It’s been a week since Boo moved to Ballston Spa and into his new home. I ended up taking all of last week off because I couldn’t focus on anything but his impending move and all the feelings – doom, and dread, and so much fear. On the Tuesday before the move I called the Ballston Spa police department and asked if I could stop in to talk to them about Jonah, and then I called the house and asked if I could come visit. Both said yes.
I went to the police station first and spoke with Corporal Mike, who was interested and gracious; he listened as I told him what Jonah’s aggressive behaviors look like and why they will be called to the house eventually. He even offered to come with me to the house that day, but I declined his kind offer. I didn’t think it would exactly be a good look to show up with a cop right from the get-go. But I was glad I talked with him.
Then I drove the short distance to the house. 12 or so of the direct care workers were there doing training, so I was able to meet and speak with them all while they were gathered in the kitchen after having lunch. I asked their names and told them about Jonah and offered up my sincerest appreciation for who they are and what they do. “You guys deserve rock star money, football player money, and I can’t express how important you are to me,” I said. At the risk of sounding like an alarmist, I told them about speaking to the police and warned them about the severity of Jonah’s behaviors. I’d rather be thought an overwrought mother than leave them unprepared. Whatever the case, when I left on Tuesday I felt better.
The next day was the going away party at his house at Anderson, and I stayed to watch Jonah and his peeps enjoy the Chinese food and cake amid decorations declaring “We will miss you, Jonah!” Briana and the other staff, as usual, came through with love to celebrate Boo at his house one last time.
It was strange, and a little sad. I watched my innocent almost-24 year old son play with balloons and enjoy his special dinner, and it was surreal.
How much does he understand this notion of “going away”? How will he handle it, leaving everything he knows to embark on a whole new life?
I knew I was superimposing my own worry onto his situation, and knew I ought not to do that, but also I felt the need to carry it all for us both. As if my worry would somehow alleviate any discomfort he would feel. Of course that’s not how it works.
In my hotel room that night I wished I had more faith – in the process, in the people, in God. I wished I had more faith and I wished I had less anxiety and I wished this transition wasn’t happening at all.
Then, laughing inside, I thought of the movie Wayne’s World, with Garth in his mad scientist hard hat, mumbling “we fear change” and hitting the fake robot arm repeatedly with a hammer.
We fear change indeed.
The day of the move was uneventful, with blessedly good weather, easy travel, no behaviors. Jonah calmly listened to his YouTube playlist on headphones and enjoyed the 2-hour ride north, where we stopped at McDonalds for his favorite lunch.
At the house we set up his room. Briana had come along (thank you so much, Briana!) and she stayed to talk to staff and tell them all about Boo while I took a quick trip to Walmart to buy some plastic stackable drawers for his clothes. I had strongly suggested they remove a heavy wood dresser from the room and secure a nightstand and bed to the wall, giving him fewer things to grab and throw.
After a few hours we said our goodbyes, keeping it casual and undramatic. “I’ll see you soon, bunny,” I told him, headed for the stairs down to the entry level. He followed me and asked “go walk?” I told him we’d have a walk next time, he said, “okay, okay,” and that was it. Awesomely anticlimactic.
Jonah was the first resident to move into this new group home. The next day another individual moved in, and over the course of the next month or so, three more young men will join them. Each resident has his own bedroom, and the house has 3 bathrooms. There are 4 staff people on the day and evening shifts, and 3 on the overnight, 24 hours a day.
On Friday they took him in the van to a day program – more about that another day. And he did get angry about something, tearing up his room some. He threw and broke the plastic drawers I’d bought, along with some canvas photo prints on the wall. I should’ve known he’d bust the drawers, but I thought they’d be a lot lighter than a heavy wood dresser with drawers, anyway. No one got hurt and he didn’t attack anyone, so I call that a win. The house manager told me they’d order him an armoire with open shelving and secure it to the wall.
During this first week I called twice a day, bracing for distressing news but never getting any. I talked to Boo almost every day (Briana did too), and staff sent us updates and photos. I would’ve gone to visit Sunday but we got a big snowstorm, so I waited. It was difficult to wait to see him…my happiest hours are when I’m with him.
He’s doing really, really well. So far the OPWDD transition team and direct care workers seem like a well-oiled machine of skilled professionals and attentive caregivers. I’m so incredibly grateful and relieved.
Thank you all, truly, for your kind thoughts, comments, prayers, and well-wishes.
He did it!
—
“Walking across a threshold is like stepping off the edge of a cliff in the naive faith that you’ll sprout wings halfway down.
You can’t hesitate, or doubt.
You can’t fear the in-between.”
~ Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January
The Never Normal 