I received a phone call one morning from a mother of two boys. She said she needed help, her bathroom was out of order. I answered that I would be over in short while to see if I could fix the problem.
When I arrived I was able to confirm the facilities were out of order. I had enough tools with me to remove the toilet from its setting into the bathtub. Out came the better part of a Thomas And Friends train set.
We laughed and thought the situation was cute. There was always the worry I might have to come back and repair the facilities again. After cleaning up and putting the tools away, I stayed a short while for coffee.
During this time conversation was not easy as her five year old boy was raising one heck of a racket in his room. Bing! Bang! Boom!! I had to ask, "Is your son making renovations to his room?"
She explained to me that he was diagnosed as a hyperactive child and that his father was not a part of his life. She said he had behavioral difficulties at school and that a medical doctor had prescribed her son Ritalin to remedy the symptoms of hyperactivity.
I remembered high school when a friend had given me a Ritalin pill to try. He said "When a person does not need them it acts as a mild form of WakeUp", a stimulant. He was right about the effect and I never really had the inclination to take the substance again.
Later in life I witnessed a friend go through the problems associated with stimulant addiction. He eventually had to have an Adrenal Gland related surgery. The problem is prevalent in what are known as "adrenaline junkies", they don't feel right till adrenaline is secreted then feel no pain.
Some days went by and I was invited for coffee and snacks, I accepted. Again conversation was difficult, this time her son was screaming at his mother that he hated her and that he was going to kill her. In my mind I was thinking "No, you're not going to do that".
By this time she was crying and telling me that she did not know what to do anymore. Soon after the screaming had escalated to hitting mom. I said "Do you mind if I try?" ..at her wit's end she agreed.
I had not had the time to speak with him before he was hitting me. So I took two pillows from the sofa to protect myself and sat atop him on the living room floor.
Then "the demons" began to escape him. I was mean, he hated me, he was going to kill me. All this was spiced with sporadic attempts to bite my knees which I was able to use the pillows to prevent.
I was determined to stay with him till the threatening and biting subsided. It took a whole thirty minutes or so for him to run out of gas and demons entirely.
When he became exhausted and too winded to scream anymore, I released the boy from living room custody. He quietly went up the stairs into his room, without throwing or attempting to break things and was not heard from the rest of the evening.
Every now and again I would meet the boy and his mother in the community, she would give me reports about his health and behavior. His Ritalin prescription was eventually reduced to an as needed basis and then negated altogether.
I did not receive anymore calls to fix the facilities nor complaints about death threats. She did say that when he would begin to get out of hand she would tell him "Do you want me to ask Dean to come over?"
I believe he was just asking for someone bigger than him to help him realize that he could not always do as he wanted.
