengthen the final product.  adjustments, another persons eye to style and color.  A work in progress. 

I have been told, I have broad shoulders to carry the burden of David’s care. To these people I say:  I am just a dad.  A sewer, striving to finish his quilt.  That is all, nothing more.

I strive to save the lovingly hand stitched aspect of the quilt top while ensuring it won’t fall apart upon the first washing.Life lessons.  Spools of thread.

Simple things the second.  Complex thoughts on the first.

I was thinking about a sewing project I have been trying to find time to work on.  I am finishing a quilt.  I purchased an unfinished quilt top at auction and am working to finish.  Just haven’t been able to make time to sit down and tackle it.  Not to mention the stack of patching, hemming and repairs that are sitting in my sewing area.

In thinking about the similarities between the spool of thread on my sewing machines, and David’s care I am struck by one thing.  It seems like the harder I pull on that small thread, the faster things unravel.  We have built a team of professionals around his needs to allow him to receive the best care possible.  Yet.  I feel like his care is like that unfinished quilt top.

How do I move beyond where we are with his care and onto more productive, and a more supportive care plan that is wrapped around him like a quilt? That doesn’t just protect him from the cold harsh realities of life, but offers a warming protection against those same realities.  Because, truly, right now I would have to agree with a former team member and say that eventually he will just end up in prison.

Prison is not a place to go to get mental health services.

I can talk to people until I lose my voice.  But they really don’t get the struggle that is David’s life.  They don’t get that, much like the needle on my sewing machine, if it breaks, you replace the needle, you don’t throw away the whole machine and start over.  You don’t continue sewing with the same needle, hoping for positive results.

You change the needle.

If it breaks again, then you consider your thread. Or adjust thread tension.

unfinished quilt tops: unraveled threads

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/241294492510022573/

If you continue to do the same thing over and over again without adapting to the fabric you are working with, all that you will experience is frustration.

As we strive to move forward with David’s care, we bring together varying professionals, much like fabric scraps used to make a quilt.  Sometimes, one scrap will work better with the rest of the top than another.  Same with professionals.  If one part of the team that is David’s “quilt top” isn’t working, we need to open the seam and change that piece out.

David’s world has unraveled.  We can try to rewind the spool of thread that is his world, rebuild the quilt top with the right pieces, and wrap him with a finished quilt that can support him for a long time to come.

Barriers exist in the mental health system that bar our success in finishing the first quilt.  In a few years, he will be an adult in the eyes of the law, while remaining a preteen mentally and emotionally.  At that point, he will be needing a new quilt.

Ask any quilter or sewer.

A quilt is a work in progress.  Eventually it might be labeled as finished, but throughout it’s life, it will periodically need care.

I have been told, I have broad shoulders to carry the burden of David’s care. To these people I say:  I am just a dad.  A sewer, striving to finish his quilt.  That is all, nothing more.

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A sad reality – restraint of a mentally ill child

It’s a sad reality.  Our son David is mentally ill.

I know it’s been a while since I last posted.  So much has happened.

On Feb 3, as I was driving into the city for a medical appointment, I received a call from the facility where David was.

“If you don’t come and get him by 1pm, you will be charged with abandonment.”  said the Clinical Director.

I tried to explain that I was on my way to a medical appointment, 100 miles south of the facility. I explained that I had made arrangements to pick him up at 4pm.  Not good enough.

I was given the ultimatum, either pick up your son by 1pm, or be charged.  As a result, I cancelled my appointment, turned around and went to pick him up.

You see, he is well.  Or so they believed.  That’s why his peers want to kill him.

That’s also why his school wants him to be escorted from one class to the next.

Things happened that I can’t talk about yet.

Except the most recent event.  We began to notice a decline in his mental state.   He was refusing to cooperate, refusing to go to class, many many things.  This weekend, things came to a head.
On Monday, he spent nearly 4 hours at school sitting in a room staring at the wall.  Absolutely refusing to do anything.  He didn’t talk, he didn’t eat, he didn’t use the bathroom.  When he got home, he had a snack and we talked about his day.  He was fairly calm.

Suppertime.  We had Mexican food.  Something he loves.

He refused to eat it.  Wanted breakfast cereal.  We try to remain consistent as much as possible so told him either he eats what we made, or he doesn’t eat supper.    He left the table.

We didn’t push it.  A bit later, he became argumentative over the word please.  “You don’t say please,” he stated.

So we started saying please.  He didn’t like that.

He brings home a daily report card from school.  As the evening progressed, and began to decline in mental state, he stood up, shredded that paper and threw it all over the living room.

Mom stood up, approached him, and asked him “Please, pick up all of this paper.”

He was about two feet from her.  Punched her in the chest hard enough to rock her back a step.  He then tore off and went outside.

As I followed at a small distance, he began screaming racial slurs at me.  We don’t speak like he was speaking, and we don’t allow him to either.  He said “keep your nigger bitch away from me.”  and a bit later “keep your fat nigger ass away before I kick it.”

We find the N word to be derogatory.  I don’t like it.  Mom and I are Caucasians.

It was not our son that was screaming those words.  I don’t know who it was.

So we followed the care plan. We called 911.  Within minutes we had Deputies at our house.  Two of them.

Ultimately, he was charged domestic assault.  He was taken away to juvenile detention for safety.  He was taken away in restraints and waist chains. We have been to court twice.  Yesterday we were given 24 hours to find an attorney for him.  Today, he didn’t contest the assault charge and has been held over for 14 days.

It was incredibly difficult for us to tell them that we would not take him home.  It’s not safe.  It’s not safe for us, our family and I would argue our community. Yesterday, the deputy who was transporting him, asked him if he wanted to talk to us for a couple of minutes before they went back to detention.

“No.”  David replied quietly.

So the deputy put the handcuffs on him, buckled up the waist restraint, leaving enough in the back to use as a handle should it become necessary to physically handle our son. They put him in the back seat of the car and hauled him away.

All I really want to do is wrap my arms around him and tell him everything will be okay.

Jail is no place to treat the mentally ill for their conditions.

Update:

We will be back in court on April 4.

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