The Perfect Child(73)
There were all these online tests you could take, too—the “Answer these twenty questions and get a diagnosis” kind. I knew I shouldn’t, that there wasn’t any validity in those kinds of test, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d taken them all: Does Your Child Suffer from RAD? Is Your Child a Psychopath? Should You Institutionalize Your Child? I’d taken the same test online that Dr. Chandler had given us in her office, and Janie had scored even higher than she had then. Her scores on the others were in the clinical range too.
Dr. Chandler was a stickler for staying within her allotted fifty-minute sessions, so I didn’t waste any time on small talk once we were alone in her office. There was so much that had happened since Cole had been born, and I didn’t want to leave out anything. I talked so fast my words tripped over each other. She kept telling me to slow down.
“It’s like walking into a war zone every day,” I said after I’d filled her in on everything. “And it just keeps getting worse. I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried getting Hannah help, but she refuses. Her mom comes to stay sometimes, and that always makes a difference, but everything goes right back to where it was after she leaves.”
“I share Hannah’s concerns about Janie,” she said. She rarely took sides on any issue, so she had to feel strongly about it. “I’m really worried about Janie’s potential for violence.” She paused. “But I’m not just concerned about Janie. I’m also very concerned about Hannah and the toll this has taken on her.”
I’d told her how Hannah had lost so much weight that her clothes drooped on her, her T-shirts sliding off her shoulders and sweatpants dragging on the floor. Her pale complexion looked pasty, sallow, and almost gray now, like she was sick. I couldn’t remember the last time her eyes weren’t sunken and rimmed in black.
“Is she sleeping?” Dr. Chandler asked.
“Not really. I expected her to start sleeping once Cole did, but her sleep got worse. It was bizarre. I’m not sure if she’s slept at all this past week.” When she wasn’t pacing throughout the house, I felt her tossing and turning next to me in the bed.
She frowned and looked down at her notes. “I can’t imagine how tough insomnia must be on top of everything else that’s going on. Has she tried to take anything to help?”
I shook my head. Hannah hated any kind of drugs. She didn’t even like to take Tylenol unless it was absolutely necessary. It was weird for a nurse, but she said she didn’t like putting foreign chemicals into her body.
“And you already said she wasn’t eating. What’s her mood like?”
“Her mood?” I rubbed my forehead. “It’s all over the place.”
She folded her hands together and placed them on top of her notebook. “It sounds like everyone in the family needs help, and the best way for everyone to get it might be putting Janie into a residential facility for a while.”
I sat up straighter. “What do you mean by a residential facility?”
“It’s a facility that provides care for emotionally disturbed youth like Janie. They’re therapeutic homes designed to provide a more structured environment for the kids to learn new skills. They’ll also keep them from harming themselves or someone else. Some facilities are better than others.” She reached out and patted my hand. “I’d make sure we got her into one of the best.”
“You mean she stays there? Like, lives there?” An overwhelming sense of defeat washed over me. Sending her away felt like we’d failed her.
Dr. Chandler nodded.
“For how long?”
She shrugged. “It depends. Some kids stay for a few weeks or months. Others stay for years. At this point, there’s no way to know how long it would be for Janie. The first step would be completing an assessment for mental health services. I do them all the time and could easily do it for you. Then, based on my findings, we’d look for the best therapeutic placement for her. I know you guys have been against medication, but it might be time to consider it as an option to stabilize her impulse control, and a residential facility would be a great place to try it. The doctors there would be able to monitor her medication and adjust as needed.”
“It just feels like we’re giving up on her.” Emotions filled my throat.
“I know it feels like that, but you’re not giving up on her. You’re giving her what she needs right now. It’s not always going to be this way, but she needs help. More help than either of you can give her right now.” She squeezed my hand. “And Hannah needs an opportunity to rest and recover. She really does. This will provide her with a chance to regroup herself.” She tilted her head and smiled. “And you might find out that you needed the break too.”
I looked away so she couldn’t see the tears moving down my cheeks. “She’s going to feel like we abandoned her.”
Dr. Chandler’s eyes filled with compassion. “You’ll be able to visit her. Initially, things will be very strict, and she won’t have many privileges, but once she adjusts, you’ll be able to take her on outings. Eventually, you’ll even be able to bring her home for overnight visits. Some kids flourish in residential settings. She might be one of them.”
Normally, I wouldn’t have considered making such an important decision without discussing it with Hannah first, but I already knew what she’d say. There was no need to ask her.