Well, here we are. Almost a year has past since my last update. I don't even know where to begin. Last school year started off badly and went downhill from there. Breanna did not manage the change to second grade well at all. She became increasingly agitated and nervous and eventually got violent at school when provoked. This turned out to be the best thing that could have happened, though, because it forced the school to acknowledge that there was a problem. With the teacher's backing, we were FINALLY able to get a full 1508 Pupil Appraisal evaluation.

Come to find out, Breanna has major learning problems (a common feature of PBD) and was not anywhere near a second grade level. No wonder she was having so much trouble at school!!! Her doctor (the best, most wonderful child psychiatrist anyone could ask for!) got her stabilized on depakote right about the time the school got her into a small class, and the rest of the school year went wonderfully, until the asthma hit. Apparently, the "barky" cough she'd had since early childhood was not a persistent and recurrent version of croup, as her pediatricians had all said. It was ASTHMA. So, late April saw her admitted to the hospital with a severe asthma attack. Can you say "lots of steroids"??

Backing up a tiny bit, around January/February Breanna developed a not-so-common reaction to the Depakote: her white blood cell and platelet counts dropped drastically. So, we were forced to remove the Depakote from her medication regimen. This had been her primary mood stabilizer. Fast-forward to April's asthma attack. In people without mood disorders, steroids are known to cause severe mood swings and personality problems. This effect is magnified many times in a person with a mood disorder like Pediatric Bipolar Disorder. Needless to say, Breanna took a major turn for the worst right about the end of the school year and beginning of the summer.

The Summer from Hell:

 I really wish I was exaggerating, but I am not. The Summer of 2002 was the worst summer of my entire life. Breanna became more and more unstable. Her moods went up and down more than a yo-yo. It was awful...for both me and her. She didn't know how to handle the emotions that ran rampant through her little body. It took everything I had in me to handle the wildness that those emotions evoked in her. By late June, Breanna was too unstable to go to church. The music and crowd was too much for her. By July, going to the store was an ordeal. By August, we couldn't leave the house at all unless it was to go to the doctor. Running to Winn-Dixie for a loaf of bread meant a major panic attack or melt-down that ended up with me carrying my 90 pound daughter to the car like a baby while my 40 pound six year old tried to push the buggy with her brother to the car. Needless to say after the third time this happened we didn't go to the store anymore. It got to where I couldn't even take her outside. She was so hyper and out of control that I couldn't keep her safe even with me standing right there with her.

Now, if you are wondering where her doctors were in all this, they were right there with us. Her psychologist saw us every three weeks and emailed me regularly. Her psychiatrist saw us every other week and did everything in his power to keep her well. By July, they had mentioned that hospitilization might be necessary. In August, they told me that if things didn't turn around soon that we would be forced to hospitalize her. The week before school started, we were on constant ER Watch. What's ER Watch? Well, that's when you have to closely monitor the child for signs that indicate an emergency trip to the nearest psychiatric ER is necessary.

How do you reconcile this with the beautiful face of a 9 year old girl? As a parent, how to you cope with the fact that your child has a major illness that causes severe and frequently misunderstood symptoms? How do you deal with the shame that comes unbidden with the fact that you might have to have your child committed to a psychiatric facility? I wish I had the answers for you. I can only say "You just DO."

The final straw was the start of school. For children with PBD, transitions do not EVER go well. Poor Breanna not only faced a new grade, but a new school and new teachers. It was too much for her to take. On Wednesday, she started melting down. (This involved erratic behavior, hearing voices, and having compulsions that I will not go into here.) By Friday, she was non-functional at home and at school, and inadvertently sent her baby brother to the ER (This was after an emergency phone call to her doctors that ended up with an early-morning Saturday appointment in the New Orleans office.) Saturday morning, she was admitted to the Acute Children's Unit of a local psychiatric facility.

And here we are. It's been 8 days, and she's still there. She might be discharged this week sometime if they can get things under control. I cannot begin to describe the ache that fills your heart when your baby is so far gone that she has to be put somewhere for her own safety. It's a lost and empty feeling that threatens to overwhelm at times. It's a total dichotomous mix of emotions. On one hand, you want your child at home with you, to be there, to take care of her, to love her. On the other hand, you worry about bringing her home too soon. You want to be certain that she's getting better. You want to know that your other children will be safe. You NEED to know that you won't face a repeat of the last few weeks before admission.

So here I sit typing, waiting for my mom to get here so that I can go see my baby during the limited visiting hours. Wish me luck...and I'll try to update this when she comes home.

(update below)

September 3, 2002: Here we are! Home at last!

She is finally home and doing ok on Lithium and Risperdal. I can't describe how good it feels to have our wonderful girl home. I pray it lasts! Thank God for big favors!!!

@>~~