Josiah was sent home from the ER after spending 2 sedated hours sleeping there.  A Crisis Intervention Team arrived at our house a few hours later.  I had hoped they would provide a solution.  They were kind and compassionate, took lots of information and said basically there was nothing they could do.  Josiah was mildly bouncy and slightly agitated while they were here.

Later that same afternoon, after more pleas for help, Josiah’s psychiatrist called to say he wanted us to take Josiah to a different hospital.  Both he and Josiah’s pediatrician were very concerned about him.  They wanted various tests to be done to rule out anything medically that might be causing such violent outbursts. Since he’s non verbal, he is not able to tell us if something hurts or he doesn’t feel well.  I didn’t think there was anything physically wrong with my son, but getting him to a hospital where he could hopefully receive some help made sense.

Josiah spent 8 days in that hospital.  The first few days were rough.  Rick, Josiah’s amazing caregiver, Ashley, and I took turns hanging out with our boy. He needed someone there with him at all times. One evening, shortly after arriving for my shift, I snuggled in bed with Josiah.  He was so calm and sweet. He put his arm under my head and pulled me in close.  For the first time in a while I felt like I had my boy back.  Then very quickly I realized I was wrong.

Josiah needed to go into the bathroom.  He willingly complied with getting out of bed and into the bathroom.  I removed his urine guard from the commode when he was finished and tossed it in the sink with running water to clean it off.  Josiah jumped off the toilet, grabbed it out of the sink, threw it on the floor and started jumping in the spilled water.  In an instant his mood was no longer peaceful.  He was ‘wild’ and out of control.  I quickly buzzed for a nurse and said I needed help.

I got Josiah back to his bed but as I was helping him in, he turned and pushed me towards the couch. I tried to stand as both his hands reached for my hair.  Though pulled back into a pony tail, Josiah managed to wrap his fingers around the hair at the top of my head and pull with all his might.  I pushed the button for the nurse again, hollering for help. Josiah pushed his foot against my head, pushing me away from him, while simultaneously pulling my hair towards him.  The pain was intense.  I started to scream.  A male nurse came running to help untangle Josiah from my hair. It wasn’t working.  He had a death grip on me and was bouncing wildly. I remember screaming, PLEASE GET HIM OFF OF ME over and over again. More help arrived.  It took 3 nurses to free me from his grip.

I ran into the bathroom to calm down, splashed water on my face and tried to make sense of what had just happened.  I made sure the door was closed. Moments later, Josiah broke free from the male nurse, barged through the door and lunged at me again.

That was it for me.  My shift was over.  I got out of his room as quickly as I could and stood sobbing in the hallway.  I recall hearing the words STAT repeatedly and ‘we can’t have this kind of patient here’, ‘we can’t handle this kind of patient’ coming from the nurses station as I made my way to safety.  Dr’s, Nurses and even 2 Police Officers came rushing over to see if I was alright.  One of the officers asked if I was his mother and did my son need to be handcuffed.  It was all so surreal.   My sweet little Josiah was very quickly becoming someone I didn’t recognize anymore.

And the saddest part?  For the very first time, I was afraid of my own child.