In Times of Trouble

When the police officer pulled up in front of our house, on January 7, 2023, and began walking toward our front door, I felt my entire body tense up. All in a few seconds, my face flushed hot and red. My heartbeat quickened. I froze in place, debating frantically in my mind if I should answer the door or not. I didn’t want to. My mind went to the darkest places and I knew the officer was coming to deliver bad news. Was it about my wife Kathy who had left an hour before to go grocery shopping? My son Matthew who lives with profound intellectual disability and autism and was out with a caregiver for a few hours? Was it about one of my other two sons Adam and David? Was it someone or something else entirely? I didn’t know. I was certain that I didn’t want to know what it was. All of this hurled around in my mind in a matter of seconds. 

My anxiety rising, I knew that I had to answer the door. Whatever the news was going to be, I instinctively knew that the officer was at my door because I needed to know it. If it was about someone I loved, as painful as it might be, I knew that I couldn't run away from it. 

So, I reluctantly answered the door.

It was a frigid winter morning. I invited the officer in from the cold. He asked if I knew where my wife was. He had tried to reach her. But she didn’t answer. Okay, it might not be about her, I thought. He then asked if I was the father of Matthew. My heart quickened. He asked if I knew where he was? It must be about him, I thought. Oh no. What had happened?

Mercifully and quickly, the officer reassured me that Matthew was safe. But there was a troubling incident involving him. Okay, he’s safe, I breathed a little relief. It’s not the worst that I feared might be coming. Then he told me the news.

Matthew’s Saturday morning caregiver had been arrested while Matthew was with him. The police in a neighboring town had been called because Matthew was found sitting alone in the caregiver’s car in front of the caregiver’s home, and was believed to be in the car alone for over an hour, with no heat on, on that bitterly cold morning. 

The officer informed me, as we spoke, that Matthew was being transported by ambulance to the Hershey Medical Center, just a five-minute drive from our home. I was encouraged to go to meet him there in the Emergency Department. Because he couldn’t talk and because by regulations to protect people living with disabilities, Matthew needed to be examined by a doctor. Our understanding of Matthew’s limitations and capabilities would be essential in the process that needed to take place. And of course, he was our son; we needed to be with him in this traumatic situation.

Just then, Kathy came home, her eyes as big as saucers and looking quizzically at me, silently, but clearly, conveying the question - “What is happening here?” “What is wrong?” “Who is in trouble?” I quickly followed the officer’s lead, said that the officer had come to tell us news about Matthew, and reassured her that Matthew was safe. I then told her what happened, and that we needed to get to the Medical Center as quickly as we could. 

For the next four hours we answered medical questions about Matthew and what he would tolerate. We explained what we knew about the caregiver and why and how often Matthew was with him. And we had to make a statement to the arresting officer who was called to the scene of what turned out to be a felony crime - endangering the life and safety of a care-dependent person. 

What we learned in that lengthy conversation was that this was not the first time the police had been called to report seeing Matthew sitting in front of the caregiver’s home. It turns out that just two weeks prior - Christmas Eve morning - the same neighbor reported the January 7th incident, also called about the same thing, on what was an even more bitterly cold morning. And that time, Matthew’s car window was down and his coat was off. On that earlier morning, the caregiver talked himself out of being charged for endangerment, with a different officer. 

We subsequently learned that those were not the only two times the neighbor witnessed Matthew sitting alone for long periods of time in the caregiver's car. What the caregiver was supposed to be doing was to drive Matthew around and get him something to eat; Matthew absolutely loves riding in a car and seeing the sights. But apparently, that hadn’t been happening. 

It was a traumatic day for us. It was also Matthew’s 35th birthday. Now, we’ll always think of that horrible morning in 2023 on each of his birthdays to come. 

There are many more details we could share about that particular birthday. There are many more other days when we have received calls about Matthew falling and needing stitches, or being in a minor car accident while he was out on an excursion with his day program, or already in another ambulance because he was hurt. We have too many stories of emergency departments, urgent cares, and sudden emergency doctor visits. Of seizures he was experiencing. Of vomiting and other bodily function emergencies. With him there’s never the proverbial “dull moment”. 

We’ve had to learn very quickly that our reactions, whatever they are internally, need to be measured and calm externally, to help one another and those caring for Matthew to get through the situation as easily and undramatically as possible.

Those personal Matthew experiences have absolutely helped me in the many professional experiences and responsibilities I’ve had over the years. To remain calm when with someone who is dying or who has died in front of me. To be hearing that someone I’m listening to is carrying a gun, or has done time in prison for murdering someone, or is not certain they want to go on living. 

Those experiences with Matthew have helped me to respond with dignity, grace, and empathy, without causing more distress with those who are already in enough distress. 

Inside, I might often feel like an erupting volcano. But outside, the skills I've learned, especially because of Matthew, have helped tremendously when supporting others who are living with their own emergencies, too. 

It doesn’t help anyone who is immersed in times of trougle to have someone throw more “flames on the fire”. What helps is to have an empathetic, validating, calm, and safe presence with them to let them know that they are not in the troubles alone. To let them know that together they can get through whatever is happening, seemingly beyond their control. To let them know that together they can find some measure of control to make it through the troubles and experience calmer, less troubled days ahead.