For multiple reasons I’ve struggled with my persistent grief today. I apologize in advance to those of you who have lost your children to these diseases in one way or another.
Our 36-year-old son, who has bipolar 1 with psychotic features, lives with us. I think my sadness started while I was putting ornaments on our tree and seeing all the ones with his name written on them. His younger sisters are both married (one with children) and have taken their heirloom ornaments to their homes. I sat through a service at our episcopal church and reflected on how so many of my son’s high school peers are married with active families. Even our associate priest is younger than our son.
Here, at home, my son finally opened a letter from his Medicaid supplemental plan that had been sitting on a table for a week. He saw that the payment for his last psychiatrist appointment was being denied. He was already feeling very depressed and this sent him into a state of agitation even though we promised to call both the insurers and the doctor to get things figured out.
We are thankful my son is with us, that we can help him, and that he qualifies for disability and is compliant with his meds. But my heart is broken for him, day after day, with no end in sight.
Thanks for hearing me out.
Winter in the author’s backyard.