I had finally surrendered to getting a meds evaluation for Michael. I committed to going to the appointment. I committed to actually talking to the doctor about my son. That was so hard though. I wanted natural. I wanted connection with the planet and each other. I wanted peace. I wanted dark chocolate with a cup of hot tea. I wanted people to stand up for justice when needed. I did not want meds. At all.
I went to see the doctor for my initial meeting.
In times like these, I need to dress accordingly. I am about to do something I don’t want to do. I’m about to do something, feeling completely alone. I need support and I don’t feel like I have any at this moment. I need to be a Badass. That means I wear my tight jeans ($1.50 Salvation Army, half price Wednesday), a tight black tank top, three-inch silver hoop earrings, three-inch black clogs, black eyeliner, and dark lipstick. The black eyeliner was not the best choice, because going to a meds doctor when you have to explain that you need meds for your son and absolutely do NOT want them means you’re probably going to cry . . . but black eyeliner was a must nonetheless.
I started with the truth (seems like the best place, right?). I know that I speak with my hands, with lots of expression. By the time I was done explaining the sides of this dilemma, first one side (left arm flung wide) and then the other (right arm flung wide), both my hands were flailing wildly and my head was hung between my legs. Here’s what I explained:
~ I have made two other appointments with meds doctors and canceled them both.
~ I do not want to engage in chemical warfare in my son’s body (nothing like dramatic language to get my point across).
~ I heard about you and have committed to this appointment.
~ I don’t fucking want to be here.
~ I feel like you’ve got two choices to offer me.
- You’ll recommend I don’t give meds to my son. I have been fighting for this answer and don’t feel like it’s a viable option anymore.
- You’ll recommend I give my son meds and I adamantly do not want to commit chemical warfare on my child’s body. Right now, though, I don’t feel like I can say no to putting my son on meds without taking away the threat of physically harming him.
~ I don’t want any answer you’ve got. So let’s start there.
He took me in stride for sure. How could he not after I dramatically explained my absolute desperation and how I am in his office and I’m essentially handing my life (that feels completely unmanageable to me) over to him. In his very grandfatherly, gentle, calm manner, he explained that we would start with what was going on. Then he would determine his recommendation based on whether or not he would give the meds to his grandson. If he would, then he’d recommend them for my son. At that point I could make a decision.
In that moment, though, I was still free of information and judgment and didn’t quite have to jump to where I figured I was heading next.