A Mental Health Story:  A wonderful son and friend

It’s been a strange week. It’s a long story that started in November 2015. I think I need to share this because this grown son so handsome and full of imagination and pure love, was a dear friend as well as my first child and son. 

It began on August 17, 1972 early in the morning. My first baby. I was slightly scared. All I remember of 12 hours labor is my husband talking and laughing with the Doctor.  At the time I thought it rude but what did a 22 year old girl know how they were supposed to act!  Anyway I woke the next morning to be in a room with another lady asking for her baby and soon I was asking for mine. 

We didn’t hear anything until the afternoon. In poured the other mothers family pastors and Doctor. They told her her baby had died she started wailing. I began crying thinking that’s what had happened to mine. A nurse came and reassured my baby was fine. I could not really believe it till he was in my arms!  After they took the mother and family out I was panicking. What’s wrong!!!

Thank God he was fine!  They kept him away for 2 days because they had pulled him out with forceps!  His poor head!  I didn’t care and immediately began nursing him…oh what joy!!

I want to record all the beautiful and painful situations of his amazing life. He lived a life of courage and faith fueled with patience and love. It would be too much though. I’m not sure what to highlight. My memories are jumbled. 

A two year getting potty trained while I held a screaming second son. I felt so bad for Philip. He was crying too as I led him to the potty. 

A sweet quiet playing boy. Imagining castles, dragons, and warriors. He made up his own games for his brother Matthew and sister Sarah.  They adored him. 

Then hell came into his and all our lives. His dad stepped out of our lives. 

BAM!  First blow to him that shook him to the core and crippled me emotionally. A trigger for helplessness, so much anger, feelings that came in waves like the pain I now feel.   Philip tried to be strong for me. It was more than he should have to handle. 

Nine long months in Army life and THE BREAK came at 19 years old. 

The next 20+ years we both struggled to survive. Philip began building an imaginary world. He felt whole and strong there. He came back to this world to visit his family but then he would always return often slipping back and forth to talk to us. I joked with him about it this year and he smiled and admitted he did that. I know he really had no control over the voices though. We both came to an understanding within our hearts and knew he would be healed one day. Just not the way it happened!  But do we really ever know “how” or “when”?

He was sent to the ER by ambulance on January 6, 2016 for Renal failure. In the ER while they were getting his blood pressure stabilized and an IV in, I noticed how distended his stomach was and asked a doctor. He ordered an x-Ray and then CT. The bowel empaction was BAD!  

Meeting his doctor from Advanced Rehab And Health Care in Wichita Falls, Tx, was confusing. No one told me he was in renal failure. Not even his doctor. His first question was, “Does he have siblings and where are they?”  Surprising he would ask that. 

Wait! What’s really wrong? He showed me numbers for Philips creatinine in his kidneys. They were too high and the doctor wanted them lowered. Okay, what about the empacked colon??  Oh, he would get a GI doctor for that but he would give him go-lightly. A colon cleanser. 

I won’t go on with each blow by blow for the next ten days which became more nightmarish each day. It’s all in his chart though. They refused him any treatment but the most conservative. 

We know he died of a heart attack but not why?  We, his family and I, want an autopsy. The JP here didn’t get an inquest so his hands were tied. Really??

https://www.gofundme.com/gbkqrdpb

This is the link my son set up if you could help us this week. One week to make a lot of decisions. 

I pray Yahweh our Eliohim will show us His will and way through this. Amen

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