When Joel was a baby he had colic. It was right at supper time. The doctor gave me drops for it. (Who knew I would sit and wonder years later if those drops brought on the schizophrenia.) He was an active child. Not hyper, busy. Very different from his sister and her very quiet personality. Tru Stories and I would go to bed early at night and each read books. I remember the first night I discovered pop and Joel were not a good combination. I dozed on his floor until the wee hours of the morning while he played and played.
Joel had such an imagination. We had a friend that called him Calvin (from Calvin & Hobbs). He loved to be Super Man. He lived in his Super Man pajamas for several years. He broke lenses out of his sunglasses to be Clark Kent. He was also He Man and my favorite, Battlecat. I loved him as Battlecat. He had a belt from his robe that we tied on the belt loop of his jeans. That was his tail. He would not speak, only growl. Like a tiger he was very quiet. He would stalk his prey. Quietly, sneak up. Shocking to be reading or watching TV and suddenly realize our ankles were being licked by my son. This did not AMUSE his sister. When he was Battlecat, he would not use his hands to eat. He would lick at his food. Once again, his big sister was not amused. He was a child that helped coin the phrase, Pick Your Battles. Several nights his dinner was served under the table so he could eat like an animal. I look back and wonder was that schizophrenia?
He made wonderful engine noises, animal noises, and gun sounds. He watched Indiana Jones hundreds of times. He created his own outfits. He found an old hat, he wore his winter boots, winter coat, and tied a jump rope around his waist. He would throw the jump rope on the floor and pretend to climb it. My job was to sing the music to Indiana Jones in the background and tie him to see how quickly he could escape.
One beautiful Spring Day I was sitting on the porch waiting for my children to come home from school. I saw a very determined Tru Stories marching down the street. From a distance I could tell she was not happy. She was not even in our yard when she started yelling about her disgusting brother. He was carrying a dead squirrel home. I could see him coming down the street, dead squirrel by the the tail. I yelled at him to drop it. He did and was not happy about it. Picture Tru Stories in the background of this story. Very dramatic. Body language, sighing, her life was ruined. I asked what he was doing with the squirrel. He said, taking it to show & tell. It was Friday. I said we can't keep the dead squirrel all week-end. He said, we can freeze it. I had to explain germs, dead animals, maggots. It would have been an interesting item to take for show & tell. It never happened.
He was my loving child. He could never get enough hugs and cuddles. He wanted to stay his Mommy's boy forever. He was scared of the dark. He had so many sleep issues. When he got older he knew where every item in his room belonged. He could tell if anything had been moved. He had all his clothes color coordinated in his drawers. He had a bed time ritual that could not be deviated from. He believed if anything was not completed in the correct order and time that he had established, his sleep (and ours) would be ruined for the night.
In junior high he started what we referred to as, shower, bath, shower. He liked to soak in his tub. He did not like to soak in his dirt. He would shower and get clean. Soak and relax in the tub. Shower off any dirt that could have found its way back onto his body during the bath. He had to have his own bar of soap. He kept it in a travel container.
Was that part of his unique character traits or schizophrenia waiting to come out in the open? I do not have the answers. We enjoyed his quirks. Along with the quirks came many delights. He was a great athlete. He was intense (too intense). He got good grades. He got his homework done as soon as he got home. He did not have to be reminded.
He loved fast rides. He and his Dad could spend all day riding roller coasters and did one day. When he was little he had two expressions he loved to use: let's do it again and watch me. We did watch him. We watched him play baseball, basketball, football, and soccer. When he got his first outdoor basketball hoop His fingers were cracked with big splits in the skin from playing outside in the cold. He would practice, practice, practice. He loved his Dad to play catch in the summer and toss a football in the fall.
By the time he was in 4th grade he was already charming the ladies. He was nice to them. He spent hours talking on the phone to many different girls. He was so cute. He always looked just right when he left the house. He was able to warm up for basketball games and discretely flirt with the cheerleaders while he did it.
There was a dark side too. He wanted everything fair. If he liked a teacher, things were great. If he did not like a teacher, he made everyone miserable. He served many detentions and suspensions. I was always waiting for a call from the school about something. He had a temper. He was not patient.
He was an over confident, living life on the edge boy.
I thought he would grow up to be a lawyer. He loved to argue. I knew he would marry a cheerleader. His sister and I kept a list of girl names that we knew he would date. He liked the Mandy, Brandi, Lexi kind of names.
I would not have been surprised if we would have lost him in a car accident. He was careless. Drove to fast. I never saw schizophrenia coming until it was too late. I read quite a bit about schizophrenia. Trying to figure out if there was something we could have done to prevent it. Wondering if I did something while I was pregnant to cause it. There is nothing to blame. Many unknowns.
He was a high school kid having the time of his life. Then we started losing him to a black hole. It took a few years to know exactly what we were up against. It took us several more years to really believe it. Learn how to live with it.
This is what schizophrenia looks like.
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