During the winter break of Kyle’s second year at Santa Monica College, he decided to make up a couple of classes that he had not done so well in the previous semester. I suggested that he take a break. Not going to school during the spring and summer helped me regain my energy and my drive, I told him. But he had insisted. He was already struggling with concentration problems, and I remember feeling this agitated unnamed electrical energy emanating from his body the first semester. I gave him the 'mom lecture' about too much partying, working, and attending school. But Kyle verified it wasn't that; it was because he had difficulty sleeping. I, on the other hand, figured it was a combo of many things. I told him his priority is school if that's what he wants to do, or getting a full-time job, and no more partying during the week. I finally set up boundaries: He had to be home by 12:00, or he had to call to let us know where he was staying.
Our blond son had become a heavy partier.
I don't remember exactly when it happened. Kyle came home late from a party again and slept most of the day and half of the next. When he woke up, he was incoherent and could barely focus. Of course, his stupid mom and dad thought, 'He'll sleep this thing off. It's just too much partying.' He easily got mad and threw things in his room. He slept all day for a week. He twitched and scratched. One night I remember him telling me, "Mom, the cops are following me everywhere. They're spying on me," he said as he repeatedly scratched his blond head.
I told him he was probably just afraid he would get another ticket. He had already had quite a few and had the car taken away for a while and totaled one car. Yes, he even received a DUI in the second semester of school (which he fought and won), so his dad had driven him to the bus stop for a semester because we had taken the car away. Now a semester had passed. Every once in a while, the idea that he was mentally ill bounced into my brain, but it was quickly booted out; not my son, I thought. Denial is an amazing form of protection, isn't it?
But one day, the only sane person in the house, Nicole, our daughter, walked into the kitchen and said, “Mom, you really need to listen to what Kyle’s saying.” I can’t remember if she said anything else, but I dropped what I was doing and walked upstairs. Fear grabbed tightly onto my whole frame. I wondered what else could be going on. I had prayed that sleeping more and staying home without school stress would have fixed him, but it hadn't. Yes, he had improved a little, but not much. The wild frenzy in his eyes was still there. The wild look and insane scratching, especially when he was around his father and the mumbling to himself, had gotten a touch better.
I walked upstairs and concentrated on slowing my breathing down so I could really listen. Kyle sat on the floor, looking at his foot, holding on tightly to his large right toe. “Mom, this toe is farting out, Jesus.” Tears formed in my eyes, but I choked them back. Oh, my God, our son is crazy. Alan and I had denied it these last two months, hoping he would just sleep it off. I guess our brains couldn’t believe our child was mentally ill, so denial took over. But now I realized that this was something extra sleep couldn’t fix.
I made an appointment with Kyle’s regular doctor, and then a referral was made to the Mental Health Department. They called, and I made an appointment, but before Kyle could go to it, we received a letter from Kaiser Permanente canceling Kyle’s insurance. They had learned that he had not attended Santa Monica College during the spring semester. That was the deal. To have coverage for our adult son, he had to go to school full-time. But since he was sick, I had talked him into taking a leave of absence. Kaiser found out that I hadn’t filled out the forms to prove that he was going to school full-time. We weren’t happy. My husband suggested that I call our friend, who is a doctor, to see if he knew of a psychiatrist, and yup, he did.
We had a group meeting with the psychiatrist and explained some of what Kyle had said and had been doing. Then the doctor asked us to sit in the waiting room while he spoke to Kyle privately. After about 15 minutes, the 300.00 dollars an hour psychiatrist called us back in. Kyle had shared with the doctor that the only problem was that he had issues with his dad, but he was working them out. The expensive doctor suggested that Kyle attend counseling regularly and handed him a prescription for his depression. We were astounded by how Kyle had pulled the wool over the professional’s eyes. We were surprised he could control his tics and scratching and sounded like his old self when he spoke. It was so bizarre. Did we have Kyle go to this doctor for counseling? Hell, no! It wasn’t the money; I can guarantee that. It was because the guy was an idiot! However, we are idiots for not obtaining a private therapist for Kyle, especially since he said he had problems with his father. I'm sure that would have helped him.
The doctor entirely ignored what Alan and I had shared with him earlier when we had met as a family. What part of our conversation wasn’t he listening to? The part that Kyle had told me about his big toenail farting out Jesus, or was it the sentence about Kyle’s paranoia about cops following him everywhere, or that he was sure his bedroom had been bugged, or was it the story about Kyle experiencing multiple universes? I wanted to talk to Kyle about his blatant lies to the doctor, but I knew Kyle would have denied them.
Did the psychiatrist think we were making up everything to get Kyle medicated so we could control him? I really don’t know. The next day I called Kaiser and told the secretary the whole story and our dilemma. A few days later, paperwork arrived regarding adults who are dependent on their parents, whether for mental or physical disabilities. Kyle signed the forms, and within a few weeks, he was fully covered through Kaiser Permanente. Once Kyle was approved to go to Kaiser, the specialist diagnosed him with Bi-Polar II and Schizophrenia.
Get a second opinion if there is a significant medical or mental issue that has been diagnosed. Many times different doctors will give you a different perspective on the diagnosis, medication, etc. With more information, you can make better decisions about how to help yourself or a family member. If you’re still unsure what to do and can afford it, get a third opinion. And most of all, get online and do the research. There’s so much out there now. I always look at who wrote the article because sometimes, it’s the drug company selling a product, so of course, they will write how fabulous the product is.
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