The Po Show

Phone Call

I still can't believe it. My brother called me on the phone yesterday!

I was folding laundry and the phone rang and I picked it up and this male voice said, "Hi, I'm back." I couldn't think of who the hell it was. "Hello?," I said.

"Hello, I'm back," he answered. I paused, because I was thinking it was Ross' dad, but couldn't figure out why he was telling me he was back. Was he saying he was back in Minnesota? Because I thought he hadn't left yet?

"Oh, how are you?," I finally said, getting ready to pass the phone to Ross. But then the voice said, "Hello? Can you hear me?" And I realized, oh my god, it's Kaz!

I sprinted to another room where I could hear better, and effusively told him how great it was to hear his voice. He said he was feeling a lot better. My mom told me last Tuesday that he'd had a shunt put in his head last week, because the rehab center doctors felt he wasn't progressing as well as he should be, and he was still so tired all the time and getting frustrated with his lack of improvement. I commented on that now, that I'd heard he'd had a procedure.

He said that the procedure had really helped, that it was like night and day. He had so much of his memory back, and he could talk so much better. I was getting overly effusive, and realize now that I was practically shouting into the phone at him, but I tried to say how excited I was to hear him sound so great, that when I was there he'd been talking, and that was great because everyone had said that he hadn't really been talking before I came, but that he hadn't sounded like himself, that it was like there had been a curtain down in front of him, and I was so happy to hear him sounding so much more like himself now.

I think my verbal deluge overwhelmed him a bit, since he said, "Okay, well I was feeling better so I just thought I'd give you a call." And I told him to take care, and that it had been great to hear his voice. And it really was.

After I got off the phone, Ross commented that it was probably the first time my brother had ever called me just to say hi. It was. We've never had a chatty relationship at all. He called me when my mom had her surgery to remove her colon, to tell me she was doing okay. He would call me at my mom's place when we were staying there to tell me he was bringing over something, or that he wanted me to get something ready for him to pick up. But he had never called just to chat.

I'm really amazed and exhilarated that he did.

Troubled Kids

Getting away from the global levels of responsibility I talked about yesterday, I turn to my own backyard. I know who I am directly responsible for, and that's my kids.

Mental illness is not exactly in the same ballpark as neurological disorder, but a lot of the issues are the same. And maybe telling ourselves that having a kid with a neurological disorder somehow isn't as "bad" as having a kid with a mental illness is really just another defensive mechanism, yet another example of how parents deal with stigma and guilt and despair.

In a lot of ways, dealing with Matthew's problems today feels a lot like dealing with the problems he had when he was 2. I said back then, nothing is worse than being the mom of the kid who hits. You constantly have to apologize to other moms, who try to be nice and say it's okay, while they hold their crying kids and try not to glare at your kid, who made them cry. You constantly have to be vigilant when your kid is playing with other kids, constantly shadow and watch, to make sure that in the midst of simple interaction, some tiny occurrance, some inadvertent bump or tussle over toys, doesn't result in your kid taking a swing at another kid. It's constant worry, and anxiety, every time you are in a social situation with a lot of kids and a lot of noise, that it's all going to end in disaster and you having to leave early, more apologies in your wake.

I still feel that anxiety, because I never know. Things were really good for awhile, like most of last year, but this year has been brutal. These days, I never know when I go to pick the kids up in the cafeteria after school, if Matthew is already in the office with the assistant principal, after having gotten in trouble again. Yesterday I waited, and he never came out, and finally a couple of kids from his class told me he was coming down with his teacher because he'd hit a girl in the dismissal line. I talked to his teacher, and we worked out a plan in which Matthew would always be at the front or end of the line, to minimize other kids bumping into him and causing his reactive lashing out. So that was good. But it's relentless, this needing to deal with problems. I'm always afraid of him causing more trouble, though I know it's not his fault.

What about parents of kids with really profound problems? If I feel guilty and anxious because of the disruptions my Aspie kid causes at school, what do parents of really disturbed kids go through?

I can't stop thinking of Cho Seung-Hui's parents. There are absolutely no reports of them, which makes me think they totally went underground after his attack. I've read so many reports of how Koreans, both Korean-Americans and Koreans in Korea, feel overwhelming shame over the fact that this bloody killer was Korean. The Korean ambassador to the US is going on a 30 day fast to show how sorry he is. If that seems really bizarre, that people with absolutely no connection to this guy other than nationality (and he'd been in this country since he was 8) would feel somehow responsible, you have to understand Asians and collective identity.

But what about personal identity, and personal responsibility? What about his parents? If some random Korean-American in Fairfax, VA feels the need to apologize and feel guilty for what Cho did, what the hell must his parents be going through? And what did they do through, as he grew up and showed signs of being so mentally ill?

Don't talk about it, be stoic, wait for things to be better. That's the Asian way. That's the approach a lot of people take towards mental illness. It obviously didn't work this time. If anyone takes any lessons from this, I hope it's that if you have a troubled kid, forget feeling embarassed, forget the fear of labels, forget what other people might think about your kid. Get your kid help. I've finally done it, to the tune of 175 uninsured dollars a therapy session. I know he's never going to gun down 32 other human beings, but I hope, with all my heart, to help make his life less of a tortuous field of landmines. More happiness, and less trouble.

Responsible

I guess it's natural, when huge, gaping tragedies occur, to start pointing fingers. Who is responsible for this? Whose fault is it? WHO FUCKED UP??

Is the school responsible, for not alerting people on campus quickly enough that the initial shootings had occurred? Is the campus security responsible, for inadequately conducting the investigation? Is his department responsible, for not following up on repeated reports that he was writing some seriously twisted, deranged shit? Is his roomate responsible, for not trying to let someone know that he was clearly a very messed up individual? Is the resident assistant of his dorm responsible, for not trying to get him help? Is the administration responsible, for not following up on the attempt to get him counseling? Is the doctor who assessed him at a mental health facility responsible, for not diagnosing him as severely psychotic? Is the state gun licensing system responsible, for not refusing him the purchase of two guns even though he had been committed to the mental health facility, if only for a very short amount of time? Are his parents responsible, for letting him live by himself in the dorm, when it must have been apparent to them that he had serious problems? Are the other people who must have known him, like his parents' friends or relatives, responsible, for not encouraging his parents to get him help?

It's a long list, and I missed a lot.

It's way too easy to say "we're all responsible, because we have collectively, as a society, not supported the mentally ill." Though in a way it's true. WHY is there no support system that would have prevented him from crafting and carrying out this intricate plan of carnage? HOW can someone so obviously psychotic walk around and go to class and buy guns?

It's the same reason we see homeless people walking around, talking to the air and yelling at nothing. It's the same reason they find people dead in their homes, alone with 42 cats, and no one noticed for 6 months. The cracks are HUGE, and people fall through them, people who really need help.

Everyone's looking around them, wanting someone else to be responsible. Responsible for fixing and building and making things right, or at least humane. But it's too big, and too diffuse, and too abstract.

Who's going to be responsible?

Rain Day????

Yeah, I know we had a lot of rain yesterday. The wet towels under the window in my diningroom attest to that. The basement's a mess, after having flooded repeatedly during the day.

But it never occurred to me that they would CLOSE SCHOOL today, because of rain we had yesterday! Today the tail end of the storm is still over us, but it's much less rainy, just on and off showers. I didn't see a single tree or power line down this morning when I drove Ross to the train station. He was going to walk, but I was up anyway because I woke up thinking I'd have to drive him. But he certainly could have walked fairly comfortably, since it really wasn't raining much.

I can't believe I woke up at 6, woke Tessa up at her usual 7:15, got the kids fed and made their lunches, when I could have stayed in bed! How fricking wimpy do you have to be, to close school for rain? (Yeah, in CA this much rain would have seemed like the end of the world, but I've hardened my weather sensibilities :)).

What Might Have Been

Today would have been my parents' 60th wedding anniversary.

One of the first things that ran through my head after my dad died was that they would never have a 50th anniversary. They were married 46 years. It would have been a nice party, with golden decorations, and my parents there with all their children and grandchildren and their first great-grandchild. I would have been pregnant with Matthew.

That was the other thing that ran through my head after my dad died, that he would never know my children. That's a damn shame, because he was a great Grandpa.

All these years, so much he's missed. And so much to come, that won't include him. That was one of the first things I said after my dad died, that it was so hard that abruptly, the memories stop. You remember the old memories vividly, and they are a comfort, but there are no new memories.

No Diamond Anniversary. I miss you, Dad.