That’s the total number of days between the date my son was first prescribed psychiatric medication and today. In those days the type of medication has changed 3 times and the dosages have been adjusted 7 times. And today, on day 377, the psychiatrist sat across the desk from us and told us that he thinks the current medication combinations and dosages are solid. We’ve hit the sweet spot of “maintenance dose”.
Our decision to medicate is not something I have talked or written about very much. The path that finally led us to the our son’s psychiatrist and that first dose of medication 377 days ago, was long and twisted. Some parenting decisions are easy and clear-cut. The decision to medicate was not one of those.
While I am fairly open on the blog and in person about our story, I am careful to not over share. Specifically I leave out the parts of the story that are too raw or personal. Truly that means I often leave out the specifics of behavior and the grittiest of the details. These are the things that if you have not lived through, you may not even be able to imagine or consider as possibilities. Leaving out those details is necessary to maintain some dignity for the people involved, but it also means most of the world is only getting a portion of the story. It is challenging to talk about the “how” we got the decision to medicate, while also maintaining that balance of not over sharing. But perhaps by sharing even a part of this yet untold story, those who do find their family in a similar situation can read enough between the lines to know they are not alone in the difficult decision of to medicate, or not.
I can’t really put my finger on the why of this – but for a long time I was staunchly against medication. I absolutely had concerns about side effects, and although I never articulated it I also had concerns about stigma associated with medication. I was willing to try any other possible intervention – counseling, behavioral therapy, diet and routine changes, homeopathic and alternative therapies. And we did try them all. We exhausted all the other possible interventions. But none of them made a dent in the problem. In fact, in the time we were cycling through my “anything but medication” approach, our family became hostage to my son’s increasing anxiety and depression and the behaviors that accompanied the anxiety and depression.
By the time we made the decision to medicate (actually by the time I finally got there, my husband was ready months before I was), the anxiety had eroded the joy my son once exuded. His anxiety was so high and so persistent that he was barely able to function in the world. The behaviors that accompanied that anxiety were holding our family hostage. He was in pain and in crisis, but we all were suffering.
I can recall with absolute clarity the moment I knew I was wrong and that medication was a necessity. It was the day he had a panic attack so debilitating he sank to the floor in the middle of a group of people at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. The site of him shaking and crying on that floor is an image that will never leave me. So by the time we met the man who would become our son’s psychiatrist 2 weeks later, when he asked if we would consider medication my answer was an emphatic yes.
And so 377 days ago he started medication. 377 days ago he would not look at the psychiatrist, let alone speak to him. Today as we sat in the psychiatrist’s office, my son looked him the eye and was (mostly) able to answer questions about how he is feeling and what he is thinking. He even laughed at one point, and was clearly excited and hopeful as he talked about the summer camp he will attend this year. He was a completely different kid sitting in that room today, than he was 377 days ago. So much of that can be attributed to the medication.
And so we have reached a “maintenance dose” – for now at least. He will grow and his hormones will kick in – both can wreak havoc with the delicate balance the medications provide. Or some yet unknown and unforeseen life change could amp his anxiety levels – that could also wreak havoc with the delicate balance the medications provide. I still worry about potential longterm side effects, but 377 days into this particular part of our journey I do not doubt that medication was and continues to be a necessity. The medications do not provide a cure, nor are they absolute. They do help to create the space for him to learn to handle the world. They do establish enough balance for him to engage with the world on his own terms. And they have brought enough peace that there is joy once again in his eyes and in his laugh. And for that I am thankful.