There's something particularly fucked up when you write a blog post reminding yourself to be grateful, conscious of the rest-phase between the contractions that continue to come, making a pact with yourself to stop focusing all the time on the hard parts, and then five minutes after hitting POST, get a call that sends you back to the ER with your kid. That's fucked up.
N had some kind of incident yesterday that was worrisome for his friends, but last night being the first night of the olanzapine, we're (me and the ER docs) are thinking that because he hasn't had harming thoughts today, he's post-first-day of meds, and has supportive home/school/providers, he was okay to come home. But let me tell you, bags were packed for a long stay at the ER in case an adolescent bed was unavailable.
I feel like I never get to fully come to rest. I don't even have a clue how I would do that anymore.
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