Bring the light.

Yesterday was as bad as it has ever been.
Tuesday was awful, awful.
And the stress took away my humanity.

Yesterday I wouldn't listen to the constant monologue Josh keeps up about what he should have done.
I couldn't even give eye contact.
I was hurt and angry
So angry that he wouldn't take his medication..

We went to the doctors for his 'booking visit' with the practice nurse, a situation that brought up anxiety for him and I hadn't got anything left.

As I sat with him
I ignored him.
I couldn't say anything to him
I'd just had enough and wanted out.

This morning I awoke full of stress.
Belly full of porcupines...

A text from a freind
I stood in the kitchin replying to her as the kettle began to boil..
It dawned on me that if this was a game by the medical team, or even if it isn't a game, the result is that we are focusing on the medication as the most important factor - which is a sensible aim, I agree...

But the result of putting us under stress means that we are forcing Josh to take his medication. And when you understand that he beleives that the SSI will kill him?
So how can he feel safe with us, or safe at home...how the hell is this supposed to work!

How could making the parents become enforcers, going against their son's wishes, going against their own wishes! Help anyone?
And it is so easy to fall for this, so easy to feel that doing what the doctor says is more important than helping my son feel valued, loved...

So I apologized and explained this to Josh...

Meanwhile, don't think that I'm agreeing with him that he is dying, or going along when he says that if only he had got a scan he would know...

I'm a fan of Eric Berne, and basically I explained to Service User that to me it sounds a lot like the brain tumor / dementia is a wooden leg. And that the brain scan is a rickshaw..or platypus, or a girl who spoke ancient Egyptian.

Actually this made him smile.
The sane part of him knows the illness stuff is compelling and brutally true, and yet must be a complete fabrication - because he has been checked out by doctors - I am in no way diminishing how painful his situation must be for him, but I refuse to agree with him that even if he has but one week left to live, talking about how he should have got a brain scan is a pretty poor way to spend the remaining hours of one's life!

As long as someone with a real, exaggerated or even imaginary disability is content with his lot, perhaps no one should interfere. But the moment he presents himself for psychiatric treatment, the question arises if he is using his life to his own best advantage, and if he can rise above his disability. The obverse of "Wooden Leg" is "Rickshaw", with the thesis, "If they only had (rickshaws) (duckbill platypuses) (girls who spoke ancient Egyptian) around this town, I never would have gotten into this mess." From Games People Play by Eric Berne.