If our child had cancer, friends and family would be filling our refrigerator with food and offering rides to chemotherapy appointments.
If our child had cancer, he would have visitors and “get well soon” cards every day he spent in the hospital.
And if our child had cancer, we’d be able to reach out to a well-organized support network.
But he doesn’t have cancer. He has a mental health disorder. And when he celebrated his 10th birthday on a locked floor at a psychiatric hospital, there were no casseroles, or happy birthday calls, or a support group to attend.
The challenge of raising a child with behavioral health issues is most often evident in our interactions with the medical community and with the community at large.
His medical care over the years has been uncoordinated and splintered. One doctor does his yearly physical. Another doctor writes the prescriptions for his medication. A third specialist sees him specifically for his mental health diagnosis. And the three have no means by which to share information.
I look forward to change in the health care system so that his care can be delivered in a more organized way.
When folks meet our son, they notice he talks a lot and bounces on his feet. He walks in circles, and, even though he’s 11, proudly carries his small stuffed bear.
Children, parents, or teachers will often ask: “What’s wrong with him?”
I answer, always, with:
“There’s nothing wrong with him. His brain just works differently than yours.”
I’ve been accused of being a bad parent more times than I can count. “He wouldn’t act that way if you were a better mother.” Once, I was told, all he needed was “a good smack.”
I clench my teeth, smile and move on, hoping that someday our society will embrace a culture that understands and supports those who have a mental illness.
Michele Nuttle can be reached at 978-7172, ext. 234. or at mnuttle@ledgertranscript.com.