We we late taking Michael to the psychiatrist today. Ruthie decided to run away. I offered to pack her bag but she wasn't interested. She got quite far down our road and the kids kept an eye on her for me. If I follow her, she will run faster. If I let them watch her, she turns around to be sure they are watching and makes faces at them. They don't care about the faces. It is sad this happens so often that we are all calm, cool ,and collected. She returned when a truck honked at her several times. She ran as fast as she could back to the spot on the porch that she was supposed to be sitting and screaming.
The doctor increased his meds just a little more and I think we are where we need to be. She warned me that the hope to make the voices go away completely were not reasonable. He will need to learn cope. We have been working on that. He had been terribly afraid when they began but with the help of P*ozac, he is staying much calmer. The same med is also helping his libido. He expressed that he thinks the voices can see him and know what he thinks about. He hears a small child scream at him regularly now. It has become more often now. He sees people in his windows sometimes during the day and at night. He isn't afraid they will hurt him, he just doesn't like it. I can't say I blame him.
I'd like to tell you a "hypothetical" story about a boy that made me nearly pee my pants this week. I mean, would have if I had been there and knew him.
One afternoon a mother of many had returned from a brief outing, she went around the house looking for all her little rugrats and shutting off the many lights that are always left on. She thought nothing to open the bathroom door to do just this and was surprised when she saw her adorable son standing there in his underwear looking like a deer caught in the head lights. She apologized for disturbing his privacy and suggested he lock the door next time. He was speechless. She instinctively knew something was off and looked around the room. She noticed a pillow, comforter, and giant stuffed dog on the floor like it was a bedroom. She calmly asked if he had been laying down in there. He replied, "I was trying to get comfy." She knew what was really going on and told him it was OK to do that in the bathroom but could he please leave his bedding in his room and lock the door. He informed her, "Sometimes it takes too long and I need to lay down and get comfy." It took all she had not to burst into laughter. She restated her original comment and shut the door.
Later the same Mom asked her son to finish his writing assignment from the past several days. He asked if he could write about other things, too. She was desperate to get the darn assignment over and joyfully accepted his idea. About and hour later he was so happy to show her he had written somethings down. He was so proud of himself and explained he had written what was on his mind, like his teacher told him to do in his journal at school. He handed her the paper and she began to read it. "I luv my wenr. It felz good wen I tuch it. It is my best toy." She wasn't sure what to say and she knew she couldn't do it with a straight face so she pretended to cough and told him to hold on. She ran to her bathroom and laughed her ass off. When she returned fully composed, she thanked him for his effort and told him he had done a great job of sharing his thoughts. His little face beamed with pride.
Have I mentioned lately that I lvoe my life? I have so many entertainers around me that it would be impossible not to.