Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Freja



Mother to Mother #13
with  Mavis H. MacDowell

            I wrote last time about my son John.  All parents of disabled children worry  about what would happen to  them without us.  My husband and I are leaving him  money but that’s no guarantee he will  be cared for. His future  could be hazardous as it was in the past.   His  brother who  will  care for him   is in the Navy. We all know that means he may not be able to have John close enough to take care of his affairs.     
John is so attached to  his old friend Teddy it concerned me.  I   wanted a dog to replace his elderly Pekinese when the inevitable happens.  About six months ago I started checking out breeders of Dobermans on the internet. I had bred Dobermans in the past and know  how gentle, loyal, and intelligent they are.  I made the decision to get my son a service dog to  warn him if someone is approaching the house when he is alone.  She will help with mobility, directionality, PTSD, and alert me when he has a seizure at night.   The timing wasn’t great with him just recovering from hip  replacement and me from  double foot surgery. But our puppy we   ordered before her birth August 5th arrived. She is a white Doberman with the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a dog. I’ll attach a photo.  We named her Freja.   Freja is the name of the Viking  princess of  love and war. I think it suits her. The first night we had her my husband had built a barricaide to keep her  in the kitchen. I was climbing over it when my night gown caught and I fell to the floor.  I was bruised and didn’t get up immediately. Freja came to me and instinctually curled up in my arms to comfort me.    I was in the hospital all the next day for foot surgery so we missed a day of training. Things are coming along fairly well with her adjusting to the family. She tends to play too rough with our younger  Pekinese, who holds her own in the play,  so we have to keep an eye on them.  
 I volunteer with Michael’s Angel Paws a new organization that trains service dogs. Right now they have a fully trained service dog named  ‘Freedom’ available to a wounded warrior free of charge. Donations have paid for everything. The first year of dog food is even paid for.  Freedom  is a yellow lab who can perform  close to 90 behaviors to assist her veteran.   Freedom is trained to nuzzle his wounded warrior when he is feeling  depressed.  The veteran must be able to care for the dog.   They are taking applications now. They will select the best match  for veteran and dog.
I have chosen them to train our puppy.  The  formal training begins next week.  It won’t be free for us but we think she is worth every penny and moment it takes to train her.  She is close to being potty trained. Freja is a couch potato, who loves to snuggle up to family members on the couch. Our goal is to train her to alert us when someone is approaching the house. Also to aide my son with  mobility,  directionality, keeping fit with  twice daily walks. Give our son a  sense of security so he will be  more comfortable  participating in public events. If possible train her to alert me if John is having a seizure at night. The most important function is that she provides companionship and is able to help John turn his thoughts to having fun with her  rather than remembering  the past.  It’s been a rough year for my son because two of his friends have moved to  Utah and his third friend is dying of pancreatic cancer. So this delightful puppy has her mission here. I am very grateful for her affectionate ways and intelligence to learn how to help my son.
I will write  about our adventures turning a puppy into a service dog and life long companion.   Maybe  that will help you make the decision  if you want a service dog for your child?

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Veteran's Art Center kicks off Mental Illness Awareness Week

Art Therapy Drawing Hope for Veterans

Veteran's Art Center hosted a gallery called "Pathways to Recovery"

GRAND JUNCTION, Colo. - The Veteran's Art Center in Grand Junction is using art therapy to help heroes of war recover from mental illnesses. 

On Sunday, it hosted an open house to show off some of their progress. 


Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Mother to Mother



by  Mavis MacDowell

           
            Just want to share a miracle we have just experienced with the other Blue, or Gold  Star Mothers. My oldest son was disabled from trauma before he could serve. We  have been writing  about ways to cope with the disabilities  TBI,  PTSD and other injuries  bring because we have been dealing with them a long time. Most of the males in my family and my husband’s have served. I have one  son serving now. No matter what the cause traumatic brain injury  or post-traumatic stress cause similar problems.
            I had watched my son struggle to walk for many years. My son John’s hip was smashed, arthritis had set in and he had to  swing his leg and see- saw back and forth to walk. His  head, back, wrist  and knee were also injured. I had taken him to  doctors for years and they gave him  cortisone injections in his back and knee. He had to drag his right leg for decades. Finally I said “ This isn’t working  please look at his hip.”   The doctor X-rayed his  right hip and said “ That needs to be replaced.”
             We  began the process to get his hip replaced.  John was concerned because his abuser had broken his back decades ago then had it operated on in Fargo, North Dakota while making sure  the process was as miserable as he could make it. He took John to an elderly Dr. Kosi who may have never done back surgery before. He told John he looked it up in a book.  John’s emotional state  with flashbacks to the surgery in Fargo was a concern.
            Mothers are aware  what  their child is feeling no matter how old they are.  He was  afraid to have the surgery done. We relied on the unique resources we have with our church.  I put his name into our Las Vegas Temple.  Everyone who  goes there for the  two week period prays for those on the prayer roll. The missionaries for our ward came for lunch and gave John a special blessing that all would go well with the surgery.  We have  four doctors in our  neighborhood ward. Our Bishop is an anesthesiologist that John knows  well and trusts.
            We were lucky to get an outstanding orthopedic surgeon. He considered our request to have  our Bishop administer the anesthesia but really preferred to use his own  service. He was  reluctant to tell a mother no, so he sort of side stepped that issue, leaving us  to believe our Bishop would be there.   Our Bishop understood but knew how important it was for John to feel relaxed with someone he trusts during the surgery. John asked me several times “Will the Bishop be there? Will he make sure I don’t feel a lot of pain and won’t die?” I reassured him  each time that he would be in good hands.
            They called from the hospital  and moved the surgery up an hour.  Our Bishop Had put in the request to  be John’s anesthesiologist and  I was told he would be  but the confirmation through the offices never came. Doctor Messina cared enough about John to arrange his schedule so he could be there just in case he was finally called.  The  Orthopedic surgeon the best in the area  came to talk to us before the surgery and said our doctor was unavailable and his guy would   be there.  Still not wanting to confront an anxious mother.  Our  faithful Bishop texted me that he was in  the hospital waiting to see if he could come. When the orthopedic surgeon’s   regular guy came to talk to John about going to sleep. John asked “Where is my Bishop he promised to be here.”  I   told the doctor “ You know John has PTSD from   an awful surgery in North Dakota. Look at his back. The scar goes from  his right shoulder to his waist on the left. They had to remove  two ribs that were crushed from the back . Step mother kicked them in.” “That’s quite a scar.” the   doctor said.  Now I had his attention.  “What happens when he has an episode?” the young man asked.  I choked up,   that doctor disappeared and  our  Bishop appeared to  put John at ease. He was grinning from ear to ear as he was wheeled off to have  his hip replaced. It was a true miracle I am truly grateful for.
            Back  in his room he was doing well and my husband and I left for the evening. I had given his room  number  and how to reach him to his brothers. One of them gave that information to  my sister.                     
            Both his brothers called to wish him a speedy recovery. The phone rang  again. John answered. “Who is this?”   “ Someone you don’t remember. I’m your father.” was the reply. The man who had abused him for so many years thought he had given John so much brain damage that he couldn’t remember him or the  horrific abuse.  It is true with  frequent and  severe traumatic brain damage  it is impossible to remember things or organize your thinking. The migraine headaches and all the other pain cloud your memory and make it difficult to think. Then the abuser can take  more advantage of the victim.            John remembered how he had  been hurt. How his father had put him in the back of a pickup after the surgery and drove around on the dirt roads so John slammed against the sides of the pickup box again and again. Then he sprayed John down with a hose and left him in the pickup box.  Then  went in to have coffee with friends while John sat there freezing  in northern Minnesota.   His grandfather saw it happen, but  no one there helped him or reported his father.  He thought he had damaged him so much as he said “He wouldn’t be any good to anyone, not even himself.”  His father also told him then “ I give you just enough food to stay alive nothing more.”
            During this  call  hours after John’s hip was replaced  John’s sperm donor demanded money from him and told John he was coming  to Nevada and California to see his sons.  John got frightened and hung up.
            When the ward  missionaries came to see him in the morning he just kept saying he had to leave the hospital. When I got there he was agitated but didn’t tell me what happened. I had to stay there sleeping on the cot to keep him there long enough to complete that day’s therapy and be discharged 51 hours after his surgery.  He was supposed to be there another day.  They were concerned about John and came to the house to see him again.
   The last time the caller had seen John was 25 years ago. When he  tried to get him in Brainerd State Mental Hospital. The psychiatrists said John didn’t belong there but his father had made arrangements for it to happen. Luckily I found out,  battled for him in court  and took John home with me.  
He   saw John  and my other sons 20  years ago when he  and his wife snuck into my home in California when they knew from my  sister, my husband and I were in Minnesota for my class reunion. He was so busy thinking he was  impressing my  sons by buying them a meal and flashing  $100.00 bills, that he probably didn’t realize they  knew  one meal  was the only money   he ever spent on them. The boys could see through him and told me he was an “Ass Hole”.
 He didn’t know that I had been working with John  every way I could to promote mental health and healing.  My husband and I  gave John decent medical care and medication, healthy food, rest, socialization and love. Everything I could do as a mother, special education teacher and counselor I did for John. He went from a  scared vegetable to almost a  normal man. Now being able to walk normally would enable him to feel more like a man.  Nothing short of another miracle.
If you  could see the difference in my son  it would encourage  your commitment to your child’s healing and faith  that healing  will happen. It  takes   work,   time and patience but it is possible.
I normally don’t talk about our personal problems in my blog.  Thought maybe  you can  feel  relief  because your children don’t have a persistent psychopath after them all their lives.  I want you to feel your child is a hero not a victim.  You just have to believe you can make a major difference in helping your child with TBI  and PTSD because you can.
            My son healed well,   is  doing fine in  physical therapy.   The orthopedic surgeon was so pleased with his progress.  He showed us an X-ray of his hip before and now. The doctor and I wondered how John walked at all with that  seriously damaged hip. We said  “No more Igor walking, he is walking tall.”   He demonstrated his walk for  the doctor.  He was delighted said we were the best patients he had all day. John   and I told him how much we appreciated  what he did for  him.        We are so thankful he is able to walk. I had to share the story with you. Our injured children need us to be advocates for them.