This Feels Never Ending

Everyday I am haunted by the fact my son is somewhere I cannot reach him or help him.  Physically, emotionally, and geographically.  I never know if calling him is going to be a good thing or a bad thing.  The calls never end well.  I am able to call and talk to the nursing staff.  It does not feel like I am doing enough.  Today I called Joel.  I have not talked with him since Sunday.  It was a short call.  Under two minutes.  That short conversation was able to hit me right in my heart.  I feel like I am doubled over from the agony.  It was hard to understand him again.  He was whispering because he does not have privacy.  The little bit I heard was, I hate it here.  It is so terrible.  Please come and get me, please, please, please.  I said I can't.  That it was out of my hands.  He asked how long he would be there.  I had to lie.  I said 30 days.  It was hard to say that.  He hung up on me.
It is so terrible.  He is in a place, filled with people he does not know.  He has no privacy.  He is over-medicated and does not feel good.  He is afraid someone will hurt him.  He is afraid his things have been stolen.  How can this environment heal anyone?  How can we be sending billions of dollars to help other countries when we are treating Americans so terribly.  My son has insurance.  He is on my policy.  I am not asking you to pay his bills.  This is not about money.  I promise you, I would gladly spend every dime we have to help my son.  This is about not having resources available to help the mentally ill.
Do not say to me at least your son is still living.  He is in hell right now.  Do not tell me God will not give me more than I can handle.  I will say I think I have reached the part where I cannot handle anymore.  The biggest issue is I am the MOM.  It is my job to keep my children safe.  Even if they are adults.  I think I have failed somehow in this mess.  I have done the best I could but it is falling way short.  I do not think my son is safe. 
I have always wondered how my son could handle all that he has lost.  I have heard him cry because all his friends turned their backs on him.  I have heard him cry from being lonely.  I have never heard him say he could not do it anymore.  I have never heard him say he did not want to live like this anymore.  That gave me comfort.  I knew somewhere he still found joy.  If he ever gets out of the hell he is living right now, I am afraid he will not be able to find the will to keep going.  After seeing the best we can offer him for assistance, I cannot imagine how he will ever find joy and comfort again.
I wish I could tell myself he is where he needs to be right now.  I wish I could just let the experts do their job and hope for the best.  Unfortunately, I cannot.  I will continue to call him.  Even knowing every call rips my heart right up.  I will visit as much as I can.  Knowing the visits will not be pleasant and probably not make him or I feel any better.  I am sending him cards.  I have to believe that even if nothing else is helping him, my love can get through to him.  If I do not have that to hold onto, I am not sure how I will survive this.
Tomorrow my friend is making the journey with me to visit my son.  I hope something I do tomorrow can remind my son how much he is loved.  I wish he knew how many people are praying for him, thinking about him.  I wish the love would start healing him.  I want him to be able to come home again.  I want him to at the very least be able to live where he is safe and loved. 
I want to see some light at the end of this long, sad tunnel.