(The following below covers age 23-28)
Once Pam and Sandra called him about his little bluff I was released but with one stipulation. I had to see my medical doctor today about getting put on a medication. They called my doctor and made a appointment for 2 hours from then to get put on 50mg Thorazine tablets. So I was there for a total of 2 days (01/18/2004 to 01/20/2004).
And just before walking out the door the doctor pulled me aside. He told me "This is a warning. If you are ever admitted here again, we WILL do shock treatment I don't care what Pam and Sandra have to say about it. That's a promise".
Once home from the doctors office picking up the Thorazine and told Pam and Sandra what the psych ward doctor told me. Now I don't know if he had a way of overriding the health care proxy but I wasn't about to find out.
So we decided to move to California for three reasons. The first was because in California shock treatment is only voluntary. It cannot be forced on you. Not yet at least. Secondly because SSI pays $870.00 a month compared to New York's $525.00. And the third reason was because I was willing to give one more shot at repairing the relationship between me and my mom.
So over the course of 3 months I stayed away from all hotlines, therapists and police. 2 weeks before the trip I sent $250.00 to my mom to rent her Sacramento apartment for 2 weeks till the apartment in Stockton was ready.
So we packed up what we wished to take with us. We didn't have the money for a Haul so we packed up boxes and mailed ahead what wouldn't fit in the van. We mailed boxes to Pam's sisters, some to my grandparents down in Baldwin Park and the rest to my mom's apartment in Sacramento. This way no one person had too many boxes.
But sadly a lot had to be left behind. We just couldn't afford to take it all. And in the final rush I had forgotten to grab Buttercup, the big white fluffy dog Pam and Sandra had for me when I game in on the Greyhound. That killed me that it got left behind.
We left on our way to California just after closing our bank accounts in town on April 5th 2004. By 10am we were on the road. The car was packed very tight. We had 2 boxes though that were only going to be in the car for 1 day as we were stopping in Ohio to drop them off to DJ who moved near his dad a few months earlier. Then we continued on our way to California. It took us 5 days to get there. But thankfully we didn't have any car problems or anything along the way.
We arrived in Sacramento in the evening of April 9th 2004 as the apartment in Stockton wasn't ready yet. It was quite the trip. The minivan was so packed, to get Pam out we had to move two boxes off the seat first so she could get out. We were packed in there like sardines.
So when we arrived in Sacramento. We were going to be staying there as the apartment in Stockton wasn't ready yet. So my mom who had the Sacramento apartment let us rent it till the place in Stockton was ready. But there was a problem. A few days before leaving my mom called me upset saying she accidentally lost the $250.00 I sent her.
She said she was doing bills and had the money in a white envelope and she accidentally mailed the money I sent her. She went to the post office to try to recover it but really, who's going to return a unmarked envelope with $250.00 in cash in it? She didn't get it back. Got to be careful. It's just a shame that the envelope couldn't be returned to her. It's really sad that there are not more honest people in the world.
So as I was unpacking the van of what we would need while there my mom stopped me in the stairwell while I was bringing up some of the things we would need to use while we were waiting for the apartment in Stockton to be ready. She tells me "So what did you tell your friends about me so I can keep the story straight and not make you look bad"?
She was implying that I had said all kinds of lies to Pam and Sandra about her. I didn't. I told them exactly what she was like in the details I shared with Pam and Sandra about my childhood. Not just details about my mom, but John and Jonathan as well as other family that came up in conversation. I won't lie. So they got the hard core in depth truth.
So I told my mom "Just be yourself". Pam and Sandra already knew what she was like and already were expecting a sort of honeymoon stage where she put on a show to try to prove what I told them was wrong. And she did just that.
Even though I was taken back by her comments that everything I had told Pam and Sandra was a lie I continued to try to fix our relationship. Since she was driving for greyhound I decided to go with her on a couple runs. I found them to be boring spending 6-8 hours each way on a bus, but I didn't do it because it would be fun, I did it because I was trying to take interest in what she was doing.
Over time I got to learn the names of the routes she drove, what times these route ran, learned about the paperwork that was filled out, what driving the bus entailed and so forth. Also on runs I didn't go with her on, I would sit and listen as she shared what went on during those runs when she returned home.
Not being one to like going out a lot I did it anyway to try to do things with my mom. Went to the lake, went to BBQ's in parks and other trips. I was prepared to try my best to take interest in what she was interested in. That's just what you do with those you care about. Even if you don't like it, you pay attention and learn what they are into.
But sadly she didn't seem to want to repair the relationship as much as I did. She knew I ran this site but didn't know much more than the web address told her. All she knew was this place was for those who were bed wetter's and those who were AB/TB/DL's. But she didn't know what kind of activities and such we did here. She considered me and Sandra running this place as "playing on the computer". I never think of the work I do here as playing. I take helping those here very seriously and do all I can to help people here.
Besides that, I tried to involve her in other things. When me and Sandra rented movies we invited her and John in to watch them with us, but they would always turn down the invitation. When any offers came to her to take part in things I was interested in she would turn them down 9 times out of 10. She was happy when I took interest in her life's activities but she wouldn't take interest in what I was into or in what was going on in my life.
So the first of that following month we moved into the Stockton apartment, and ironically back to the same exact apartment I was in before moving to New York. Me, Pam, Sandra and my mom and her boyfriend moved into the 3 bedroom apartment.
And since Pam had problems with her legs I used the space under the stairs to build a small bedroom for her so she didn't have to go up and down the stairs every day. It wasn't huge, but it did the job. And since there was a bathroom downstairs too she only needed to go upstairs when she took a shower. So for us it was actually a 4 bedroom apartment. :)
What kind of pissed me off was that one of my uncles named Richard from my mom's side showed up. At first he showed up and was just hanging out. But later I came to find out that when he first showed up he tells my mom "So, where's the freak show?" referring to me as a AB, Pam as my AB mommy, and Sandra. Apparently to him we were a freak show.
Had I known he made that comment, I would have tossed his ass out of the house in no time. I have tolerance for that kind of behavior. Especially from so called "family". That was the one and only time I saw him since being back in California. He ended up going back to prison. He was out on parole but went back because he was stopped and found with drugs on him again.
In the first week of April after moving in I went to the County Mental Health (the place at 1212 California Street in Stockton) to get set up with some therapy. Pam and Sandra waited in the car because this was supposed to be a in and out type of thing. But when they saw my self injury they wanted to admit me.
Thankfully I knew the staff member who did the evaluation from when I worked security there and got it smoothed out. They said they would try to find something for me and get in touch with me later. I left and went home from there.
A few weeks later they found a therapist for me but she wouldn't be able to see me for several months as she was about to leave for a vacation. I was so frustrated that I went home and did some major self injury. The PTSD symptoms were just so bad. I was cutting words again so I knew it was bad to be doing that.
Things were ok for a little while there. But that changed when my mom threatened me with being put in the psych ward. I had gone back to the crisis center at mental health to get help locating a therapist sooner. They said they were only seeing 5150 cases and to come back the next day. But when I got home my mom had seen some self injury near the wrist area and told me if I cut there again she would call the police and have me taken to the psych ward.
I totally refused to revert back to my childhood when I lived in fear of when and if she was going to have me put in the hospital again. I hated living in fear like that as a child and refused to live like that again. So I confronted her.
I told her that first, I wasn't going to live in fear of being committed to the psych ward as I did when I was a child. And I told her if she ever did do it, she had better have her things packed when I got out of the hospital because she would not be welcome there anymore.
Now I understand that the self injury bothered her. I get that. But threatening to send me once again to the one place I am terrified of was not the way to handle it. And I totally refused to live in fear of being taken back to the hospital and hurt again. I already got enough of that via nightmares and flashbacks. I didn't need to go through it in real life too. My mom decided to move out into her own place shortly after I confronted her about her threat to have me committed.
The nightmares and flashbacks were still a continued problem as they were still coming on a daily basis. I was diagnosed while in New York with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the hospitals and how I was treated while seeing Peter Dallas. Leading up to the diagnosis, I was already pretty sure I had PTSD, I just was never evaluated or diagnosed with it. Now I was.
Now I was able to locate another therapist. A woman named Pam Mello. The problem is because I had the Medicare in addition to the Medi-cal she wasn't able to take me as a patient because she didn't take the Medicare. So the search continued.
In end of May I was really depressed and called 1-800-suicide to talk. Seems in California they are not non-intervention. I was calling from a pay phone outside the Walgreens pharmacy a block from where I lived. Within about 20 minutes several police cars moved on me and they placed me in handcuffs (AKA "protective custody").
I was taken to the psychiatric hospital at 1212 California Street in Stockton California. I was able to make the psych tech believe I was not suicidal. And luck was with me and he never noticed my cutting. So after 30 minutes of talking with the crisis worker I was released and went home.
Me and Pam set up a trip to southern California. We went down to pick up the boxes that I had mailed to my grandparents house and also we went to visit one of Pam's relatives down there.
I had finally found a new therapist in Stockton in the end of September. I was having trouble getting one because I had Medicare. While in New York I was signed up for the Medicare. What I didn't know about it is, that having Medicare not only carries high co-pays ($30.00 and up) for doctor appointments.
It was around this time me, Pam and Sandra sat down and came up with a plan. It wasn't easy for me to ask them of it but when I thought about the other option being the psychiatric hospital I felt it was a better plan.
I came across a website that made custom restraints. Some BDSM place. So I placed an order and got it a few weeks later. So the plan was that during times when I felt suicidal and that I might not be able to resist the urge to act on them Pam or Sandra would do the restraints for a few hours till the urge passed.
It wasn't the best plan and I sure didn't like it. But thinking more about it if I did act on the urge and ended up in a psych ward I would be in restraints anyway, and would be there for 3-14 days. At least with restraint use at home I would only be in them for a few hours and once it's over it's over. No time being held in the psych ward for days.
And plus doing this at home, I knew Pam and Sandra would never do anything to hurt me while in restraints. And I wouldn't be in them for some 12 or 14 hours. I would be out as soon as the urge passed. So that's the system we used and still use today. Although these days it's rarely used. But they are there if ever needed.
But also you can only go to a doctor that takes the Medicare. Not even County Mental Health accepts the Medicare. I have found it to be VERY difficult finding a therapist while also having the Medicare insurance.
I was able to find a new therapist through the Collage of the Pacific in Stockton California. They had therapists in training at the collage. They took the Medicare and let me skip the co-pay. Things were going ok for a little while. He learned a great deal about cutting and PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) from me and has actually visited some of the locations from my past where some of the abuse occurred including Tobinworld school in Glendale for example.
On February 4th, 2005 Pam died of a heart attack. It's really had an impact on my life. A week or so leading up to this Pam's doctor for some unknown reason took Pam off of her heart medication and she had been telling me of pains in her arm. What I knew was a sign of a heart problem and possibly a heart attack. I tried getting her to go to the ER to get it checked out, but Pam was very stubborn. She didn't go anywhere she didn't want to go.
At the time we had all gotten sick with the flu in the house. I was finally starting to feel better and my mom's boyfriend needed a ride to the doctors office. When I got back from taking him to the doctors Pam told me she was feeling sick and was going to go to the hospital.
I got a call that my mom's boyfriend was ready to be picked up. So Sandra came with me again as I was still using a permit and needed to have a licence driver with me. So I told Pam as soon as I got back I would take her to the ER as she was finally ready to go get checked out. Sadly it would be too late.
When we got back from picking up my mom's boyfriend I walked in the front door to find Pam laying on the floor. She was sweaty and VERY clammy. She was sure it was a sugar problem as she was diabetic. She told me she was trying to get dressed to go to the ER while we were gone and didn't feel right and fell.
I don't think even she knew she had just had a heart attack. At the time we all thought it was a blood sugar issue. I had already called the ambulance due to finding her on the floor and was trying to get her blood sugar reading. But the test would complete. It just kept erroring out.
The ambulance arrived, and she was well enough that she walked out to the stretcher and I walked them to the ambulance. I told Pam I needed to get some gas in the van and would meet her at the hospital. Like I said, at the time me and Sandra honestly felt she would be stabilized and sent home like all the other times. Especially since she walked out to the stretcher they had at the front door and was alert and all. But that would not happen this time.
When the ambulance left, me and Sandra got in the car and headed to go get some gas. 3 blocks from the house my cell phone rang. I gave it to Sandra to answer as I was busy driving. It was the hospital relaying a message from the ambulance. They were informing us they Pam has coded (her heart stopped) in the ambulance and they were now trying to do CPR.
Sandra told me what they said and I went on auto pilot. Not sure how else to describe it. I flipped the car around so fast, had no idea I knew how to do it like that. In my mind during the time it took to turn the car around I had plotted the quickest way to the ER without thinking. We got there in about 3 minutes. Don't tell no one, but I ran a few stop signs. Shhhh. I was scared and wanted to get the fast and sad to say I wasn't thinking about rules of the road.
As me and Sandra got into the ER, they took us back to a waiting room. The doctor came in and told us again about the ambulance ride. He said she sat up in the bed and said "I don't feel so good" and her heart stopped and she passed out/died. He said they managed to get her heart going again but her heart stopped again when she got to the hospital. He said they had got her heart going once again but he said he didn't think she was going to make it through the night. He left the room.
10 minutes later he came back. I knew something wasn't right. Sometimes I really hate my gifts. He came to tell us as best he could, that her heart stopped now a 3rd time and that they couldn't get it going again. She was dead. I was sort of in denial at that point to be honest. The doctor said we could see her, to kind of say goodbye. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do thus far.
I walked in the room and she was laying there with a tube tapped into her mouth that they were using to force air into her lungs during CPR. They never took it out. So that was a bit weird to see. She looked as if she was sleeping. But seeing as her chest was not moving kind of slammed me out of denial and forced me into reality.
She was really dead. It's not a bad dream or a mistake, it's real. Sandra took her hand and hugged her. I had started to lose it and had to look away. It's hard to explain, but my mind took over. Auto pilot took over as I don't recall much that happened after that except for what Sandra told me I did.
Apparently I became emotionless. I wasn't saying much or responding to the situation. I just had a blank look on my face. I took Sandra out and to the car, went to the bank and withdrew Pam's share of the rent money from Pam's account as we had not done the bills yet and I guess in my mind knew it had to be done. All this was done without my control. I was totally numb.
Apparently I even called DJ who moved across the street from his dad about a month before me, Sandra and Pam moved to California. I called him to inform him of what just happened. He kept begging me to tell him I was joking.
He didn't handle it too well either which I totally understand. He told me later that after he hung up with me he self injured for the first time in several years after he had stopped doing self injury. He turned back to cutting that night for comfort. To numb out the pain.
He had stopped doing self injury several years and was actually helping me try to quit. But in that moment, he lost it. And to be honest, I can totally understand slipping in that situation. It hurt to the core. My mind still wasn't letting me feel any feelings yet as I then called Pam's family and informed them as well.
It was almost 12 hours later when my emotions came back. That's when I totally fell apart. It was one of the few times my mom, her boyfriend and my brother and his girlfriend was there in a moment of need. It was rare but welcomed.
It was good to have the help as I was totally useless. Sandra and I actually just hugged that night and cried. Pam was like a mom to me. I honestly loved her as if she was my second mom. I loved her with all my heart. And it felt like someone had cut my heart right out of me. I cannot even describe the pain.
We left the TV on downstairs for several weeks as comfort as Pam would often watch TV late into the night when she couldn't sleep. And driving was even a challenge the first 2-3 weeks as I was crying off and on throughout the days. I would be fine and then suddenly burst into tears and had to pull over as I couldn't see to drive. It was a very horrible time for me, Sandra and DJ. Us 4 were a family in every sense of the word. We trusted each other with our lives.
Anyway, the therapist I was seeing was nice that he let me bring Sandra in to talk as well as she didn't have any therapist or anything. So we did a sort of joint session to work through Pam's passing.
A few days later we set up a memorial with a picture of her at her church. My mom, her boyfriend, my brother, his girlfriend and my dad came to the memorial. Though my dad left as soon as it was over. He clearly didn't want to be there. It was as if he was only there because he had to (he promised me he would be there) and not because he wanted to be there. I mean why come if you don't want to be there in the first place? As far as my mom, I was surprised she showed up as she hated Pam.
A few days after the memorial Sandra got sicker as she still had the flu. It turned out in addition to the flu turning into pneumonia Sandra also some how got Cellulitis on her right leg. We both thought that was a bit strange as she never had a problem with it before. Even with us both taking care of Pam's legs.
So Sandra was in the hospital for 2 weeks getting better. We both got sad though because Sandra's Cellulitis cleared up in about a month, but Pam's got handled wrong by the doctors in New York and now we know it didn't have to be that way had it been handled right.
What really made me and Sandra angry was Pam's sister who was handling her body. She arranged to have Pam cremated and sent out to her sister. But not before her sister and the family went on a vacation leaving Pam's remains sitting in the funeral home for several weeks.
It made us angry that they could go on vacation during such a situation. I mean how can you go have a fun filled vacation when her sister just died? We never understood that. Why couldn't it be put off for a week to handle her remains first and then go?
I was able to work through some of my pain for Pam's loss by making a memorial video. Pictures set to music. You can see I "HERE" Though I had a hard time stopping. I kept wanting it to be PERFECT. It took a lot to let it be what it was and stop trying for perfection at such a time. It was good the way it was. I think I just wasn't ready to stop as making the video was keeping my mind occupied.
I also got very angry with my mom in the week after Pam passed away. My mom came over and told me and Sandra we needed to take the room down and "move on". We really were not ready for that yet. It was helping us cope with everything by leaving the room there, kind of from time to time letting us draw comfort from letting ourselves believe for short periods of time that perhaps this was all a dream (more like a nightmare).
It helped for us to think in the back of our minds that she was just sleeping in her room, and was going to come out at any moment. It made the pain bearable. With the room taken down, we lost those short periods of comfort, escape. So I was angry at her for taking that from me and from Sandra. Me and Sandra just were not ready for that yet.
We also had an issue with the bank that we were making payments to for the car. They said her estate would have to give permission for the car to be sold over to us. And since her family really wasn't involved with us that wasn't going to happen. But some of her family spent no time swooping in to get any items that she had that they wanted.
We wanted to work with them a payment plan to keep the van because it has sentimental value to us as me, Pam and Sandra were all paying on it together. They wouldn't do it. They said someone will be out to pick it up. Guess that was meant to be because 2 months later the cooling system on the van went out. Coolant everywhere in the engine. So it sat in back till they came to pick it up.
A few months later I asked to have my sessions downgraded to once a month. I was having more problems than normal with the PTSD. The mere sight of a AMR (American medical Response) ambulance caused me to flashback to those times I was taken to Van Nuys Psychiatric when I was younger. So I was staying inside to avoid the trigger of seeing them.
The therapist freaked and was yelling at me, saying if he reduced my sessions that he would not be making enough to cover his bills. He hung up on me. Later when I showed up for the appointment I had set up the week before, he didn't show. I just got a letter saying he wasn't going to see me any more at all. I understand money is tight, but I would figure him being a therapist that he would understand my situation of the AMR ambulances triggering me.
Due to Pam's passing my mom and her boyfriend moved back in with me and Sandra to help carry the apartment because without Pam's share of the rent and stuff we couldn't carry the apartment ourselves.
On July 25th 2005 attempted suicide due to missing Pam very much and not being able to get help with the PTSD since Floyd at the Collage of the Pacific wasn't seeing me anymore I just couldn't take it. Cut my wrist. When I realized what I was doing I had Sandra help me take care of it.
Then on September 18th 2005 called a crisis line to vent and got picked up by police at my house. Police made me go with them. They took me to the St Joseph's Behavioral Heath Hospital in Stockton California for an evaluation. But they couldn't do anything and I was released and told “We can’t help you”.
And on September 23rd 2005 I was again taken to St Joseph's Behavioral Heath Hospital in Stockton California for an evaluation and was released again with “We can’t help you”
Finally on the afternoon of September 23rd 2005 I went to San Joaquin County Mental Health crisis to talk to them about my problem getting a therapist. I saw the same therapist there I saw in crisis when I first got to Stockton. The one I used to know when I was working security there. They put me in touch with Pamela Kyle's in outpatient there at mental health and got my an appointment to see a therapist from team D on September 27th 2005. A woman named Pamela Kyle's.
And I was able to see her twice. Once on October 5th and again on October 12th 2005. But on the second appointment I learned the building was sold and we would have to be moving. I saw sat to had gone through all that only to see a therapist 2 times. Seems like such a waste. We needed to go to Redding because there was no way only me and Sandra could possibly had carried the apartment ourselves.
With the building being sold to a different owner who was going to raise the rent to $950.00 a month we had to leave. Much too high. So since my mom was working for Greyhound at the time she found out that the Redding California had pretty cheap rents. So we all began packing to move up to Redding.
Also during this time my mom took me to Lodi California (one city over) to get my actual drivers licence as all this time I had just had my temporary learners permit. I never bothered to get my full licence before as I always had either Pam or Sandra in the car. I was never driving alone so never needed a actual full licence. I did now though. So I took the road test and passed no problem. I always knew I could do it, just never needed to before.
Also around this time my mom's Ford Escort was given to us. John was driving it when a woman rear ended him. It screwed up the frame and the car was classified as totaled. It was still drivable though, just the back looked like crap. She my mom paid $500.00 to get the car classified as salvaged and used the rest of the money she got from the woman's insurance and got a SUV.
We got my mom's Ford Escort for two reasons. The first is she told me herself she was too afraid to drive it because she was afraid something would fall off while she was driving and she would get into a accident. But apparently it was safe enough to give us to drive around though.
But secondly the car came with attachments. Yes she gave it to us for free, but when she wanted something done it would come up. Such as when we didn't really want to do a favor she asked, she would bring up that she got us the car and that we owed her. She tried to say it was a "gift". It may have been a "gift" but it didn't come without strings. But in the end at least we had some wheels so I guess it was worth it.
So with my new licence in hand, a few weeks later we loaded up the Uhaul and the 2 cars and made are way to Redding on October 19th 2005. And it took about 6 months after moving to Redding before I was finally about to find a therapist that I could work with.
Sheela Stocks. She specializes in trauma victims (PTSD was her specialty). I found her to be very helpful. While working with her I didn't have too many run in's with the psych ward. I saw her a number of times. She was doing a sliding scale for me. With the sliding scale and having my mom and her boyfriend there, I had enough money to cover the co-pays.
On August 8nth 2006 my mom had decided she wanted to stop renting and move into a house. She found a 5 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath house located in Shasta Lake California. It was nice for the most part but not without it's problems. It's set at the base of mountains. I like that we get snow but not enough to have to move it. We only get about 3 inches of snow a year which isn't bad. I loved it being I am a big polar bear and all. :)
The 1/2 bathroom in the house was missing a small shower that was taken out but the pipe was never sealed. It was left exposed. The other problem was the pipe that went to the main drain wasn't slopped, so toilet paper and stuff wouldn't flush, it just settled in the pipe and caused clogs.
Then there was the mold problem in the house that caused us all to get sick. We were feeling so tired all the time and I was constantly hitting my inhaler. We just didn't know about all the problems as it wasn't mentioned when he got the place.
In July of 2007 Darien my friend flew out here to California from back east in Ohio to live here with us. My mom had paid for his plane ticket out here and he was paying her back.
It was really nice having DJ with us all under one roof again. He has CF (Cystic Fibrosis) that caused his lungs to freak out a lot. He was on constant oxygen. He didn't let it slow him down though. Me and him spent lots of time just hanging out together.
We spent many nights venting about our childhood experiences in the psych ward. We both pretty much grew up with psych hospitals in our childhoods. And we both have self injury in our history. Plus we both liked playing World Of Warcraft a lot.
I think we both kind of used World Of Warcraft as a escape. To pretend to be someone else, somewhere else, at least for a little while. So we get along and understand each other well. I always considered him my brother. Well, big brother. He is 10 years older than me. :)
In the beginning of October 2007 I got approved for a $3,000.00 credit card from bank of America. It's funny the timing though. I had taken the car (the one my mom gave me in Stockton after the accident she got into with it) to get a oil change as it was really running hard. I pulled up to the station there just as the car died. Something in the pistons. it just wouldn't start again. Just then the guy comes up and says "What can I do for you?". I just laughed and said "Nothing now". LOL. Hey, could have been worse. Could have broken AFTER I paid for the $40.00 oil change...lol.
So I paid to have the car towed back to the house and went looking for a new car. I figured with the new credit card, I would use that to put some money down on a new car. With DJ's illness, in the back of my mind I knew he might die anytime. So I was looking for something that should anything happen to DJ, or anyone of us, the other two of us would be able to pay for the car payments.
So we were looking for something around $150.00 - $200.00 a month payments. After visiting several places I came across a gray 99 Dodge Grand Caravan that was being sold for only $6,000.00. I put a $1,500.00 down payment and that put the payments right at $142.00 a month. Which was almost $60.00 BELOW what I was looking to pay for monthly payments. However I needed a co-signer.
My mom agreed to do it after I paid for her time, gas in her car to cover going to the bank and all that, the $30.00 to her as well as me to open accounts at the credit union which was doing the loan. So total it costs about $130.00 for the account at the credit union, and the money paid for my mom's time and gas. I was approved for the loan and went home.
The following day though sold the old car that broke down to pick a part for $250.00 and that just about covered the money I had to put out for my mom's gas for her car, and the bank accounts and all that, so I guess it all worked out.
The van was much more comfortable, had a working AC and a trunk I could actually use as the car's trunk was damaged in the accident and wasn't useable. So all in all, everything worked out alright. It always seems that when something bad happens, I am provided with a solution to it, as was the case with the car breaking down and being provided with the funds to buy the minivan.
Toward the end of October a therapist had told me about Enloe Hospital in Chico California that was supposed to be able to treat those with PTSD. It was voluntary hospital so I could leave anytime I wanted....sort of. I decided to give it a try to get some tips on how to manage the PTSD.
The first time I attempted to go there I drove 3 hours down there, got to the door and couldn't walk in. At the door I began having a severe panic attack and had to get back in the car and drive back home.
I tried again a few weeks later on November 3rd. This time I managed to go in. I arrived around 5:30PM and was admitted for suicidal thoughts and self injury due to dealing with the constant nightmares and flashbacks.
I was hoping to learn some coping skills for stress. I was only able to be there till 7:30pm when I had a severe panic attack from being there and had to check out. I couldn't breath. Once out at the car hitting the inhaler trying to calm down I was ok and drove home.
The main reason for leaving was due to several flashbacks of being attacked by staff which triggered an a panic attack feeling that any second several staff would come into the room and attack, all caused by the PTSD which I thought I could control long enough to be there. But it just didn't work out that way.
The other problem that made me decide to leave was my problem with medications. The staff kept trying to give it to me every 3 hours instead of every 6 hours as I was supposed to have it. That would be a overdose of narcotic level pain killers.
When I would try to correct them and point out their mistake, they would get angry saying I was refusing my medications. It's like hello, I don't want to die. Anyway all in all I felt I needed to leave before the situation got out of control and I freaked out and did something I would regret doing.
When I informed the staff that I wanted to leave 3 different nurses came in to try to convince me to stay. All very nice and all trying to tell me of all the services I would get by staying. But I know what would/could happen if I stayed. What could happen if I snapped from the panic attack.
When I once again politely said no, they then changed their attitude and took a more stern attitude and said "Well if you choose to leave we will have to contact the mobile crisis team to do an evaluation to have you placed on a 5150 (involuntary hold) hold because we feel you are still a danger to yourself due to the self injury".
They were saying if I was uncomfortable there that the involuntary ward would be much worse. I wasn't in any mood for their threats. I called them on their bluff. I had no doubt it was a bluff to get me to stay. Long story short after finally seeing the doctor a half hour later and explaining to him that I wished to leave he granted my request and I was released and I went home.
Also in the end of October of 2007 while surfing the internet looking for links for the link pages on this site I came across a page about something called "Diaper Discipline". In short, it involves putting the person into diapers and or the forced use of baby items to get the person to do a desired behavior. Very common in the BDSM scene and is also used a a adult baby role play as well.
That didn't shock me. What shocked me to learn was that this wasn't being done to willing adults. This was being done to children. Real live children. Children as young as 5 all the way up to 18. Some it's done to short term as short as a weekend to a week.
And then there is what they call "Lifestyle Diaper Discipline" that the child is returned to diapers, made to use them with the bathroom being locked except for their parents. And for some of these children they are forced to use baby items such as pacifiers, baby bottles and sleep in a crib, sit in a playpen and so on. These poor kids are basically taken and treated exactly as if they were 2 years old.
I was hoping they were joking, and that this was some adult baby role playing site or something. I wasn't that lucky. It's a site where these parents get together and swap means of ways to make their kids wear the diapers. Ways of forcing them to keep the diapers on via locking plastic pants that have a small chain and pad lock sewn into the waist band. It's all real.
Parents are encouraged to post weekly updates of what their children did to get diaper discipline, what babyish things they are doing to them or making them do, how long it's going to go on for and how the children are reacting to it (for example, crying during diaper changes, depressed, suicidal, upset, fighting back and so on).
Now I had heard of diaper discipline before finding the web site although I didn't know it had a name when I first saw it done. The first time I saw it done was when it was being done to my brother. Twice. Once when visiting my aunt and uncle on the west coast where he was made to wear the plastic pants to bed every night. And again when my grandma on my mom's side threatened to diaper him for bed wetting and then made him sleep in the tub.
And then there was a good friend of mine Glenn who shared his experience with diaper discipline that his mom did to him for many years all because of bed wetting. He wrote a AB story using his experiences he had while his mom was using diaper discipline on him. Here's a page that has all the true facts of what his mom and aunt did to him, just click "HERE" to see it. The diaper discipline he was put through was all over his bed wetting. So I joined the diaper discipline group a few weeks later and have been working since then to get these kids some help to end this worst psychological abuse I have ever seen done to children. The main website for the diaper discipline is located at: http://www.diaperdisciplinesite.com/. And the weekly reports are posted to a password protected message board you can see by clicking "HERE".
It's all ran by a 42 year old man named Chip Peruzzi who lives in Murfreesboro TN. When I am not working on this site, my time is spent trying to get the kids on the diaper discipline site some help. Nothing a kid can do makes it ok to do such a abusive psychologically damaging thing to them.
All the posts that have ever been posted I have been logging and is saved to my computer hard drive and the hard drives of others trying to help these kids. There is a current open investigation although it's not moving as fast as I would like to see it going. One of the main issues is that the parents doing this are not all in just the US. They are in every country around the world.
Later to come in August of 2009 (in two more years) joined a website called Hubpages.com and I put up a detailed article about diaper discipline. But due to trying to post my biography on there which created a error in their system, my account was deleted for spamming. Even though it got sorted out later, they couldn't recover my account. But thankfully I had a back up of the article about diaper discipline which can be read by clicking "HERE" in which names names. Just to let you know, the article is long, so make sure you read it when you have some free time. Sadly there was so much to cover in the article. And there is a active petition that is collecting signatures to create a law solely for protecting children from this form of child abuse called "Diaper Discipline". You can view the petition by clicking "HERE". So anyway while I am working on getting these kids who are getting diaper discipline help I am still battling to get help for my PTSD. And on November 5th 2007 I was admitted to Elpedia (Redding's voluntary psych ward attached to their mental health center) at 11:20PM and I was able to stay there without a problem until November 7th at 7:40am. Again I had to leave due to flashbacks and anxiety attacks as well as medication problems.
It seems the longest I can stay in a psych ward is 1-3 days before PTSD related problems and other problems become too much to control and I need to leave before and incident happens. And by incident I mean going off in such a way as someone is hurt. And I refuse to let such an incident happen if it's in my control. But while I was at Elpedia I was able to get some information on possible ways to cope with stress. So it wasn't a total loss.
On December 7th 2007 I went to mental health to try for an intake for a therapist in Redding California. The social worker doing the intake accused me of faking my mental illnesses because I quoted my mental illnesses as if they were out of a text book. She thought that because I am not in touch with my feelings (don't cry and such) and tend to smile when nervous.
And she feels that I cut (self injury) and attempt suicide as a form of attention and a way to get feelings out of others. Or to project my feelings from others. That's not the case at all. And I made this feeling well known to her, that I was very angry by this accusation. I then asked her straight up if she was going to help me get a therapist or not and she told me no, she didn't think I needed one. So I told her "Then we are done here" and left.
She stopped me at the door of the building and gave me her card and had the nerve to tell me "When your serious about getting better call me". I was so offended. I was so angry and hurt that I went home and cut and then attempted suicide, but was stopped by Sandra.
She later that day told me she would pay for me to see Sheela stocks again. So I called and set up an appointment. She agreed to have me come back and that day (December 7th 2007) was my first appointment back with Sheela Stocks.
We pretty much just caught back up on the last few months and she gave me a ADHD test to confirm the ones I had taken online which came out to be positive for the 3rd time. So on the 28th I saw my medical doctor about medication, who prescribed Ritalin for the ADHD so I can have some control over the hyperactivity and be able to concentrate more.
On January 6th 2008 I was admitted to Enloe Psychiatric Hospital in Chico California again for having suicidal thoughts from all the nightmares and flashbacks. I was going through a really bad nightmare storm. A nightmare storm is basically what I call it when I have a nightmare 2 or more times in one hour of sleep.
I sometimes just reach a level where I just can't take it anymore as was the case when I was admitted to Enloe this time around. However I was only there for a total of 9 hours before checking out AMA (Against medical advice).
When I arrived at the hospital I was offered a sandwich because of the low blood sugar. It never came. I had to wait 4 hours later, until dinner to eat. When I was checked in, the diapers I had, instead of taking them to my room discreetly, they just gave me 4 which I had to carry down the hall in full view for everyone to see. The bed was another problem. It had no pillow on it. When I asked for one 3 different times, still no pillow. So I rolled up my jacket and used that as a pillow.
I was also denied my pain medication for my back with the excuse of I was still being checked in. This was over 4 hours after arriving. This excuse continued for several hours. After 9 hours there of being in severe pain with no medication I had enough and decided to leave.
The flashbacks were already getting out of control and with all the problems already happening I decided it was time to leave. It just seems like every time I got to the hospital someone always happens.
Before they would let me leave however I had to write out why I wanted to leave in detail, my support system at home in detail and what I would do if I became suicidal while at home in detail. Being upset from the flashbacks and in pain from not having medication it made writing the paper very difficult.
After about a hour and a half it was done and I was released. Once I got in the car I took my medication. I felt better and calmer just being out of the hospital and in the car. Safer.
When I got home my mom asked why I was back already. When I explained that I couldn't handle it there her response was "I knew it, your a pussy". Not something anyone would expect as a response from a parent. It was just harsher than anything I expected she would say.
She's always talking crap to me though. Telling me how fat I am. Always looking at my plate of food commenting on how much I am having to eat, even though I only eat twice a day which would explain the bit larger meal size had she bothered to ask. Always something wrong with me.
And it was now that my mom's front was coming down. The honeymoon stage she had been on trying to prove wrong the things I had told Pam, Sandra and DJ about the way she is was now gone. She even tried to turn DJ against me but failed. She was telling them not to count on me, that one day I would walk out and leave them. She was wrong.
Even if I was to ever meet a woman and settle down, there would always be room for Sandra and DJ. Me and my future mate would make sure we had a room for them as well. That will never change. Sandra, Pam and DJ.....they are my family.
In the beginning of February my mom had come in and sat next to me and Sandra (DJ was in his room at the time) and asked how we would feel being apartment renters again. I said sure. Me and Sandra had already been planning to move due to my mom's actions. Those being her doing anything she wanted.
When we got the house, she had said it would be all of ours. However that's not how she acted. She would cut down trees without bringing it up with everyone to see how everyone felt about it. I was angry because one of those trees was the one that was keeping shade over my car during the summer as the car didn't have AC.
Then she would go through the house and turn things off if she felt no one was using them. Many times me or Sandra would be using the bathroom and come out to find the TV we were watching off along with the light leaving us to walk back into a dark living room. Not just once, but several times.
When I did it to her room to help her understand how I was feeling she yelled at me for going into her room and turning her things off without permission. It was ok for her to do what she wanted around the house, but not to her or her things.
Me and Sandra had the thought to talk to her about moving out and giving her 6 months notice, however she's one of those people that if you piss her off she will boot you out swiftly. So we decided to keep this plan to move out to ourselves until we saved up our money first, then give 6 months notice. So we were a bit surprised when she came in asking about going back to renting apartments. Which is why I said yes so fast.
So the house went on the market. She had the realtor come over to do a walk through of the house and take pictures for the listing. I put up a hidden camera because I was interested what a realtor thought of my nursery from a realtor's view. I was a bit surprised what was actually caught on tape.
My mom told the realtor that I screwed up the bathroom floor. The story behind that is several months back, she had gotten these black marble style peel and stick tiles which actually says on the back of the box not to use in a bathroom or kitchen or anywhere moist. She used them anyway. However they didn't quite line up so she was cutting slivers to fill in the space that wouldn't stick and were coming up.
So I said I would relay them, knowing they still probably wouldn't work but at least would be straight and not having slivers everywhere. I had her get some glue from the store since the peel and stick didn't hold. I figured the the glue would hold the in place better than what the peel and stick was doing.
I also got some polyurethane that I was hoping would work to seal the cracks between the tiles and prevent them from peeling up. It just didn't work no matter what I did. They just were not designed for use in a moist area. So she blamed me for them not working. Never should have bothered to try to fix them.
So then the realtor goes to check out Sandra's room. Due to the medication she's on for the brain tumor she's got, it causes her to have a scent. I understand that and don't care. But my mom was talking stuff about it. Pissed me off.
Then the realtor got to my room which was the whole reason the camera was put up to begin with. She took some pictures and then my mom begins talking crap about me now. My mom tell's the realtor "Sorry, my son is mental, he thinks he is a baby. And he drives a car, doesn't that just scare the hell out of you?".
First of all, I don't THINK I am a baby. I am well aware that I am a adult. I ROLE PLAY as a baby. Pretend from time to time. I don't THINK I am a baby. Big difference. Then what does role playing as a baby have to do with driving a car? I don't role play while I am driving. I would never do that and risk the lives of people on the road. Plus when I walk out the front door, the baby role playing stops. I am full adult while in public. ALWAYS.
Then the comment about it being scary that I drive a car. I have never gotten in a accident or gotten a ticket. The worst that's ever happened was me hitting a deer. Two were having sex in the snow covered road and I couldn't do anything to miss them (mentioned earlier). Aside from that, I have never gotten into a accident or got a ticket.
In the end, the realtor liked my room. She said having a nursery would actually help the house sell for families and such having a already painted nursery ready to go. She could care less that I was AB. So the tape was just another nail in the end of our relationship coffin between me and my mom.
On February 20th 2008, we moved out of the Shasta Lake house that myself, Sandra and DJ was sharing with my mom and her boyfriend in. We moved back to Redding, and back into the same apartment building we were living in before we moved into the Shasta Lake house, just a different apartment. My mom and her boyfriend got her own place on the other side of the complex me, Sandra and DJ moved into.
My brother and his girlfriend who were living in one of the bedrooms in the Shasta Lake house from time to time had already moved out 5 months before and got their own apartment. Me, Sandra and DJ just couldn't get along anymore sharing a place with my mom and everyone else. It's much calmer just me, Sandra and DJ in our own place.
And mid February I met with my doctor about my severe spinal pain he suggested a adjustable hospital bed as anymore further pain medication would cause damage. So a few days later the bed arrived. Although the mattress happens to be the same blue waterproof kind used in psychiatric hospital restraint room. So as much help for my back in relieving pain as it may be, it's currently tripping off the PTSD and causing flashbacks and nightmares to be worse.
I have not been able to find a way to counter the effects as of yet. But by at least making sure the mattress is covered with a fitted sheet and stuff it can at least reduce the change of tripping off the PTSD. In the end though the bed does help give support to my spine where I need it.
On April 4th 2008 at about 3am I had a bad nightmare about the abuse at Van Nuys Psychiatric Hospital that was particularly upsetting. I was very upset by the nightmare and decided to call my mom at that very moment and confront her. I told her what was done to me in there. That had she not used the psych ward as a punishment it never would have happen.
Why she couldn't just ground me or whatever like normal kids get. Why a psych ward? Her response was that it wasn't her fault at all. That if I had just been a better kid. Sure I made mistakes. Who doesn't? But making mistakes doesn't excuse her lying to the hospital saying I was suicidal when I wasn't just to get them to deal with me. And had she not lied to get me put there, the spinal injury among other injuries never would have occurred.
So she says it wasn't her fault. That she didn't feel any guilt over what happened at all. So somehow it was my fault that I was sent to those hospitals, and my fault that they hurt me. Right. I told her we were over. That the relationship was over. To never call, write or contact me again in any way. Period.
Since then, we have not talked, nor do I ever plan to have anything further to do with her. I don't want to be around someone so heartless and cold. To have their own child sent to a place, lying to do it, have them be seriously injured and not feel the slightest guilt for it. That's pure cold heartedness.
Not only did she talk negatively about me, but just being in her presence actually caused me chest pain. And I really didn't want to do it anymore. Since doing it, my life has been much less stressful. I still have problems with my mental problems (PTSD, ADHD and such) and with the psych wards, but that's all the stress I have in my daily life now. I have done the same thing with 99.9 of my family due to the relationships being so toxic.
Even my grandfather would always tell me I was nothing but trouble. Would tell my friends as a kid to stay away from me, that I would get them into big trouble. Cost me lots of friends. The only family member I had a decent relationship with was my grandma (Barbara) on my dad's side. I had a relationship with my god father Kenny but it was casual, when he wanted me around.
A lot happened between April 2008 and December 6th 2008. However most of it only consisted of me calling hotlines to talk about nightmares and flashbacks, the hotline sending the police to "check" on me, the police taking me to the ER to sit there for 4-8 hours waiting for mental health to pick me up to take me to the crisis office just long enough to overturn the 5150 hold (California code for a involuntary 3 day psychiatric hold) and sending me home. Time after time the same way. Nothing changing. It was a waste of time and of county money just for them to do nothing. I was never able to get a therapist and so on.
So all this time, Shasta County Mental Health has continued to overturn the 5150 (involuntary hold) holds the police/doctors place me on thinking it would force mental health to give me treatment. But they just overturn the 5150 hold and send me home whether I am suicidal or not.
The only incident that actually was any different was a visit to the ER while DJ was in the hospital getting one of his work ups. On August 27th 2008 I had gone down to the ER to once again fight to get services. But today DJ was to get out of the hospital. He was due to be released about 6 hours from the time I arrived at the ER.
I figured I had plenty of time to go over there, talk to mental health about what was going on and for them to do the normal "We are not going to help you one bit" and go home. So anyway I was waiting at the ER until I got the call from DJ that he was being released from the hospital and he needed a ride home.
I told the ER doctor the situation that I had to go pick up DJ and would be back after I took him home. But the doctor told me that if I left he would have to call the police to bring me back since I had not been evaluated yet. Since there was no one to help DJ I had no choice. So I walked out to the car, drove home to get my brother's girlfriend just in case I was stopped and picked up, that way she could continue on to get DJ.
So I got to the other Hospital where DJ was without incident, picked him up and returned home. Everything was fine until we pulled into the driveway of the apartment building where the were a police car waiting. He pulled up behind me, as I was getting out of the car and I went inside.
About a half hour later 3 more police arrived and finally came to the door. They told me they had to take me back for an evaluation. However they lied. They told me, Sandra and DJ that I would be taken over to the hospital voluntary, seen and released and that the police would drive me home and it would probably take no more than a hour or less.
So I walked out to the police car, as soon as I sat in the car the officer handcuffed me, first lie. He never mentioned handcuffs. I wasn't being violent at all. I was calm and co-operative with the search and getting in the car. There was no need for the use of handcuffs. I was told in the car that I would be on a 5150 hold when I got there to boot. Yet another lie. A 5150 hold is involuntary, not voluntary.
After a 15 minute drive in the backseat of a 111 degree cop car I was taken into the hospital. Up comes a staff member to ask me why I left. I calmly explained to him why I had to leave. He gets and attitude and says "Well now your ass isn't going anywhere" and walks off chuckling.
The nurse comes in to take vitals. Seems my BP is way to high to be taken over to mental health for an evaluation, it was 158/102. They wanted to give me a dose of Ativan to bring it down. I refused the medication. So the only option was to keep me there for an hour and wait for it to come down on it's own.
Finally I was moved to the police car to be taken to mental health, still in handcuffs during this whole time. Before the office could shut the door the nurse comes running back out to check my pulse again. Seems it's still too high, I have to be brought back in. So back in I am waiting, still in handcuffs. Finally a hospital security guard comes to take over and the handcuffs are removed.
After another 45 minutes wait the doctor comes in to ask me if I am still feeling depressed and suicidal. I was angry and upset and just wanted to leave, so I told him no that I was fine now. So he told me that I didn't have to go to mental health then and I am free to go home, but the ER want's to run a EKG first. I sat still waiting for another 30 minutes for them to run an EKG before discharge.
I refused and was finally released. I had to call home for a ride home because gee, what a surprise that the police nor the hospital would provide a ride home like they said they would. Can't stand it when people promise something then come to find out they just said it to get you to do something. And the police wonder why people get a attitude with them.
It's now actually reached the point however that the cops don't even bother to respond. They know the story and know mental health does nothing. Most times if I am still on the phone at the time, they drive by, see it's me and continue on. Which is good in that I am tired of having to make my way back home from the hospital for nothing. Waste of money. And really, it's a waste of money for the county too at average of $6,000.00 charged to my medical insurance per ER visit.
In a average month of being taken to the ER for a evaluation a typical month billed to my insurance is $40,000.00 just to sit on a hospital bed in the ER for 8 hours and sent home when mental health overturns the involuntary hold. It's stupid. And it could all be solved if just $1,200.00 from that $40,000.00 from just one month was used on therapy sessions.
Just that $1,200.00 alone would pay for me to see a therapist 4 times a month for a year. Instead my insurance pays out $480,000.00 for a average year just for me to be sitting in the ER for 8 hours and then be sent home. A total waste of money when just $1,200.00 out of that five hundred thousand dollars would cover all the therapy I needed for an entire year. Which is cheaper....lol. Instead mental health keeps refusing me. The system is clearly broken.
On December 6th of 2008 DJ was having a hard time breathing and was taken to the hospital by ambulance because of Pneumonia. At first we thought everything was going to be alright as he has bounced back from it in the past. But me and Sandra were wrong.
We had thought everything was alright when he was released on home IV on Around December 12th. He has already started feeling bad again and said he was going to go back to the hospital the next morning. We didn't want him to miss Christmas so we decided to open Christmas gifts early that year incase he ended up in the hospital.
For gifts that year we got him a George Forman grill as he loved grilling meats often. And we got him this special toaster that would cook two hot dogs as well as brown two hot dog buns all at the same time. Before that gift, he was boiling hot dogs in a pot. This way he could have hot dogs on buns all cooked at the same time. And he got a few other odds and ends as well. We had a great time.
However early that next morning he began having bad problems breathing again and had to go back to the ER my ambulance again before he intended to go. The ambulance crew was rude to him too. They came and he was having trouble walking and breathing so he was taking a break on the sofa real fast. The woman EMT told him "Oh stop being such a baby and let's go". Freaking PISSED ME OFF. You don't talk to someone like that.
We got to the ER and saw the doctor and he said the Pneumonia was back. Things went from bad to worse. As time went on days went to weeks with him in the ER some of his family that was in the area at the time stopped by to see him and see how he was doing.
We knew something wasn't right and that things might be more serious when in the ER his lungs were so bad he went from being on 2 liters of oxygen to a high flow 12 liters. I didn't even know they made one that high. He was admitted that afternoon back to the hospital.
New Years came and since he couldn't come home still, we got permission from the nurses to stay till midnight to watch the ball drop. They said as long as we were not too loud it would be alright. So me and Sandra got a bunch of munchies and a few 6 packs of DJ's favorite soda Coka Cola and we all sat (him in his bed, me and Sandra in these reclining hospital chairs) and watched the ball drop together. For awhile, we all forgot where we were.
2 days later I found out that Clearwire (internet service) had a modem for laptops on the go. So I signed up to get the wireless networking card for his laptop so he could use his laptop to talk with his friends and for us to play our World Of Warcraft (Kilrogg Server) together to help him escape mentally from where he was. So DJ was able to talk to his other CF (Cystic Fibrosis) friends and keep everyone up to speed on how he is doing and such. And it let me and him talk at the times I wasn't there.
On January 19th 2009 I had been there all morning like I had been doing since he was in the hospital and needed some rest and to lay my back down so I woke him to let him know I was going home for 2-4 hours and would be back soon. So I went home and was laying down for about 2 hours when DJ's dad called me. He was asking what was going on.
Since I wasn't able to talk to his doctor about anything, all I knew was he had the Pneumonia and he was getting fixed up (what DJ would call a "tune-up") and would be sent home. Although I knew something wasn't right with him being on 12 liters. So all I could tell his dad was about him having the Pneumonia. That's when his dad told me DJ's doctor called him and told him DJ's lungs had just given out.
I told him I was on my way to the hospital. I hung up, got Sandra and we both headed to the hospital. When I got there they told me what happened. They said DJ had a difficult time breathing as his lungs had stopped working. He had a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order.
If his lungs gave out, they were supposed to just make him as comfortable as possible as he passed away. That was the order written in his Health Care Directive that he placed me as his agent to make sure was carried out.
However I was surprised to hear that he was up in the ICU and not not dead. But when I heard why, I understood totally. When he started to have problems breathing and was basically suffocating he didn't want to die. Which I totally understand. So he canceled the DNR and motioned for them to help him.
So they tubed him and placed him on a ventilator and moved him to the ICU. Sadly though, some of his things were missing such as his favorite MP3 player. So I packed up his things, placed them in the car so nothing else got stolen and then went up to the ICU to see if I could do anything to help make him as comfortable as possible.
Though when I got up there and saw him, I flashed back to Pam with that tube tapped into her mouth and it brought back all those feelings. I did my best to push away those feelings and walked up and took his hand. I found that both his wrists were in white straps restraining his hands to the side's of the bed. That, then triggers flashbacks of being in restraints in the hospital. I refused to let that stop me from being there for him. I know he would do the same if it was me.
That's when the doctor came in and told me what happened. I asked about the restraints and he said they are needed to keep him from pulling out the tube should he wake up at all. Not that he could as they had him on a medication induced coma.
The doctor called down to Sacramento as DJ had been doing tests in the progress to get a double lung transplant. I was driving DJ down to Sacramento about every other month for tests to get him approved for the transplant.
However DJ's doctor in the ICU told me that the doctors in Sacramento never had planned to give him the transplant. Which leaves the only other reason was they were doing the tests. That is to figure out how he made it to 40 without a transplant. Which is pretty screwed up to lead someone on like that. Not to mention the money spent to go down there and back for nothing.
So at that point I had already talked with DJ's family and explained that in DJ's health care directive if he wasn't going to recover, he wanted to be taken off the ventilator. However DJ didn't sign it so the doctors wouldn't honor it. So the doctors pissed us off with what they did next.
Our friend Sarah was in the room sitting with him when she came out saying the doctors were waking him up. But that's not what made me angry. What made me angry is that they woke him up and asked him if he wanted to live. He said yes of course. But he didn't have all the information.
The doctors didn't tell him he would never be able to come off of the ventilator, that Sacramento would never do the transplant, especially now with his lungs as weak as they are now, and didn't tell him how sick he was. All they asked is if he wanted to live and left with a yes answer.
Of course he's going to say yes. If you woke me up and asked me if I wanted to live, I would say yes too. I would assume that since I am waking up, that things must be better. As I am sure he was thinking that everything was going to be ok now. It was wrong to do it like that.
My PC repair books from the online collage finally arrived earlier that week so I sat with DJ in the ICU and studied while watching over him. To make sure he wasn't alone. That was hard for me as I am terrified of hospitals. But I didn't want him to be there alone. So I did my best to deal.
I figured working on my studies would help keep my mind off being in that hospital. It helped but it was still difficult to be there. But I know DJ would face his fears, and do anything if it were me. So I faced my fears and stayed there with him.
They woke him up and few times over the course of the week. But each time they woke him up, it was clear the decline that was taking place. He was up to 25 liters of oxygen and still the lack of oxygen his lungs was able to absorb was showing. At the end of the week he was in the ICU when they would wake him up, he wasn't even able to make a full sentience the brain damage from the lack of oxygen was too severe.
It took them a little over a week of him lingering there to finally go with DJ's wishes and let him go. He didn't have to linger that long. They KNEW he wasn't going to be able to live without the lung transplant, and that he wouldn't ever come off of the ventilator. They should have told him that the first time they woke him up to ask him if he wanted to live.
But thankfully they finally listened to me and his family to let him go, which was his wishes stated in his health care directive anyway. Signed or not, it was his wishes. And it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, making sure his wishes were followed. I can't even tell you how hard it was.
The rest of his family flew out to California the second day he was taken to the ICU. The bright side of the week it took is all his friends and family had time to come. On January 28th everyone came up to his room to be there to help him pass. At 11:00am pacific standard time they removed the ventilator tube and the doctor said "it won't be long now".
In the room was the hospital pastor that had been helping DJ prepare for what he saw coming. Even though we all didn't want to see it. Also in the room was Erik (his foster dad), Joe (his blood brother), his dad (don't remember his name off hand, sorry), Sarah our friend from online, Me and Sandra.
His 2 dad's and brother were standing on his left with their hands on his hand. Sandra sat on the right running her fingers through his hair telling him in his ear that it would be ok. That he could go home (to heaven) now. Trying her best to comfort him. Sarah had his right hand. And I had my hand on DJ's left foot. (wasn't much left to hold as so many people were there).
I was trying to be strong for everyone in the room. It was difficult due to my empathic gift. I was feeling everyone's emotions all at once and it was very difficult keeping it together. Everyone was so upset. So many strong emotions all at once. But at the same time I was letting him know he could go now.
They gave him a bit larger dose of the sleeping medication and hung a bag of Morphine to help with any pain during the passing process. His breathing didn't take long to become labored. Slowly it got less and less deep. The whole time his heart rate dropped with it. Then as he took his last breath, a single tear fell from his right eye. I knew at that moment he was free and on his way home. But it didn't make it any easier for any of us.
It was then that his dad's and brother lost it completely. They all turned away and walked over to the window crying. I don't remember too much more. I kind of went into a emotional overload and just went numb. All I knew is I had to leave. About 20 minutes later I walked Sandra down to the chairs outside the ICU ward door leaving everyone time to say their final goodbye's.
I can't tell you what I was feeling at that moment. I wasn't sure what feelings were mine, and what/how much belonged to everyone else. All I can say is, it was extreme hurt. Which is to be expected losing a loved one.
But at least I could find some comfort knowing he was no longer suffering and was free and back in heaven with his CF (cystic fibrosis) friends he's lost over the years, and other family he lost over the years. At least he wouldn't be suffering anymore. So that I could find comfort in.
Sarah came out shortly after and we went home. That night I self injured like I had never done before. I couldn't take it anymore and needed some relief badly. It made the pain stop, at least for awhile. But I feel it might have made me appear to not care due to the way I don't break down like other's do.
I have never been one to cry. Mostly due to my childhood where my emotions were used as a weapon. So I learned fast not to show emotions. So I often come off cold to those who don't know me. It's not that I don't care, it's I am not used to showing it.