My story began in 1984 when my son was born with his heart backwards. After four months, open heart surgery, and a stroke which showed no damage, we came home with the love of my life. All was well. Then my son stopped learning at about age four. At about age seven, he started to see things that weren’t there.
My son was diagnosed with OCD when he went to a children’s hospital for an extended stay. They gave him play corn for being good. I could only see him for a short time in the evenings. He’d never been away from us before. I stood it for a week and I made the doctors mad but we took him home.
He started special education but that didn’t last long. The teachers said he tried to stab another child with a pencil. Then he was home schooled. The teacher came by maybe 30 minutes on Fridays. So my son stayed home with me and played with art dust. If not doing that, he sat on the floor and played with his hands. When he got older and tried to start high school, they told him he would have to stay in a one-room special ed class.
We left our home that was paid for, and moved 50 miles to find a high school our son could attend. He’s 34 now and has had one run-in with the law. He spent a week in a behavior center. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder. We moved from Texas to northern California to be near my older son so he could help us with his brother. We took him to Stanford Hospital to check his data and to see what’s really wrong with him.
Sorry for my going on and on. My husband will be 80 years old tomorrow and I am 71. We are so tired.