The day started out well. John was happy and cooperative. Then, about 3 o'clock, Wendy noticed a box of cookies was missing, and she decided to look through John's room. He heard her rummaging about and ran upstairs. "Get out of my room!" We soon learn the reason for his protestations. There were at least a dozen stashes of food in and around his bed. Cookies, candy, chips, and even plain white bread. I realized in a flash that he had thrown away his entire seventh grade through covert noncompliance. Now I know how a hapless wife feels, staring at her alcoholic husband. She loves him, but she can barely contain her anger and sadness at his actions.
The fact that John is high as a kite from last night's candy doesn't help. He runs at us, trying to push us out of his room, and I can smell the chemicals on his breath. He is filling the air with short chain metabolites. For the next five hours we clean his room, and toss food into the waste basket, and fight with him (physically), while Elizabeth cries, and Mary hides in her room. John has no capacity for rational thought. There is nothing in his head except emotions: fear, paranoia, rage, and depression.
There is a silver lining to this huge black cloud. My formula is right; it has been right all along. Years of work have not been in vein. I didn't feed him the wrong foods yesterday, and I haven't fed him the wrong foods for months. I will stop doubting myself and my approach. He can be cured - completely cured - if he is willing. John needs to sign on to my program, and reclaim his life.
I have two close friends who attend AA meetings regularly; I'm wondering if John can tag along. After 13 years of near constant exposure, his brain <may be addicted> to the chemicals that the bacteria produce, as surely as someone is addicted to ethanol. I don't know how AA would feel about it, but I think there are many similarities.