Move to the First PCH and Third Hospital Admittance

This post is the next in my series of Recollections about my son, DS, who was diagnosed with schizoaffective order in the summer of 2007. My son’s second hospitalization ended on July 24th, 2007. I brought him home and we began to prepare for his move to a personal care home I had found which was located about thirty minutes away in Marietta, GA. On the night before DS moved (July 28th), he did not sleep much, I believe. He was trying to decide what to bring and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning as he was going along, of course. He has never lived away from home before, even for college, so this move was stressful for him. On the morning of the 28th, he was very agitated and upset. He was saying he wanted to go back to the hospital. That did not make any sense because he hated and feared the hospital.

black and white trianges

photo by silentvale 

When we got to the personal care home—I will abbreviate its name as AM—he was calm enough. They had told us in advance that check-in would take two hours and they were right about that. They had a plethora of paperwork for us to do. I remember DS sitting on the couch next to me, looking very drowsy through it all. They gave him a room with no roommate, though no guarantees that it would remain that way since all the rooms had two beds. His bedroom had a doorway adjoining a bathroom that passed through to another bedroom where two other men stayed.

I helped him to unpack and we had to make an inventory of every item he brought. In theory that sounds like a good idea, but in reality, over the course of the next few weeks we were bringing stuff in and taking some stuff out, and there never seemed to be a staff person available to bother with updating the inventory sheet. He wanted to bring his computer, even though there were no guarantees about being able to get it hooked up to the internet. That was an issue that MG said she would look into, but she had not yet. With the computer desk it was just too much for me to be bothered with that day. I told him we would try to get it to him in a week or two when I could get his grandfather (my dad) to help.

There was one ironic thing that happened. The home manager, MG, had brought her grandchildren with her to work that day. One grandchild was a two-year old little boy who wandered into the bedroom as we were unpacking. I could tell his presence was making DS anxious, either because to DS’s mind the child was not clean enough, or the room was not clean enough and the child was touching things in the room. One of the reasons I was putting DS in a personal care home was to get him away from his two and one-half year old brother. I gently nudged MG’s grandson out into the hall telling him, “go find grandma,” and shut the door behind him.

After the unpacking was done, DS had to submit to a visual inspection of his undressed body, performed by PL, who is the 27-year old son to MG and father of the aforementioned children. (That probably explains, too, why the children were there. Their father had to bring them along because their mother was working.) The reason for the inspection was so that any bruises, injuries, or whatever could be noted and documented in the paperwork. I began to piece together that AM was a family business. MG was the home manager, her mother was the owner and her son worked there as staff from time to time. They had at least a half dozen different staff people that worked there at one time or another that I saw, but usually when I dropped in I only saw one staff person in the home at a time.

I left instructions that DS was to go to a hospital outpatient program called OCS (Outpatient Counseling Services at Windy Hill in Marietta) and they had transportation to pick him up. They said they would be sure to wake him up early enough to be ready and they did. The program was five days a week. I was told by people at the hospital (Wellstar Behavioral Health) that it was an excellent program for people newly discharged.

It was on a Saturday when DS moved into his personal care home, AM. On Monday, his father and I, and his five-year old sister and two and one-half year old brother got in the car to make a trip to Florida to visit my husband’s mother and sister’s family. It had been a long time since we had visited them, but it was not easy for me to leave town since I was worried about DS. We had planned this trip for a long time because my husband had some work scheduled off then. We planned to return on Thursday because the five-year old had a kindergarten open house on Friday. I got a telephone call from DS about once a day. Although he had made some improvement at the time of his most recent discharge from the hospital he was reporting that there were drugs all over the chairs at OCS and there were gangs outside of AM making gang signals. He did not feel safe. These were his typical delusions that he was having at the time of his first two hospitalizations.

Wednesday night around 10 p.m. I received a telephone call from MG, the manager of AM. She said DS was on his way to the emergency room. She told me the following story. DS had also told her that he was not feeling safe. She understood what was going on and offered to drive him to the emergency room. They got in her car and were driving down the road when he began to vomit. She pulled over to the side of the road. He got out of her car and when he finished, he took off running between some houses and trees and disappeared quickly. She called the police. When they arrived she answered all their questions and asked them, “please can I go now to look for him.” She said she “felt for DS” like her own son, because she has a son the same age. While she was talking to the police they received a radio report that DS was found. Apparently he had stopped at some house to ask for assistance and they had called 911 for him. For anyone keeping count, (I am) that made DS’s fifth encounter with police or emergency personnel for the summer.

We were planning our return home on Thursday morning (August 2nd) anyway, so there was no need to change our travel plans.

Explore posts in the same categories: In Hospital, Mental Illness, People Who Help, Places to Live, Recollections

One Comment on “Move to the First PCH and Third Hospital Admittance”

  1. Mental Hero » Blog Archive » Creative Hospital Discharging of the Mentally Ill Says:

    […] son DS in 2007, who has been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. As I began to explain in my Third Hospital Admittance post, my son was hospitalized for third time in three months last summer on August 1st, […]

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