August 8, 2010 – 11:00 a.m.
My husband and I are left staring at each other, at a loss for words, trying to grasp what we have just been told. I type schizophrenia into Google on my phone – but at first I can’t spell it. Google helps me and I scan the results, looking for something that will tell me he can have a normal life, even as a schizophrenic. What I find is less than reassuring. We wait for Scott to be returned and when he is, we try to act calm and normal.
His ER nurse is sweet and well intentioned. She is also very pretty. She has a name like Mindy or Candy. I see an article on the wall that mentions her and her “high-energy competency in the pressure cooker setting of the ER”. I’m glad that they apparently have good nurses at this hospital, since so far I have been completely underwhelmed by the doctor in every way.
As it turns out, Scott thinks that this trip to the ER is a ploy that we (or somebody) cooked up so that he could get laid by a nurse. God knows what type of things he has said to her when she escorted him off for an interview ‘in private’. Since Scott is over 18, they keep taking him away from us to question him. This makes us very uncomfortable since clearly Scott is not is his right mind, and we are not feeling very reassured by the medical staff and their decision-making.
Given that our pediatrician is on staff at this hospital and will no doubt have to work again with this doctor, it is wonderful and amazing that he cares enough to have taken these steps to make our lives and Scott’s experience slightly better.
He speaks with us out of earshot of Scott, and cautions us to take the situation very seriously. We must remove all things that he could use to harm either himself or us. Kitchen knives, scissors, pills … Even these words of gloom do not dampen our relief at getting away from this ER and being able to take Scott home.