Manic Monday

Midnight, Monday  October 19th, 2015


I didn't drive bat out of hell. I was too scared for that. He was in front of me, he was texting. Other than being tired and falling asleep to fast and too deep sometimes nothing else was wrong. Well. There was still the stutter. The stutter my slick mouth son never had. He didn't talk much. The ride was quiet. With the exception of the phone calls to Carmelo, and Carmen and Christine. I was scared the whole way up, crying and begging God and pleading and cursing the heavens. I didn't know what was wrong with him. But now having him next to me, feeling some measure of control over what I thought I could "fix" I was better. I would get him to my favorite hospital, he would get a script and come home and sleep and I would worry about getting him to agree to come home for good tomorrow.

But that didn't happen.
The ER doctor saw him and ordered an MRI. He took my CT scan report and asked him again if Bacardi was all he drank. "Would you submit to a blood test for drugs?"
"Yes." he said confidently.
Bloods were drawn. Neurology was called.
I fat Jewish doctor with a jacket with overflowing pockets came in fidgeting in his enormous pockets for some cue cards and thick books. He began a series of questions that became annoying really fast.
"What is today's date?"
"Who is the President of the United States?"
"Where are you?"
"What is your name?"
Jason looked at me annoyed with each question.
"I didn't come here b-be-cause I-I I am stupid. I-I-came here -because -I-I have a s-s-tutter."
I was reassured with his demeanor. I was confident it just was his stutter. My pain in the ass son was annoyed. Maybe his tongue broke?
I was still very concerned but I felt ok. We were at one of the best hospitals I knew. J-Lo had her baby there. So far all the tests were coming back negative. He was going to be fine. Whatever it was could be fixed.
Because they couldn't find what "it" was that caused the stutter - they were admitting him. But of course - the room was not ready.
I hated doing it - but I had to get the other kids to school and daycare. "Papi I have to leave you for a little bit. Are you going to be ok? I have to take Sammi to school and Tristan to Tania. I will be back as soon I drop them off, ok?" He nodded. "Are you hungry?" I asked fully expecting to get a grocery list from my usually starving son. "No, I am fine."
I should have known from his answer - something was not right.
I got home in time to get the little ones together and drive from Queens to Brooklyn then back to Long Island to get back to Jason. All the while calling all the important people in our lives to tell them the latest and ask for any help on who or what I should asked to have him checked out with.
By the time I got back to the hospital he still was not assigned the room.
He was relaxed and still texting on his phone. He was annoyed and wanted to leave, but I would not let him. I wanted him to be seen and I wanted an answer.


A room assignment. MRI and a visitor later he was still 100% ok by clinical standards except for the stutter. The neurologist told me he was recommending he be discharged and evaluated for conversion disorder.

The psychiatrist came by and talk to him. He claimed to be a little stress, but after her exam she was convinced it was not conversion disorder.


I KNEW It was not conversion disorder - what the HELL did JASON have to be STRESSED OUT ABOUT? The kid who got anything and everything he wanted. Lived a charmed life and ONLY went to school was so stressed his body was manifesting disorders?!?!?!


Tuesday - was much of the same - the MD was concerned but no test he could give would back up his concern. Neurology who was in charge felt he was good enough to text in bed and ask me for Chipotle he could go home and wait to be treated out-patient.