Stupid Comments

Talk about stupid comments. I’m sure most people mean well, but they really don’t know what the heck they are talking about.

Jada had to get labs done to check her Depakote level and a few other things. So there I was sitting at the admitting desk talking to the registration lady. Jada was a little too manic to sit still with me so she was bouncing back and forth between my friend who was in the waiting area and me. Jada told the lady that she sometimes she likes to hit people when she is angry and upset. I was looking at Jada but I can see the lady looking at me with the strangest look ever. Side note: Jada doesn’t often express her thoughts or feelings very often so when she does, I let her talk and I listen. I really don’t care who is around. Any insight I can get into her mind, I do. End side note. So I looked over at the lady who then started back doing what she needed to do. The conversation that took place included the lady asking me if she was good about doing lab work, to which I said yes. The diagnoses code on the lab order said medication management. The lady said something like Jada seems to be a handful. I responded with sometimes she is. Then she said that I have to get a hold on that soon. I was just thinking yeah, okay. I informed the lady that Jada was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and ADHD. She couldn’t believe. She said that Jada seems really smart and that was all it was and that doctors want to put labels on all these kids. Yeah okay woman. There is nothing wrong with her. All seven year old girls punch their sisters all the time. All of them have to get held down so that they don’t break themselves or something else. All seven year old girls talk about killing people, especially their sister just because they can’t cope being in the same room as them. Sure lady. She is the average seven year old girl. Sure, she is just misunderstood. Sure. Okay.

It was a pointless battle.

But thinking about it now, I may have missed an opportunity to be an advocate against the stigma that is associated with childhood mental illness. But then again this particular lady seemed to have her opinions set in stone.

Unless you live it, you can’t fully understand what it feels like to have your precious child say and do such awful things. You can’t imagine the pain of watching one kid take their aggravations out on another and fear that maybe they can’t live under the same roof. You can’t imagine the possibility of having to choose between them. You can’t imagine living each day on the edge of a cliff, always on alert, anticipating your child’s next move. You can’t imagine the dread that medications won’t work and the desperate hope that you have to cling to in order to make it through the day without falling over that cliff.