Expectations

When my son was first diagnosed with schizophrenia, I tried to flood my knowledge bank of the disease by reading and researching. One of the first things I read was about how many times parents of mentally ill children want their children to be “normal.” and that can set up a scenario for disappointment after disappointment. A schizophrenic brain is not “normal.” Even though I read those words, and have never forgotten them, I still hold the wish that my son will be “normal.” Whatever the HELL normal is.

There are glimpses of the Shayne I knew before the illness took hold. Football and traveling bring out the most normal times. So I was hoping this holiday road trip would bring around more fun times and be awe inspiring and amazing.

Well. I had it all planned out. I gave tickets to the last home Bronco game to Shayne for Christmas. Then after the game, I thought we’d start our road trip west to Idaho. Right away, we had a set back. Shayne left his medicine at home. Maybe if we weren’t going to the game, we could have just turned around and gone back for the medicine. He has a lock box now, with an alarm. The alarm is piercing and doesn’t kick off until the pill dispenser is open. It would drive the cats crazy and I am trying to encourage him to stay on his medicine. I told him it was fine. We would just leave on our road trip the next day. But the rhythm was off and my plans included other routes and a different time schedule.

One of the interesting things about antipsychotic medicine and Shayne is that if there is a rare side effect, he will probably have it. The drugs have harmed his kidneys and he gets frequent bladder infections. He doesn’t like to broadcast his issues in that area with his mother, so I wasn’t aware of his ongoing infection, but after the third pit stop over a ninety minute period, I caught a clue.

We took US 50 west and the first day was fine, except Shayne downloaded a novelization of a video game to listen to. He has head phones, but when he hooked up his phone to the car charger the book started playing through the car speakers. I listened to a zombie hunting game for three hours. And the scenery in Utah is monotonous.

Neither one of us are quitters and we were sure we could make a good time happen. We found Lava Springs, Idaho. That was fine. Hot, hot water, starry skies, silence all around.. Finally, we are on track.

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with the Oregon Trail. I read Seven Alone, the story about the seven Sager kids on the trail after their parents died, so many times that my elementary school librarian gave me the book. I always wanted to go to Oregon along the route and see the rivers and forts and all the things. Ft. Hall is right near Lava Springs and I was excited to get to see all the history, finally.

The second day of our trip started early. I know Shayne wanted to stay at the hot springs, but I was eager to see Ft. Hall and the Shoshone-Bannock Multicultural Museum and, yeah. We stopped to get gas and I looked over to the entrance of the convenience store and Shayne was vaping. And I got pissed.

I know he gets high. I have quit making it my battle. I know he thinks it helps him and maybe it does, but that’s not what I see. And I don’t understand why he can’t just be with me for a few days without being high. I tried to keep my mouth shut, but I suck at that. However, I was also not going to fight with him in a car in a different state. But I was ready to just come home right then.

Things started unraveling. Fort Hall was closed for the season, but the Shoshone/ Bannock Museum was open. We went up there, but the doors were locked. I asked at a business nearby. A girl shook her head and said, “They make their own hours in the winter. Sometimes it’s open, sometimes it’s not. Grrr.

I thought we could at least look at the Snake River and see the place of the famous crossing. However, when we got there, Shayne wouldn’t get out of the car. I took pictures and read the signs and then when I got back in the car he said, “Let’s go home. I have a bad feeling.”

Fine. But I wasn’t about to turn around and come the way we had. And Montana was right there. Determined. Stupid. Crazy. How many other adjectives are there at this point for driving to the top of the world with a schizophrenic man child in the dead of winter? Shayne fell asleep, but he woke up when we reached West Yellowstone entrance. He said “Are we going to Yellowstone?” That wasn’t the original plan, and you have to book tours in advance, there isn’t random admission after November 1, but we did go to a grizzly bear refuge and see some bears and then got back in the car. Shayne said, “We are going back home now? The car is pointed in the right direction?” Well. No. Because you have to go around Yellowstone or go back the same way we had come. So Bozeman, Montana or bust.

Bozeman turned out to be lovely. Artsy and beautiful. We stopped and had food and then got back in the car. After a couple of hours, I said, “Why are you in such a hurry to go home?” He said, “You’re in a hurry to go home.” I said, “No, you said you had a bad feeling.” Then he said, “That doesn’t mean anything. This is your trip. I am sorry.”

We stopped in a tiny town in Montana and had dinner and found a place to stay. This morning when I got up, his pills were scattered all over the floor and for awhile he was gone and I didn’t know where or when if was coming back. There are things to see, but he is pacing around waiting for me to go. I guess I will just see where the day takes us and try not to have expectations.