Tuesday, February 17, 2009

I love you bigger then the moon, bigger then the sun, bigger then the earth......







"I LOVE YOU BIGGER THEN THE MOON, BIGGER THEN THE SUN, BIGGER THEN THE EARTH, BIGGER THEN THE SKY, BIGGER THEN THE UNIVERSE, BIGGER THEN THE ETERNITY......I LOVE YOU MY SON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"That was a little saying I came up with when he was just a little boy. Kevin was and still is my world. A parent has to loosen those apron strings and let their child grow and move on, but nothing can ever severe them and make you feel less love, sadness, shame, sorrow or guilt when it comes to your baby. My hopes for my son is for him to finally realize what a wonderful man he is and that his potential for greatness is only limited by his own fear and lack of self worth and self esteem. I want him to reacquaint himself with his inner happy child and re-grow into that adult he was meant to be. I want him to realize how talented he is and that the world is his to explore!!!!!!!!!This story isn’t really about me it is about my son and his struggle with himself and the domestic violence that we suffered from which still haunts him to this day. What this is about is documenting as much detail as we can so that we can help others to learn from this experience. It is with my sons support and permission that I document what happened with his and my recollections along with my mother and sister as well. I have made this a family project in hopes that we can all learn, heal, grow and teach each other and reach out and teach as many people as we can. I really had this epiphany when this happened over the past week, as I watched my son lose control of his body with fear in his eyes and as tears streamed down his cheeks. This is no longer about me and my story to try to teach others about domestic violence, it is about my sons story and his experience as a child who suffered from domestic violence and how it has affected him and what we can do to help and heal him first and to teach others. It is a two sided issue to be dealt with simultaneously and with his assistance in front or behind the scenes (as so to speak) we are going to get his story out there so hopefully we can help others who suffer from domestic violence. Many have to hear what he witnessed, saw and experienced to understand or get an idea of what he really went through as a young 14 year old boy.
I never thought my poor choice in a man would affect him so badly......I just never imagined it!!! A parent never wants to think a wrong or poor decision they make may affect their child negatively for life. Nor do they ever think their child may hurt others or themselves because of that one poor choice. They would never want to believe children would attempt to kill themselves or actually follow through and succeed with it. I never thought this would be my son. I always thought my being an example of falling down, picking myself back up and over coming any bump in the road would be almost enough. I did try to get him to go to counseling, but he did not want to go and I still could not face the truth about my responsibility in it all. My son suffered immensely and still does to this day.
Anyone who says kids are resilient can only speak for a few, but not all because it is not true for all children. Children are sponges that soak up everything and the negative can have a long lasting horrific affect on them. Such a horrific affect that they are not able to overcome what haunts them by mere parental examples of strength and perseverance. Some children who have are traumatized deeply can carry the residual effects for the remainder of their lives. They will most times remember details a parent did not remember. They will suffer in more ways than any adult will ever suffer. They will hold inside the resentment, anger, frustration, fear, guilt, low self worth and self-esteem for many, many, many years. Counseling is the first step and making them go is key, regardless if they resist. Make them go and work it out, it is the only way to help them and give them a fighting chance, or else they could end up like my son.

On December 31st at about 11:30 I got a call from my mother who asked if my sister Robin or Joanne called me (my son’s 44 year old girlfriend). First, I have to say when the phone rang that late my first gut reaction was that it was about my son. Then I saw my mother’s number and the time she was calling and knew it was not good. I said, "Now what is wrong" and she said he is being rushed to the hospital he is non-responsive. My heart and stomach just sank. I told her I was on my way. It took me a few minutes to catch my bearings, and then I called Abe (my boyfriend) at work and told him.
I called my mom on the way to Flint to get an update and she stated Kevin overdosed on Benadryl and alcohol. I arrived at the Hospital and met my mom and my sister in the ER waiting room. They both filled me in on more of the story when I arrived. As we sat in the waiting room my sister recalled the experience and stated she went to my son’s house and met with the officer, she had arrived before the ambulance. Robin said Kevin recognized her and was asking for me. They told me he became very combative and belligerent in the ambulance. Finally, the staff let back into the ER to see my son and I could see he was high, very drunk and his body was in distress. He was cussing at the nurses calling them "bitches" and "hoes." Nothing I said could shut him up. He told my mother and me in his drunken state that he took a bottle of Dramamine and had alot of Jagermeister to drink along with numerous shots of alcohol and an unknown amount of beer. He said he took the Dramamine to forget everything bad. I asked him where the alcohol came from and he stated his girlfriend Joanne got it for him and her 18-year-old daughter’s party. My son is not yet 21 either, so why would she buy alcohol for under age kids? He stated that Shantelle's male friend gave him the Dramamine, however, the dosage changed from a whole bottle to seven to twenty. It is still unknown how much he took and regardless his blood alcohol level was .150 and he tested positive for Dramamine in his system. I would like to go back and ask what the level of Dramamine in his system was.

My mother and sister left for home while I continued to stay with him. Two minutes after my mom and sister left, he asked where they were. I said grandma was just standing next to you two minutes ago do you remember? He said no. I asked “do you remember your aunt being here?” and he said yes. Then two minutes later, he asked where his aunt was, I said she went home do you remember her telling you goodbye? He said no. I sat with him making him drink the charcoal. He fought it all the way trying to get me to put it in the garbage and lie for him. I would not do it. Both my mother and I (before she left) told him “this is what you get for being stupid and making the choice to drink and OD on Dramamine.” He did not argue with us too much. The only time he became belligerent was when it came to the medical staff. He did not like the nurses who he stated made fun of him when he first arrived. The whole time I was there with him his eyes would roll to the back of his head, and he would slump over. I would touch his hand or face and tell him to wake up. He would be startled awake. He wanted an anxiety pill still after all that had happened. He complained of his heart beating too fast and that he did not feel well. His eyes always rolling to the back of his head and then he would slip away. I would call for him to awaken again. I was so afraid, and it hurt to see my son in this condition. My heart just crumbled and bled for my baby. God what did I do? I could not help to think that this was my entire fault. That poor decision in a man all those years ago did this. I failed to protect my son and I definitely dropped the ball as his mother. Why did I not see it coming? For goodness sake, I had served as a domestic violence officer for the department I was working for at the time. I used to tell victims what signs to watch out for, but I was to blind to see them myself! Now, my son is dealing with the aftermath of emotions in a way that will destroy him or kill him if he doesn’t get the necessary help he needs right now.

He continued to be loud and obnoxious even when the doctor came in to see him. The doctor told Kevin they were going to admit him into the hospital. I guess him having to drink the huge glass of charcoal was not enough of a clue for him. He became belligerent and loud demanding to go home, who were we to tell him he had to stay and could not leave. It got worse when the nurse, who had already called security, came in. I have to interject to say when he arrived he was placed in soft restraints which he busted out of himself. Then all holy hell broke loose, his emotions started raging and his lips started flapping, I could barely keep up with all things he was saying. He told the nurse to “get the fuck out of his room” if she could not say anything he wanted to hear. He called her a "cunt" and that was it for me. I am a mother first, I grabbed his face and squeezed it like we do when they are young and told him never to call another women that name again. You know that boy (man) grabbed my arm. I was like “oh no you don't, what do you think you’re doing?” The nurse said security was already coming. He had a good grip and was very strong. I knew they were in for a fight as I stepped back, he did not disappoint anyone if they were looking for something exciting to happen in the ER.

Security arrived and I stepped out. He was calling five nurses, two old security guards and a doctor “fat bitches” and “hoes” that needed Jenny Craig. I asked them if they needed my help and they said no. He told the security guard “you can't hold me down; you’re not stronger than me.” He shot straight up and that was it. The doctor grabbed my son by the neck and head and forced him back down to the bed. He was spitting at everyone and trying to bite him or her. They placed a mask over his face. They told me to get out but I sat right there. I did not say a word nor argue with them. I wanted to stay for my son, I know things can get out of hand when people start taking things personal even though my son was not in his right mind and it was the drugs and alcohol talking. Just to know that my son could be that disrespectful and violent was scary and disappointing. Alcohol is, sometimes, called the truth serum; I have seen for myself that is what my son is like when he loses control. He screamed for me repeatedly. I peeked through the back of the curtain and he caught a glimpse of me. He screamed I see you mom come in here, I seen you behind the curtain. The team finally had him in four point leather restraints that he still tried to get out of those. I quietly sat outside of his room. The female doctor then said I could go sit with, but, not to argue with, him. I do not argue with my son, I just do not mince words or put up with his shit. I will not sugar coat things with him. It was not the time to do that. Well, I sat there and was quiet. I spoke to him quietly telling him to lower his voice. I knew that he would not quit and I had to do what I hated to do. I had to leave. It broke my heart and I could not hardly bare to do it. I left and went to the nurses’ desk. I gave them my number to call me if anything happened. As I walked past him he said that's right mom go back to the ghetto of Detroit. I just replied, "I love you Kevin." That is all I could say.

The next day I arrived with very little sleep. My sister said he was awake and doing well. He was tired but a little out of it. He was not hungry. This was my son later that day on January 1st, 2009. He was wide-awake that evening when only 12 hours early he was violent, combative, loud and obnoxious and strapped down to a bed with leather restraints. By that evening, he was talking to me; he apologized and looked at his new phone I had gotten him for Christmas. I left that evening thanking GOD he was ok and had survived the ordeal and the narrow escape of death. I decided to go home, work the next day, and go back to the hospital after work. My sister was going to get up and meet the doctor at the hospital early in the morning. My son lives near Flint with his girlfriend near my sister. I live an hour away in Detroit.

I made it to work that morning on time even though I was so very tired. I was sitting at the ER security desk (yes I work at a hospital)waiting to call my sister to see what the doctor said when she called me stating the doctor ordered a CAT Scan because my son was showing signs of seizing. I left work immediately and arrived at the hospital to find my son sleeping. He looked swollen, but peaceful. He had already had a few little seizures, but came out of them resting looking like he was only sleeping normally.
I sat by his side as the day past along with my sister. About two o’clock Kevin’s girlfriend arrived with her daughter. That visit did not last long because my sister’s anger got the better of her and she bickered back and forth with his girlfriend. My sister grilled her as she stood and tried to defend herself. Most of what she said made no sense and I chimed in a few times asking who bought the alcohol for the party and how did he get the Benadryl? Joanne stated she knew nothing about the party that she was asleep at the house. She said she did not know about the Benadryl either until he appeared non-responsive. Shantelle stated her (unknown) friend bought the alcohol and no one gave him any Benadryl. Kevin’s story from the first night did not match theirs so mine and my sisters’ suspicions, as well as, our anger grew. Next they said the lady that works at the party store bought the alcohol. The story changed constantly but Joanne, Shantelle and Kevin stated everyone had been drinking and were all drunk. The party split up (according to Joanne and Shantelle) because Shantelle told Kevin he had enough to drink and that he was ruining her party. Both she and her mother stated Kevin became confrontational and started to fight Shantelle. Somewhere in the midst of all this Kevin or Shantelle was hit with a glass bottle over his/her, head and Joanne stated she awoke to the fighting and got between them. That is when the story took another twist and did not make sense. Joanne stated she took all the booze away and locked it up. She also said she knew nothing about the party that took place in her home while she slept right up the stairs. Joanne stated Kevin disappeared to an unknown place and she could not find him after she kicked every one out of the apartment. Joanne stated that she thought Kevin left and locked all the doors. Joanne stated she thought Kevin walked to my moms, but she knew my mom moved back home further away and he would not walk that far in the freezing cold with no coat and drunk like that. Well it is more like a duplex so how could she not find him? There are not many places for someone to hide that is passed out so how do you lose a drunken man in a small place? Kevin had stated the first night in the hospital ER he stayed in the apartment and stated Shantelle‘s male friend gave him the Benadryl/Dramamine (they are the same thing) after the fight. HUH!!!!! Why would someone give Kevin a copious amount of Dramamine when he was obviously drunk? Why would anyone give a drunken man or even a sober one for that matter an amount over the recommended dose that was enough for him to overdose and possibly die? It just happened to be after Kevin got into it physically with Shantelle, after Shantelle left a creepy message on Kevin's my space page to "fucking run" back in November of 2008, after he allegedly got into it physically with her mother and allegedly stole from them. (This is my son and I love him but I believe they are telling the truth about his violent temper and stealing) Joanne stated she kicked everyone out of the house. Her daughter went with her friends. They were all drunk and someone had to drive. Now why did she kick a bunch of drunken kids out of the house to drive away, to calm the house down? I thought, huh that was a whole different version then what Kevin told me. I still do not believe a word that came out of her daughters or her mouth. After all, instead of calling 911 because my son was unresponsive she called my mother TWICE, before finally dialing 911. That was only because my mom screamed at her to call 911. At the time I could not feel anything but fear of losing my son and needing to care for him. I later became angry with her after I replayed all the conversations in my head. Why would you wait to call 911 for someone who is nonresponsive? That alone does not make sense, nor did her answer. Joanne said she did not call 911 because she thought Kevin had a warrant and thought police would have arrested him if they came to her home. First, it did not matter if he had a warrant; the police would not arrest him during a medical emergency. Second, he had no warrant. Third, I believe she was afraid she would get in trouble with all the underage drinkers in the house. Fourth, ironically she used to be a sheriff’s deputy before she became ill so she knew the laws, rules and regulations and no officers would make an arrest when he was not responsive and barely breathing. Nothing she said made sense.The argument must have been stressful for him because that is when I saw his first seizure. I saw his leg shaking and I thought he was annoyed with them arguing. Then I saw his face and thought he was smirking like a smart ass so I told him he wasn't sleeping and to answer the question. His girlfriend stated he was smiling and I looked closer because he was not answering me. I got up from my chair at the end of his bed and went right to his face. What I saw sent my heart racing and my stomach queasy. He had a cemented permanent smile on his face that would not go away and his eyes were slit open. The fixed smile reminded me of the exaggerated smile on the “Jokers” face (played by Jack Nicholson) from the movie “Batman.” I said he's seizing and my sister jumped up and got some water on a cloth. His girlfriend and her 18-year-old daughter stood there in tears. I ran and got a doctor/resident who retrieved his nurse. We moved chairs and tables to make room for ourselves and scooted his girlfriend and her daughter out the door out of the way. All we could do is talk to him and try to make him comfortable there was no medication that could help him at this point. My sister and I (unbeknownst to each other) had asked the nurse to have his girlfriend leave and make it family only. I wanted it to be calm and having them there was not a good idea.

My mom and aunt arrived later that afternoon and watched the seizures continue all day. They never really dissipated at all. We all took turns keeping his head cooled off with wet wash clothes and massaged his body because all his muscles were contorted and stiff. He cried from the fear and the pain it caused. His boss arrived that afternoon to visit as well which made my son happy. He could not speak; he only grunted uhhuh and “ehehuh.” He could not even swallow during the seizures so we had to keep suctioning his mouth out. I felt so bad because I knew he must have been thirsty, but he was having trouble even swallowing his saliva. My sister, mother and aunt all left around eight p.m. Kevin’s girlfriend had called Kevin’s father earlier during the day attempting to gain an ally so she could come back to visit. It worked because his father called me and asked to let her see him for an hour. I said ok but he was going to have to listen to the whole story later and understand why we made her leave. I do not think he thought it was a fair trade, but he had no choice. Finally, around nine thirty p.m. when everyone left and the lights were turned out he fell asleep and the seizures were gone. As if by magic, as quick as they came, they were gone. I knew nothing about overdose reaction seizures and still had no clue until the midnight nurse came in and spoke to me. Todd was very informative and helpful. He probably thought I was crazy, not for staying with my son all night, but for seeing a grown women curled up (and uncomfortable) in a hospital chair all night at her sons beside, refusing to leave no matter how uncomfortable I was when the waiting room was down the hall with comfortable couches. Then again most any mother would do the same.

The next day I told my son about his behavior in the ER and he was mortified. I told him the security guard had passed his room and asked if he was the same young man that was in the ER on New Year’s Eve. I said yes sir and the security guard expressed his sadness by what Kevin was going through. The next day Kevin’s dad came to visit him. I had not seen him in years and he looked pretty much the same. More wrinkles, less hair and the same “I love me and the way I look” attitude. Regardless, the man loves his son and I do not ever remember him ever shedding a tear in the 21 years that I have known him, then the night I called him and told him his son was the hospital because he overdosed. I could hear the hurt, pain, anger and fear in his shaky voice all at once. I hope that Kevin moves in with his dad in the future, they need each other whether they know it or not. It is just not in my sons plans right now.
During the hospital stay, my son let me take pictures of him. I now wish I could of gotten pictures on the first day, however, I did not think about it then. I wanted my son to see for himself, and both of us want everyone to see what a possible outcome is of a child who suffers from domestic violence and the aftermath of emotions. Every child is different and children’s reactions vary along with how they live the rest of their lives. My son is just one of many that were not able to come out of it and live a life without suffering the negative consequences.Kevin was released that Sunday evening and he went back home with his girlfriend. He promised to get the drug and psychiatric counseling. He went to some narcotics anonymous classes on his own, but that did not last and he has yet to get any counseling. Before he left, Kevin saw the security guard in the hall and got up out of bed, shook his hand and apologized. Now, I know that Kevin. He will be all right because he has my genes so I know he will not give up and will fight to overcome his problems. We have the best family who stick by each other no matter what.....we also do a lot of praying as a family, something that has been passed down from generation to generation.
Posted by Tracie Dawn at 8:55 PM
Posted by at No comments:
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)