If you've read my previous posts about my son, Bob's first inpatient psychiatric hospitalization at the age of 6, you may understand my mixed emotions surrounding his release after only six days. On one hand, I was happy to have my boy home, and to no longer be under the scrutiny of the hospital staff. On the other, I couldn't help but think six days was a very short time to turn Bob into a "normal," functional kindergarten student.

I'd like to thank all of you for the kind words and shared stories regarding last week's posts regarding my son, Bob's first inpatient psychiatric facility admission. I have more to share on that matter, but I'm returning to the present today for the ongoing saga of the 504 Plan.

If you read my previous post detailing Bob's first inpatient admission to a psychiatric facility, you know I felt horrible about the decision, but hopeful Bob would get help. I also thought the hospital staff would see me as a concerned mother who wanted the best for her son. I had no idea what was actually in store for me and my husband.

Last week, we returned to Bob's psychiatrist to discuss the medications he takes for bipolar disorder and ADHD. Over the past year, his medication regimen (which he has taken for over two years) has become less and less effective, even as his doses are increased. I was ready to argue my case for a medication change. Luckily, I didn't have to.

This week, I encountered yet another insurance / psychiatric medication prescription snafu. Bob's old Seroquel prescription had run through its refills and I submitted a new prescription for his bipolar medication from his psychiatrist. Blue Cross Blue Shield refused to pay for it. Why? Because their monthly limit is 102 tablets. Bob's prescription for his psychiatric medication was written for 105. Yes--splitting hairs over Three. Pills.

(cont. from part 1 of story) My son’s bipolar disorder and ADHD treatment has been a constant source of conflict between his father and I. Non-compliance with Bob’s prescribed medication regimen has been an ongoing problem for years, and has once again become a problem following a frightening drug reaction. Despite the devastating effects bipolar medication non-compliance could have on Bob’s physical and emotional health, there are sadly few resources I can go to for help.

Part of having a child with a chronic condition is self-education. Whether you want to or not, you become a sort of layman's expert on whatever ails your child. I'm no exception--I know more about Bob's Bipolar and ADHD diagnoses (and others) than I ever wanted to know. The most frightening thing I've learned, however, is how little we actually know.

The following was posted on my personal blog on April 30, 2008: I had a dream last night--I was in the kiddie psych ward, down at the end of the unit where the vinyl-covered chairs are, next to the locked closet full of bad toys and puzzles with half their pieces missing. I was waiting for Bob. And here he came, in Spongebob pajamas, walking--not running, skipping, or galloping, as he usually does--toward me. Big smile on his face. Big, happy greeting of "Hi, Mom!" right before he threw his arms around me and crushed his little self into me in a hello hug.

There's no cure for crazy. Sometimes I forget. My husband pointed it out to me once. "When he does well, you get your hopes up," he said. "And I think you let yourself have expectations that aren't realistic. It's almost like you still think someday he'll be cured." He was right, of course, but that did nothing to soften the blow.

As I noted in a previous blog post, my son, Bob, who has bipolar disorder and ADHD, made it through his first week of third grade—albeit with some problems. Last Monday—the first day of Week 2—I received my first phone call of the year from the principal. Here we go again.