Just warning you ahead of time: this is LONG. And serious.
At the zoo last year. A fun and joyful day.
In nearly 2 years, I have been involved with Phurba and his family. He has been my dear Bhutanese "grandson" and going through so much through his brain tumors and surgery. As I stated before on other posts, he began to have seizures when he was 8; he is now 26. He has so welcomed me into his life that I've been highly blessed. [The rest of his family, too. Such dear ones!]
For some reason, he has been striking at family members. I hear it occurred even in Nepal since the seizures began, but no one had told me that until yesterday. A few weeks ago, he had struck his father and was going at his brothers and the police were contacted by an outside family member and he was taken to a mental area of a hospital, then moved for several days to another one.
He was released and, a few days later, I went to the psychiatrist appointments for him with his brothers and his mom... not as an interpreter, but an "explainer". [When they are asked a question that doesn't seem understandable, I re-speak it, dropped down to a clearer version.]
I had told them that if and when he begins to strike the family members again, they can call me, day or night, and I will rush to them.
Yesterday morning, about 10:40, the phone rang and it was Bijay, Phurba's younger brother. Bijay began with, "Hello, Grandma. How are you?"
I said I was a little tired, but that was fine. And asked what was going on.
He said, "Phurba is hitting us...."
I told him I'd be there in a few minutes and I'd call 911 when I was on my way. So that's what happened. First, I called my husband and told him what was up. THEN I called the police, gave the info and the address. And, sorry to admit this, for that 3 miles, I DID NOT drive the speed limit through those neighborhoods.
When I reached their place and his dad opened the door, my first sight was that Jamal's undershirt shoulder portion was ripped off. Phurba was standing across the room with a leather belt wrapped around his hand and wrist to swing it at others and hit them. As soon as I was in that living room, the Lord laid it on my heart to say to him, firmly and not quietly, over and over, "In the name of Jesus, you sit on the couch." At first he said, "No." But, as I kept repeating myself, for a fairly short time he sat there, starting several times to jump to his feet and kick and swing, but then sitting back. I kept in his face as much as possible. [Took my glasses off and handed them to his aunt just in case I'd be struck; I didn't want them broken.]
Then I went outside to call 911 again, and Sai, his older brother, pointed at the police cars parked down the street. I ran to the middle of the street and started waving at them and they came forward. Guess they might not have had the address clearly enough. I explained the basic situation and, at first, they didn't seem to take it very seriously. WELL, after a few minutes in the house, they seemed to.
When the police were looking around and dealing with the basics, I looked at Phurba's mom, Nima. She is one of the smiliest people I've ever known, and when I touched her shoulder, she burst into tears. I just sat on a chair and held her.
Then the police, after Phurba continued to kick and scream, pushed him to the floor and handcuffed him. One of the policemen, after a 3rd had arrived to hold Phurba's other arm, started asking more questions and that's when I heard it all. I almost began crying then.
That morning at 7:00 when his grandparents had come down to the living room and he had been sleeping on the floor [no understood reason for that], and it woke him up, he struck them. They are about 80 years old. His grandma a very small lady. Somehow, Phurba's family woke up and came running down and the fighting continued. [I have no idea why they waited so long to call, but I think it's because his Mom really didn't want him taken away.]
After all that time of kicking and hitting and "belting" so many family members [a total of 12 live in that house], the final thing occurred that caused them to call me. Phurba threatened to kill his 10-month-old niece, Sneha, my "great-granddaughter" that I had helped deliver last October during a very tough pregnancy time.
The police were still holding him in the dining room and he kicked at me [missed me, of course] and Bijay was not far away and would say something and Phurba kept spitting on the carpet and trying to kick Bijay. Finally, he spit harder at Bijay and the spit hit his face. THAT'S when the police took him outside to the car and said they would take him to an ER about a mile away and I could bring Bijay and mom so we could give all the info.
While they were taking him past my car, Phurba kicked it and broke the passenger-side tail light cover. [Both Sai and Bijay, separately, have said that they would pay for the repair. How sweet to be so automatically giving in the midst of all this intensity.]
We got down to the ER, answered all the police and ER leader and nurse questions. After nearly an hour, Phurba was sedated. He will be there for a couple more days, then shifted to another location. The family is brokenhearted on both sides of the fence. They love him, but they can't risk him in the family until true healing takes place.
I left messages for the psychiatrists, because they had both told me that if anything happened I should let them know... Sai and Bijay could, of course, but couldn't be understood as easily with their accent. If I don't hear back early tomorrow, I'll be bugging the psychiatric folks.
The possibilities aren't good, no matter how this plays out. But we have to protect the grandparents and the baby.
Now, how am I today? Intense, tired, heavy-hearted. Why? Because, unless things change, I have lost a dear one. He has loved me and known how much I loved him. But, after this battle yesterday, unless the Lord heals him inside and out, he will reject me. The good part? My sweet family loves me even more, because I came just as I had told them I would if anything serious ever happened. I was hugged a number of times yesterday. Thanked often.
So, my friends, who have read about Phurba in the past, and now I've taken a million seconds of your time, just please lift him before our Lord for healing, deliverance, protection. And I'll answer any questions.
The blessing for me? It fits into a motto the Lord dropped into my life some years ago: Right place, right time.
Thanks much for putting up with me.