Weeks After

After our son has been in out-patient treatment for two weeks, the facility asks us in for a meeting. We believe that it will involve our son, his treatment team, and all four parents. When we arrive, our son is not in the room. We are handed sheets of paper with "helpful information" on it and a conversation begins before we can review them, led by the person most closely connected with our son's treatment. It is not at all a direct conversation, it seems to start very far back and move slowly closer, probing us all the way for reaction. It feels like we are being tested for our levels of awareness, ability to understand, and willingness to help. At several times during the conversation, I hear phrases that are new to me, so I write them down. My notes say: internal preoccupation; jumbled thoughts; blunted or constricted affect; spontaneous relating; functionality and peace of mind. When our son is finally brought into the room, well over an hour has passed and he does not meet our eyes, barely greets us and the remaining conversation is strained and unsatisfying. After I get home, I read the papers, see the diagnosis, and feel enraged that they did not simply tell us the words to our faces.