It's Tuesday,
November 13th and we head back to the clinic to drop her off. Same routine. We
leave her there and come back towards the end. When we return, we learn that
they have started to do some detective work.
My husband and I meet with Dr. G alone and we learn that we are no longer to be answering our daughter's questions and reassuring her that she won’t get sick. She has a new skill she needs to practice called "detective thinking." Basically, when a thought enters her mind she needs to write it down and then write down any evidence both for and against the thought. For example, the thought maybe "I will not go into a public bathroom because I might get sick." Evidence for: "someone could get sick from germs in a public bathroom." Evidence against: "many people do not get sick from public bathrooms and I have never gotten sick from a public bathroom." They practiced this with many different thoughts and I learn that she is the one who needs to think through each thought and really use her own brain - not mine. Taking control over her own thoughts and actions is an important step.
She is also told how no one can guarantee that she will not throw up again. And in fact, it is almost a guarantee that she will. She understands we would be lying to her if we made that guarantee. We leave the clinic and she is pretty mad. She starts to ask us certain questions and we reply with "it's time to use your detective thinking." She begins to tell us how she doesn't like this anymore and she does not want to go back. She begins to get angry with us when we do not ease her fears about her usual daily anxiety questions. Am I going to get sick from dinner? Where did you buy the food? Is the food expired? Did you wash your hands? Was anyone sick at her little brother's school? There were all of the usual daily questions. And no more of us solving them.
The next days it is harder to get her to the clinic. She is mad and resistant, but goes. Dr. G begins taking her to the bathrooms in the building and performing different tasks starting with simply walking in and building up to touching things. she writes down the tasks and learns to rate her anxiety and write down her thoughts and physiological feelings.
We meet at the end of the day and Dr. G explains her homework of working on some tasks and writing about them. Then Dr. G takes a sip of her water and starts to cough as if the water goes down the wrong side, she is holding one of those fun pens that click to change colors. I don't realize her plan until after the fact. She says to my daughter, who didn't really catch that she coughed all over the pen, "and here is a fun pen to do your homework with!" Dr. G then, ever so perfectly, slides the pen across the table to her so she has to catch it to avoid it falling to the floor. As she catches it and puts it into her bag, Dr. G makes sure she knows she coughed on the pen. And I can see the fear in her eyes. She starts to ask Dr. G if she is sick. And her reply of course is "I guess you'll have to use your detective thinking..."
My husband and I meet with Dr. G alone and we learn that we are no longer to be answering our daughter's questions and reassuring her that she won’t get sick. She has a new skill she needs to practice called "detective thinking." Basically, when a thought enters her mind she needs to write it down and then write down any evidence both for and against the thought. For example, the thought maybe "I will not go into a public bathroom because I might get sick." Evidence for: "someone could get sick from germs in a public bathroom." Evidence against: "many people do not get sick from public bathrooms and I have never gotten sick from a public bathroom." They practiced this with many different thoughts and I learn that she is the one who needs to think through each thought and really use her own brain - not mine. Taking control over her own thoughts and actions is an important step.
She is also told how no one can guarantee that she will not throw up again. And in fact, it is almost a guarantee that she will. She understands we would be lying to her if we made that guarantee. We leave the clinic and she is pretty mad. She starts to ask us certain questions and we reply with "it's time to use your detective thinking." She begins to tell us how she doesn't like this anymore and she does not want to go back. She begins to get angry with us when we do not ease her fears about her usual daily anxiety questions. Am I going to get sick from dinner? Where did you buy the food? Is the food expired? Did you wash your hands? Was anyone sick at her little brother's school? There were all of the usual daily questions. And no more of us solving them.
The next days it is harder to get her to the clinic. She is mad and resistant, but goes. Dr. G begins taking her to the bathrooms in the building and performing different tasks starting with simply walking in and building up to touching things. she writes down the tasks and learns to rate her anxiety and write down her thoughts and physiological feelings.
We meet at the end of the day and Dr. G explains her homework of working on some tasks and writing about them. Then Dr. G takes a sip of her water and starts to cough as if the water goes down the wrong side, she is holding one of those fun pens that click to change colors. I don't realize her plan until after the fact. She says to my daughter, who didn't really catch that she coughed all over the pen, "and here is a fun pen to do your homework with!" Dr. G then, ever so perfectly, slides the pen across the table to her so she has to catch it to avoid it falling to the floor. As she catches it and puts it into her bag, Dr. G makes sure she knows she coughed on the pen. And I can see the fear in her eyes. She starts to ask Dr. G if she is sick. And her reply of course is "I guess you'll have to use your detective thinking..."
Thankfully we
live only 5 minutes from the clinic since it was not a fun ride home. She is
now starting to talk about another serious fear that she has of harming
herself. In the beginning of the school year, there was a seminar about bullying
in which they talked about, and showed illustrated photos of, kids that had
killed themselves. She was haunted by these images for a long time. So much
that I had to call the school and ask them to find somewhere else for her to be
during these seminars. When she was having really bad moments for the past
couple of months, she would say things like "I am afraid I would do
something like that, even though I know I wouldn't." Dr. T said it was the
anxiety talking, but to keep an eye out.
What started to worry me now was that she started digging her nails into her skin and biting herself when she was feeling out of control. She was starting to say she couldn't stop thinking about the kids that had killed themselves. She was also starting to wash her hands more and more. They were cracked and bleeding. Dr. G said that things may get worse before they get better, but this was really hard to watch and know how to deal with.
What started to worry me now was that she started digging her nails into her skin and biting herself when she was feeling out of control. She was starting to say she couldn't stop thinking about the kids that had killed themselves. She was also starting to wash her hands more and more. They were cracked and bleeding. Dr. G said that things may get worse before they get better, but this was really hard to watch and know how to deal with.
She was saying
she wanted to keep her phobia. She loved it and was not going to let this lady
take it away. As I thought about that insane statement, I asked her if she
loved the phobia because it was keeping her safe from getting sick. Makes sense
I guess. It makes her wash her hands, it keeps her from dangerous places like
school and has her on the lookout 24/7. It is her control and she is not going
to let it go without a fight. And now it seems as though battling is the only
thing going on between us. Battling over the soap and the showers and the food
and everything.
That night we were supposed to do some homework. When she refused, I took "the pen" and papers from her bag and we did it together with me writing everything. I had promised her a back message after we did the homework. Once she realized I used "the pen" she wouldn't let me touch her. She was so mad at me because I would not wash my hands. And so mad because she really wanted that back massage but could not control the situation the way she wanted.
I believe it was the next day that we had a break since Dr. G was away for the day. I had a blood test set up for her that was ordered by the psychiatrist. This was going to be a great homework task. A doctor’s office with sick people and having blood taken. A bigger task than I even imagined.
That night we were supposed to do some homework. When she refused, I took "the pen" and papers from her bag and we did it together with me writing everything. I had promised her a back message after we did the homework. Once she realized I used "the pen" she wouldn't let me touch her. She was so mad at me because I would not wash my hands. And so mad because she really wanted that back massage but could not control the situation the way she wanted.
I believe it was the next day that we had a break since Dr. G was away for the day. I had a blood test set up for her that was ordered by the psychiatrist. This was going to be a great homework task. A doctor’s office with sick people and having blood taken. A bigger task than I even imagined.
