I rode in the back of the ambulance with Nick to the hospital he was being admitted to. Walking into that place was scary. I can't imagine how all of those kids felt. I proceeded to talk with a lady who was admitting him, I felt like I was signing away my rights to my own son, but I was drained both physically and emotionally and just signed everything she told me to. I just wanted him to get better, that's it, just better.
The "rules" were overwhelming. Just to get in to visit we had to go to the front door and sign in. Then, go around the building to another door and press a buzzer to be let in-through 3 different locked doors. We weren't allowed to bring anything in that wasn't approved, he wasn't allowed to have any staples on his school work, we weren't allowed to have a pen or a cell phone. His shoes couldn't have laces, the bathroom door was always locked. He was literally in lock down, being supervised 24 hours a day.
The look on his face during the time in the hospital is one I will never forget. He was completely miserable. He didn't want anyone to visit him, including his parents. Of course, we ignored that and went anyway. I hated the fact that I couldn't just give him a hug and a kiss to make him feel better like I used to when he was little. It broke my heart seeing him like that. I felt helpless, even though I knew being in the hospital was the best thing for him at the moment, he was alive.
They started him on medication to treat depression, the first of many that would be tried. After 2 weeks of being hospitalized, they said he could go home. He was to start seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist and he was told he could go back to school. I was scared. He was by no means better. He knew that suicide wasn't the answer and he had numbers he could call if he was feeling suicidal, but it was still scary for me having him come home. I had to trust that he would say something if he was feeling suicidal. That was so hard for me.
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