
Marcus is entering Day 7 at Loma Linda Behavioral Medicine Center. His meds are being adjusted, he is much calmer, appears quite content now, and he has managed to sleep three nights out of the last seven.
Our visit last night forced us to ask a question. Marcus was rolling around on the floor, jumping up and down on his bed, running up and down the length of the hallway. Every once in a while he would lay on the floor and just chill out for a few moments. It was obvious that he felt quite at home. That forced us to ask a question: What does home mean for Marcus?
Why are we taking care of him? At Loma Linda, he has 24 hour care. If he stays up all night, there is someone to watch him. He has contact with people, and since he gravitates toward people in a vaguely social way, the staff and other patients fulfill that need for him. We realized that we are wrong to talk about "placement" in tones of fear and doubt on Marcus' behalf. He adjusted just fine in a few days to this new setting with little contact with family members (1 hour per day during visiting hours).
When we talk about placement, we need to speak about our inability to keep him safe, to watch him 24/7, to monitor his vital signs, to adjust his medication thoughtfully and professionally, in fact, we need to speak about our inability to really give him the kind of home he needs and deserves.
