- If a stranger on the street came up to me and my child
with a package of cocaine and offered to give my child a free month's supply,
I'd have him arrested. AFTER I beat the living mess out of him. How DARE
someone I don't know offer dangerous, mind altering drugs to my child with
me standing right
- there?
-
- Yet I sat there in that school psychologist's office
when my son was a mere five years old listening to this woman I'd never
met before tell me my son had Attention Deficit Disorder and needed to
be put on Ritalin so that he could concentrate more in class, stop fidgeting
and disrupting.
- I sat forward in my seat, a confused look on my face.
Fidgeting? Disrupting? Lack of concentration? I voiced my concern to the
psychologist that there was a health problem with my son, that two years
earlier he and our family had suffered through a severe toxic poisoning
of carbon monoxide for almost three months that left everyone dazed for
some time afterwards. Perhaps, I told her, he was simply having after effects
of the poisoning and wasn't quite himself yet. I'd already heard from a
neurologist that toxic poisoning can cause possible brain damage, concentration
difficulties and irritability. Could that not be a possibility? Definitely
not, she stated. She had observed Daniel in class many times and he had
all the classic signs of ADHD, and was certain it was Daniel's difficulty.
She said that she had spoken with the teacher and the teacher agreed with
her. No, she said, Daniel needed to be put on Ritalin to control his outbursts
and concentration problems.
-
- She gave me a form she had filled out showing a long
list of symptoms, each with a nasty little checkmark beside it that she
had filled out and signed while observing Daniel, and I was to give it
to the pediatrician when asking for my son to be put on the medication.
- Still skeptical, I didn't make an appointment for my
son right away. I saw no signs of ADHD at home. Yes, he had a temper, but
what child doesn't? Yes, he fought with his brother and sisters. But what
child doesn't? He could sit and watch an entire thirty minutes of cartoons
on Sunday, he could sit and look at a comic book about Spiderman for over
twenty minutes and not make a peep. My son? ADHD?? Not in this lifetime,
I remember thinking.
-
- Two weeks later, the school psychologist called me
at home asking me if I'd had a chance to get to the pediatrician. I told
her I was still thinking about my options.
-
- To this day, I can remember the chill down the back
of my neck when the next words out of her mouth were a stern "Now,
Mrs Rosecrans, refusing to cooperate with the school system is not benefiting
you or your son. We may have to move him to a Special Education class if
you're not willing to put his education first, and in some states that's
considered child abuse." I gripped the phone hard. The mere words
"child abuse" brought on visuals of social service workers poking
through my house, asking me millions of questions about how I fed the children,
how I disciplined the children, forcing me and my husband to take parenting
classes, and the possibility that they could even yank my child out of
my home. I'd seen it happen to others. I'd heard the horror stories at
Head Start a year earlier from other parents who dared go against the school.
I was TERRIFIED. Just the mere thought of my little boy's face laying on
a bed in some foster home crying because Mommy wasn't there filled my eyes
with tears instantly.
-
- I choked out quietly that I would speak to the pediatrician
as soon as possible. Satisfied, the psychologist let me go. I sent a letter
to the school the very next morning confirming that I would do as I was
asked and take Daniel to the pediatrician for a checkup and possible medication.
-
- Once again, though, a few days later, the horrors of
pumping my child with medications without a full research into other possibilities
scared me worse. So I began my own research into brain injury due to toxic
poisonings, near drownings and asphyxiation. Sure enough, my son had symptoms
related to brain injury, and we already suspected his father had possible
brain injury as well.
-
- Not even two weeks after the call, I got a letter from
my son's teacher, stating that she had received my note about taking my
son to the doctor and seeking advice on medications, and that she had not
heard anything about it yet and needed to know more. I felt pushed again.
I called my son's teacher, who told me that since the school psychologist
who was trained to recognize ADHD stated Daniel was definitely an ADHD
child, he simply had to be placed on medication that would CERTAINLY help
him and help his grades or be placed in a special education class.
-
- Again, I felt severely pressured, the undertones being
"OR WE"RE GOING TO REPORT YOU". So I made an appointment
with my son's pediatrician. Without so much as five minutes alone with
my son, she handed me a prescription for Ritalin, smiled, and told me to
contact her in two weeks to give an update on his progress. Then she simply
left the room.
-
- Fearing reprisal by Child Protective, and after an
assurance from my son's pediatrician that Ritalin was prescribed daily
for thousands of children all over the United States, I reluctantly asked
my baby to put medication in his mouth and tiny body that was made from
a derivative of cocaine. No information from the doctor about side effects,
nor from the pharmacist. Just a cold piece of paper that read like scientific
reports not meant for lay people to understand. Well..that and the words
"Effectiveness in children under the age of 18 has not been established".
-
- Yeah, that one got me scared, but not as scared as having
my son yanked from me. The first two weeks, my son was a zombie. Just what
they wanted, a quiet, compliant child. But there was no warmth there anymore.
No heart. No fire. He didn't even seem like my son anymore. After that,
the symptoms came back, this time with a vengeance. Another drug, Adderal,
was added. Then another, Clonadine. Then the Ritalin was discontinued,
and Wellbutrin added. Adderal removed, Xyprexa added.
-
- It seemed that the more medicine they used, the worse
he got. OH he'd be fine for a few weeks. But then it was like uncaging
a monster. He started screaming. Waking up in the middle of the night hearing
"voices". Psychotic episodes began to get more frequent. He had
intense rage episodes brought on by nothing, destroying furniture and trying
to kill himself and others.
-
- Finally, I removed my son from all medications. During
the withdrawal, my son got worse. His father was going through the same
thing, and suddenly I have a knock on my door from Social Services, stating
my son has reported being belted by his father and that my son is not on
medications as he is supposed to be. OH MY LORD, I thought, I"VE BEEN
REPORTED FOR CHILD ABUSE!!!
-
- A check of everything from our bedrooms, our bathrooms,
even to our closets and refrigerators left them satisfied that my kids
were at least healthy and happy, but they were concerned about the medicine
situation. I told the workers that I felt my son was being harmed by it.
They said I needed counseling and that they would be back in touch.
-
- Fearing the worse, I packed up my two boys and left
the state. Situations had already gotten so bad between their father and
I we could no longer hold a decent conversation without either him or our
son losing their temper and going into a rage. There was no more marriage.
All my energy had been focused on a child who was threatening death and
a husband that fed off my son's anger with his own.
-
- Once I got to New Mexico, and my son off the drugs,
he seemed to calm some. Even start showing signs of the sweet, funny, delightful
little boy I knew I'd given birth to. After a month or so, it became obvious
to me that my marriage was over. I wanted my two girls who I had left in
New York with their father and grandmother to be with me. So a nasty custody
battle ensued, with Child Protective, this time in New Mexico, combing
every inch of my house to assure the children were safe.
-
- Daniel again started having difficulties in school,
unable to concentrate, and fidgety. Again, the same nightmare. Yet this
school system was contacted by Child Protective in NY who advised them
that my son should have been on medications, and again I was immediately
pushed into drugging my son.
-
- The strain was simply too much for the little fellow
and he ended up in a psychiatric hospital for a few weeks to gain control
of his emotions, brought on I suspected, by the new drug they had him on.
SEREQUEL, a wonder drug, I was told.
-
- Since my son was in the hospital and I was unable to
attend the child custody hearing in New York, I lost custody of my precious
babies. Their father, accused of child abuse by me and by Child Protective,
was given custody of my children simply because I could not be there due
to my son's emergency hospitalization by a judge who never met me, never
heard my side, and never gave me a chance to reschedule.
-
- Five agonizing months later, I was given custody back
of my children due to their father's inability to control Daniel and happily
took them back to New Mexico.
-
- Once I got my son back to New Mexico, I found out another
psychiatrist had agreed my son was ADHD and had put him on Tegretol and
Clonipine.
-
- I immediately removed the medicine and it brought out
rage episodes while my son was detoxing from its effects. By this time,
my son had several "labels" by different doctors, psychiatrists
and psychologists. The main one being ADHD. They added Bipolar, ODD, IDS,
and even Learning Disorder, completely ignoring my pleas that the child
be checking for brain injury due to the carbon monoxide poisoning. They
all seemed certain that my son was indeed ADHD and no one wanted to buck
the trend.
-
- Finally worn out from fighting Child Protective and
school systems in two states, I felt myself wearing down, near to collapse.
I moved me and my four children across country to Atlanta, Georgia to be
with my mom and get her help. I had figured that if I said NOTHING to the
schools, simply put my son in the age appropriate classes and show him
security, love and affection, he'd do much better. I'd also made a promise
to myself to find the best neurologist in the area and get his brain checked
for damage.
-
- When the records arrived from the other state, my son
was instantly labeled "ADHD" by the school system, yanked from
his normal class and put in Special Education. Once again Child Protective
from THIS state came out to the house to demand I let them investigate
to make sure the family was safe. They demanded I follow the instructions
of the school psychiatrist and put my son on Zoloft, Risperdal and Adderal
to control his outbursts, lack of concentration and his ADHD. I felt so
defeated. So abused by three states and their systems put in place to PROTECT
families and children.
-
- Despite everything I had to go through in the last three
years, losing my home, losing my security, having to support four children
on my own financially and emotionally, despite having no social life and
no one to turn to, I was still considering an unfit mother and under Child
Protection once again in a third state, pushing me to medicate my son.
-
- After three more emergency hospitalizations, four
different medications including Depakote, Clonadine and Neurontin, trying
to convince dozens of teachers, psychiatrists and psychologists that my
son had possible brain injury and NOT ADHD, after losing every dime I had
taking care of four children with no child support, after months of research
into brain injured children, I gave up. I knew I had to move my children
back to the State of New York where my ex husband would be forced to help
me take care of their financial needs, their health needs, and their emotional
needs. So back to NY we went.
-
- Immediately, I was placed back on Child Protective
with the local county. Almost as fast, my son again started having psychotic
episodes that forced hospitalizations, one in a hospital over 80 miles
away due to, I was convinced, OVERMEDICATION.
-
- I continued my research into brain injury and made
my thoughts known to the psychiatrist on staff at the hospital my son was
taken to, who dismissed it as ridiculous. At that center, he was abused,
forced to wipe with shower curtains, locked in time out rooms until he
wet his pants, given shots of Thorazaine along with doses of Benedryl by
an undertrained staff to shut him up. After my complaints went unnoticed,
I complained to the Office of Mental Health, who did a surprise inspection
on the site, and found all the atrocities I and other parents had complained
about and immediately forced the center to stop accepting children until
the difficulties were resolved.
-
- Three weeks of living hell for my baby, who by this
time had been poked, prodded, examined and stolen from his mommy and siblings
over seven times. A child who now longer trusted or wanted to comply with
staff. Placed on Serequel and Neurontin, he became a zombie again.
-
- Seeing my son on a visit that day suddenly made me
ANGRY. AND I MEAN I GOT MAD. I suddenly found myself demanding my son be
given more attention. Demanding I get to talk to my son more often. Demanding
to see his records, to which I was denied three times by the staff. Demanding
that he be given a brain scan to test for injury before upping the dosage
on his medication. To this day, I still have a recording of the doctor
telling me that a brain scan would never be done at that facility and I
should check into another venue for that, yet refused to decrease my son's
medication for it. I was even told by the staff social worker that Daniel's
problems were EMOTIONAL, caused by parents that were divorced, a mother
that drug them across country three times, and a dysfunctional family life.
I sure chewed her butt out that day, let me tell you. It felt GOOD.
-
- Then the hospital threw my son out after three weeks
because I was getting PUSHY. They claim the insurance company refused to
pay for any further treatment, but the insurance company denied their statements,
saying their own social worker had called to cancel Daniel's treatment.
-
- Three weeks after I weaned my son of yet another drug
cocktail, he began symptoms of withdrawal, became violent. He was taken
from me again and put in a hospital over 3 hours away. My heart still breaks
everytime I imagine that boy's horror in that long ambulance drive taking
him away from mommy again.
-
- There, the doctor listened to what I had to say about
possible brain damage causing difficulties and medications causing symptoms
to worsen. I even mentioned Dr. Gary Sach's report concerning the "kindling
effect" of medications being stronger and stronger until a raging
fire spewed that was nearly uncontrollable.
-
- He was sympathetic, but uninterested. He placed my
son on Zoloft and a week later, I had him back. And again, the same pattern.
Once again, back in my arms, I knew that medication was not working for
my son.
- Yet this time I was under Social Services scrutiny almost
daily, demanding to know whether or not I was giving my son the medication
the doctor had prescribed. By this time, though, years of over-medication
had brought on psychotic episodes and dangerous outbursts.
-
- I contacted KidsPeace in Romulus, NY, who agreed to
accept the child to help me straighten out the medication difficulties,
help me get a brain scan to determine if it was medical or emotional, and
give my son needed counseling and assistance in controlling himself. Seemed
like a WONDERFUL setup. Finally, somebody willing to help me. A facility
willing to listen to ME. The only difficulty was that all entrants had
to be under foster care through Social Services.
-
- Breaking my heart badly, I broke down and asked the
local Social Services to temporarily take custody of my son so that he
could be placed in this residential treatment center to help him detoxify
and learn the real cause of his troubles.
-
- Over 80 miles away, we drove with our son, all of us
crying, and placed our baby in these people's 24 hour care. At first, everything
was great. For three weeks he liked being secure, but the psychiatrist
took him off all other medications and immediately put him on Zoloft and
Risperdal. I spoke with the psychiatrist about my concerns of medications
and why we couldn't try brain scans and therapy.
-
- What a SEVERELY different attitude I got from the day
I signed my son over to these people. Suddenly once again I was told to
mind my own business. That I was a mere mother, not educated in medicine
or children's therapies. I was told that they needed to stabilize him first,
then brain scans would come later.
-
- Heartbroken, and basically told "dont call us,
we'll call you", cut off from my son except for two fifteen minute
calls a week and two visits for a few hours twice a month, I became determined
to find out for myself my rights. I put my full soul and heart into research.
-
- For four months, I spent hours on the computer reading
anything I could about medications, ADHD, Bipolar, therapy, brain injury
and even parental rights. I started getting MADDER. The fight came back.
The determination to be a part of my son's therapy and treatment went to
front burner.
-
- Again, I was met with extreme prejudice. Met with barriers
and statements to stop being so pushy and let them do their jobs. My son
got physically abused and sexually abused at the site. The psychiatrist
REFUSED to remove the Risperdal from my son, but reluctantly removed the
Zoloft after I threatened to drive to the site, find him in his office
and sit on him and force him to read pamphlets stating Zoloft was NOT meant
for children. I was SERIOUS, too, lemme tell you. That tone came through
the phone CLEARLY. After all, THIS IS MY son. NOT Child Protective's. NOT
KidsPeace.
-
- After the Zoloft was removed, he showed a remarkable
difference. It was like night and day. He was suddenly able to participate
in groups more often, enjoying things like reading and TV again, and even
laughing more. To further enforce my rights, I demanded more visitation
rights. Demanded more phone calls. I refused to back down. Daniel started
getting Excellents and Goods instead of Poor and Failing's. I also arranged
for my son to be taken to Syracuse for a proper brain scan thanks to my
ex husband's insurance on my son.
-
- HALLELUIAH, we finally had the proof we needed. My
son was INDEED brain injured as I'd been SCREAMING about to Child Protective,
doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, nosy social workers, undertrained
overworked teachers, neighbors and bus monitors. I was yelling it to ANYONE
that would listen. He was NOT ADHD, OR Bipolar.
-
- I IMMEDIATELY demanded my son be taken OFF all medications
and rely only on therapy and ways to help him. The new staff psychiatrist
refused, stating she needed a full neuropsychiatric workup to prove he
didn't have ADHD. So I set up a full battery of tests through Dr. Thomas
Griffiths of Syracuse, an expert in brain injury.
-
- Sure enough, my son's tests proved that he simply could
not ingest information as quickly as other children due to brain injury,
could not retain that information as easily, and would get frustrated because
he was a gifted child who knew something was wrong.
-
- BINGO. THE PROOF I NEEDED. MY SON WAS NOT ADHD, or
BIPOLAR. I HAPPILY and personally presented that proof to Child Protective,
the staff at KidsPeace (who by now resented my interference with their
program, resented my pushiness to be involved with my son's treatment,
and resented my stern warnings that I would no longer be treated like a
second class citizen.) to neighbors, to anyone in three states that had
EVER given me static about being a lowly mother. I was certain that now
I would finally get the right treatment for my son.
-
- You'd think so, right?: WRONG. The psychiatrist STILL
refused to take my son off the Risperdal, even after a full team meeting
I had to sit through and listen to her tell me and the full staff that
what was WRONG with my son was emotional, that his parent's difficulties
and divorce and instabilities were driving Daniel's emotions, listen to
her state the 'wonderful benefits" of the Risperdal and how Daniel
was doing SO much better on it. With Child Protective listening in on the
phone, I firmly and angrily stated that not only did we have PROOF that
Daniel was a brain injured child and NOT ADHD, we had PROOF that I'd downloaded
and printed out showing the facts that certain medications actually bring
ON psychotic episodes in children. CAUSED aggravations. I had PROOF that
the medicine he was on wasn't even supposed to be USED by children under
18 and PROOF from Daniel's neuropsych reports that he simply couldn't function
in a regular class and needed more one on one, and circumstancial proof
that by removing the Zoloft, Daniel was responding better, not that the
Risperdal was working better.
-
- I laid in to each and every member on that staff that
had given me a stone wall before I got that proof. The last six years of
pain and feeling of uselessness came pouring out and I asserted my rights
as my son's mother. THIS TIME, I knew, I would NOT BACK DOWN.
-
- The psychiatrist held her ground. Risperdal was simply
doing him good. The next thing I have to listen to is her psychologist
partner, a Sigmund Freud wannabe who obviously did not have the research
and background experience I had on the topics of toxic poisoning, brain
injury and ADHD tell me that it was his professional opinion that my son's
brain injury had nothing to do with his outburst, that he'd "studied"
carbon poisoning online and found nothing to tie in Daniel's symptoms with
the actual disease, and that he agreed with the psychiatrist, it was simply
us as parents who failed our son by divorcing, by child abuse and by moving
cross country and that he was going to turn over all the information to
a doctor he knew in Upstate NY that was an expert.
-
- I looked at this Bugs Bunny figure of a staff psychologist
and smirked "Well..you know what? His DOCTOR seems to think he DOES
have brain injury, and those little dark specks on his SPEC scan sure AIN"T
SPIDERWEBS, are they."
-
- Child Protective suddenly became compliant. They backed
me at that meeting. So the psychiatrist agreed reluctantly to remove one
milligram of the four my son was on for a month to see if it made a difference.
Then she had the nerve to tell me that my son would defiantly show signs
of withdrawal and was I prepared to increase the dosage to keep him from
hurting himself or others? I looked at this woman with a disbelief in my
eyes I'm sure she saw, shook my head sadly and said "Hun, what do
you think WITHDRAWAL of drugs IS? OF COURSE he's going to have symptoms.
Like ANY addiction, whether it's alcohol, nicotine or drugs. How ridiculous
can you be?????"
-
- With that, the meeting ended, and once I got home and
had time to think, I called the psychiatrist who REFUSED to read medical
reports, look at proof of brain injury or heed advice from another psychiatrist
who specialized in brain injured children and left a rather harsh message,
stating she had SIX WEEKS to wean my son from the Risperdal or I was coming
in full barrel with a lawyer and a malpractice suit.
-
- The very next day, I was called by Child Protective,
who has now agreed to give me my son back, stating they agreed with me
that I was right all along on my son's actual diagnosis. On that day, I
sat on the floor, unable to answer, phone still in my hand, years of fighting,
years of severe anger outbursts from a child over-medicated and not knowing
why his little body was hurting so bad, missed weeks and weeks of not being
able to hold my baby boy, and years of battling for my rights as the child's
parent, nights and nights of holding a crying child because he didn't know
what was happening, years of struggling just to make ends meet and constantly
worrying about rent, utilities, food, years of research to finally prove
my point all came flooding out, silent tears flowing down my cheeks as
I'd finally, I'd FINALLY won. Or HAD I?
-
- Just earlier that week, I had a note from my youngest
boy's teacher, who stated my little clown could not and would not sit still
in class, and perhaps could benefit from a drug like Ritalin. I busted
out laughing, still holding the phone, not caring if Child Protective heard
or not, and FRANKLY, my dear, I didn't give a damn .
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