Good News, Bad News

Since leaving the hospital we've had an intensive in-home psychiatric service at our house twice a week. We were working with two clinicians. The case manager was wonderful, but didn't come as often as the regular clinician. I had high hopes for the clinician because 1) he was male, and Taz really looks up to men and 2) he worked for years in a psychiatric hospital.

Well, after week three I realized he's kind of a dud. He might be good with older kids, I don't really know. But he seemed very uncomfortable around Taz and I wonder if it might be because of his age. Sometimes men have trouble with younger kids. Again, I don't really know. But he wasn't helpful. Beyond saying, "that's not nice," any time Taz did something aggressive or mean, he didn't offer much else.

Two weeks ago he brought another clinician from a different team who has special experience with sensory issues. She wasn't assigned our case but was offering a consultation to help.

I loved her!

She "got" Taz right off the bat. She didn't hesitate to jump in when he was having a problem. She talked him through his feelings about why he's mad at me and calling names. She was calm but confident. She was awesome!

So, I called the director of the program the day after and asked to be switched to her team.

She said yes!

Actually, she said that the girl came back from our house and asked why she wasn't given our case. She obviously felt the same connection.

Let's call her "Katie". She came last week and in one session did more than the other clinician did in four weeks.

I'm very excited to work with her!


That's the good news.

Here's the not so good news.


I can see Taz deteriorating again. I'm hoping it's just the anxiety of starting school. Or maybe because his sleeping patterns have been a little off.

But I'm really really really really really hoping he stabilizes quickly. I am NOT looking forward to another medication change.

Actually, I'm terrified of it.

And I'm most definitely terrified of ending up back in the hospital. I nearly have a panic attack when I think about it. And even though it helped in the long run, it felt like a nightmare.

So, send happy, fuzzy, lovely, positive thoughts our way if you can.