I belong to a couple of online “communities” by virtue of the things I post about: some weird diet groups (not on the bingo card this time last year, but here we are), some tech support/techie groups, and UNC athletics fandoms.

For those not in the latter group, UNC played Duke (I have a hard time spelling that the mature way, for the record) in men’s basketball this past weekend, a game where Duke was heavily favored. They won the game, but not as convincingly as their victory a few weeks earlier in Durham. Carolina fans could still hold their heads high, having led by as many as 7 points midway through the second half.

In Durham we (yes, I consider the tuition and fees I paid to the institution significant enough to claim first-person rights to the team) got embarrassed. In Chapel Hill we just got outplayed by a team that is more physically gifted than us.

As Duke made their (what would be ultimately decisive) run in the middle of the second half, the camera panned to the parents of star player Cooper Flagg. Cooper had just slammed home a nasty (and relatively uncontested) dunk, having driven past his defender on a fast break broken play. It was a dunk worth celebrating, if you were wearing Royal blue.

As the camera hit Kelly Flagg, it captured her and her husband aggressively celebrating by doing the “head-tap” motion, and turning to taunt the surrounding fanbase of mostly Tar Heels. I’m not good at lip-reading, but her face said enough to know she wasn’t commending the hustle of her son, she was taunting the crowd with some language she’d probably not use at church.

As tends to happen when you get televised internationally, folks immediately began to blast Kelly for a couple of reasons:

1. The head tap celebration is for when you dunk on somebody’s head. To do it when there’s nobody there is like doing a Grand Slam celebration for a 2-run homer, or like celebrating your half-birthday with cake.
2. She’s an adult turning to scream profanity at the people sitting around her.

Sure, there’s lots of pearl-clutching and self-righteousness involved, and I’m honestly not here to contribute to that, nor am I here to try and defend Flagg.

I’d be lying if I tried to pretend that watching Ms. Flagg display such a distinct lack of (a) taunting knowledge and (b) class was anything other than gratifying, but I’m here to sell books.

That’s right: I’m here to use this trending topic (Ms. Flagg went on to dig herself into a hole by calling all UNC fans “classless A-holes” in a much-screenshotted social media post) to tell you to order my book.

Is my book going to keep you from making the same blunder that Kelly Flagg committed? Maybe.

One of the principles I harp on in the book: in technical support you can either escalate or deescalate things. Being defensive will always and only escalate things.

One of the things my team hears me say repeatedly: let’s control what we can control in the situation, and remain focused on solving the user’s problem. To take even a second to justify your own actions opens up a dialog that leads directly away from resolution.

Good when you’re trying to generate ad revenue for a social media site, but bad when you’re trying to resolve technical issues for a frustrated customer.

Folks who preorder before March 20th get bonuses. Read more about those here.

This past weekend, my two oldest kids went with their church youth group to a retirement home to play BINGO with the residents, as well as to lead a Vespers service there. I was tasked with helping lead the music.

Before we went, one of my children was lamenting how awkward it was going to be, and begging both my wife and I to let him opt out.

“We can do hard things” I told him. And besides: I was going so he had to, too.

I am always amazed at how visiting folks multiple decades older than you can affect your whole outlook on life.

Every resident I interacted with on Sunday was exactly one question away from a treasure trove of life lessons. Like a loose and rusty latch on a barn door, you didn’t even need a key: just ask them one question. Here’s three that I tried out:

1. So, where’d you grow up?
2. What’s your favorite type of candy?
3. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you visit?

I asked one absolute firecracker of a lady (who insisted that I sit next to her, insisted on holding my hand during BINGO, AND insisted on offering me a cookie no less than 4 times in utter refusal to even hear about “my diet”) question number 1 above, and 15 minutes later I had learned that her husband had been a nuclear engineer, her kids and grandkids and great grandkids (she has 3 but only gets to see one of them regularly) visit her often, and that she sneaks cookies to her room under her shirt. Also, her husband was “Richard” when he was behaving but “DICK” when he wasn’t.

She treated me to that joke on three separate occasions.

She gushed talking about her hometown, her favorite TV show as a child, and her utter disbelief that the BINGO caller was not calling B9, no matter how much she begged for it.

Later, at the Vespers service, I sat down briefly next to a woman I’ll call “Doris” who was clearly sad. She said that earlier that afternoon they had had a memorial service for a friend of hers. She went on to say “…and because I’ve had some health problems of my own, I hadn’t been able to visit her as often as I’d like.”

Then she trailed off: “I can’t quite keep a grip on names, faces, or where I was in the story. I’m so sorry.”

Oh Ms. Doris, there’s no need to apologize.

Isn’t that all of us? So busy with what’s going on in our lives that we fail to notice folks sitting *right there* who would give the entire world for what we take for granted.

There was such joy in that place, even in spite of the disorienting sterility that comes with retirement homes.

I picked two songs that in retrospect I now see I needed those beautiful souls to sing to me.

See, Ms Doris might have had trouble remembering names and faces, but there, gathered round the throne of Grace, I watched as she mouthed these words from memory, alongside a room of believers:

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heav’ns Sun!
Heart of my heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.

I was exhausted on Sunday, and had even considered opting out myself. I’m so glad I didn’t. Sometimes the hard things that we plan on doing end up being such a sweetness.

As parents, our worst nightmare is seeing our child in distress and not being able to help. When that happens, we turn to medical professionals, trusting that they will provide the care our child needs. Unfortunately, that’s not always the case. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, this is what we learned—and what we wish we had known sooner.

Our Experience

Recently, our son developed the flu and experienced a high fever ranging from 102.5 to 104.5 for several days. Alongside that, he suffered from severe insomnia, going for at least four nights without proper sleep. He began experiencing an altered mental state, including delusions, auditory hallucinations, paranoia, and anxiety.

He was scared. We were scared. We knew something wasn’t right.

When we brought him to our local ER, Self Regional Hospital, we expected a thorough evaluation and treatment plan that addressed his full range of symptoms. Instead, we encountered dismissiveness and a focus on protocols that didn’t seem to apply to his condition. As parents, we suspected a rare post-viral effect impacting his neurological state, with the primary concern being his severe insomnia. However, our concerns were largely brushed aside.

What Went Wrong

• A Misunderstood Request: When I said, “I want something to sedate him,” I meant that he needed help sleeping to reduce his anxiety and paranoia—not heavy sedation. I used the wrong word, but as a parent, I relied on medical professionals to understand the root of the issue and recommend the best course of action. Instead, I was given a lecture on how dangerous it is to sedate someone.
• Lack of Consideration for His Medical History: Our son has two brain abnormalities—Craniosynostosis and Dysgenesis of the Corpus Callosum. Seizures were a concern, but when I brought this up, it was dismissed rather than explored further.
• Missed Treatment Opportunities: His labs showed dehydration and a sinus infection, yet these conditions were not addressed. We expressed concerns about him having Post Viral Syndrome. That was also dismissed.
• Escalation Instead of Collaboration: Rather than listening to us as parents and working together to find a solution, the approach taken made us feel like adversaries instead of partners in our son’s care. At one point, I was even threatened with removal from the hospital for calmly advocating for my child.
• Premature Assumptions and Unnecessary Fear: The medical staff repeatedly mentioned that he was going to a youth facility after the morning psych evaluation. This was said without a full understanding of his condition and should never have been assumed or discussed prematurely.
• Unclear and Unexplained Protocols: At no point were the hospital’s protocol rules explained to us, yet we were constantly being corrected and reprimanded for things we didn’t even know we were doing wrong. Instead of guidance, we were met with frustration and criticism, adding unnecessary stress to an already overwhelming situation.

The Outcome

Thankfully, the morning doctor took a different approach. He explained the lab results, made a referral to a pediatric neurologist, and suggested testing for PANDAS (a condition that can cause neuropsychiatric symptoms following an infection). This was the information and guidance we had been desperately seeking.

What We Learned

If your child is experiencing neurological or psychiatric symptoms following an illness, and you feel that your concerns are not being taken seriously, here are a few steps we recommend:

1. Know Where to Go: If we could do it over, we would have bypassed our local hospital and gone straight to Greenville, where pediatric specialists are more equipped to handle complex cases.
2. Be Cautious About Medical Terminology: Avoid mentioning potential self-harm unless it is the primary reason for your visit. Miscommunication can lead to unnecessary interventions that may not align with your child’s actual medical needs.
3. Trust Your Parental Instincts: No one knows your child better than you do. If you feel something is being overlooked, speak up—again and again, if necessary. I also suggest parents look up PANDAS /PANS. These are not very well-known medical conditions.

Gratitude Where It’s Due

While our initial experience was frustrating, we are grateful to the morning shift doctor, Dr. Taylor, for his professionalism, thorough explanation, and willingness to take our concerns seriously. His approach provided the answers and action plan we had been seeking from the start.

Final Thoughts

Emergency room visits can be overwhelming, especially when your child is in crisis. Our experience taught us the importance of knowing where to go for the best care and how to advocate effectively in a high-stress medical setting. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, we hope our story helps you navigate it with more confidence and clarity.

Your child deserves the right care—and as parents, you have the right to demand it.

Benjamin Jr. also wrote a blog post from his perspective. You can read it here

My Unforgettable Experience at Self Regional Hospital

My name is Ben Meredith, Jr. I’m a 16-year-old high school athlete, almost 17, and like many others, I caught the flu. But this was no ordinary flu.

It all started around Valentine’s Day. I came home from school with a fever of 104.5. Since my whole family had already been sick with the flu, I thought it was finally my turn. I assumed I’d be out of school for a few days, rest up, and get back to normal. But that’s not what happened.

For the next few days, I felt completely drained. I’d wake up, snack on something small, and go right back to sleep. After a couple of days my fever went away, but I still felt awful and I couldn’t sleep at all.

I returned to school one week later. I tried to push through the day, but I still didn’t feel like myself. I wasn’t my usual energetic self.

A Sudden Change: Panic in the Night

I was struggling to sleep but kept trying to push through. I had no idea how insomnia could affect my state of mind. The following night, I hoped to get some rest and reset. Instead, I woke up at 2 a.m. feeling panicked and scared. Something felt wrong, but I couldn’t explain why. I went downstairs and told my parents I had not slept in days. I don’t know why I didn’t tell them earlier, but I didn’t and I should have. My mom came up and slept in my room the rest of the night. Neither of us got much sleep. A full 24 hours later I was losing my mind. The insomnia scrambled my brain. I had severe anxiety, paranoia, and a lot of Deja Vu. I was hearing voices that were not there and having delusions. It freaked me and my parents out. I was so amped I could not sleep. My parents were terrified what state I would be in if I went another night without sleep, so they decided to take me to the ER to see if they could help me sleep and feel better.

The ER Experience: Confusion and Fear

When we arrived, I was quickly taken to a room. Nurses put an IV port in my arm without explaining what was happening. A doctor came in and wanted to talk to me alone, which made me nervous. My dad reassured the nurses, “This isn’t my son. He’s not acting like himself.”

I tried my best to explain how I was feeling, but my mind was foggy. The hospital staff kept asking me questions, which only made me more confused. I started having strange thoughts and couldn’t tell what was real anymore. I kept hearing my mom’s voice, even though she wasn’t there yet. When she arrived and gave me my blanket for comfort, a nurse immediately took it away without telling me why. I felt angry and powerless.

A Scary Night in a Strange Place

Eventually, I was moved to the mental health wing of the ER. Things only got worse when a loud argument broke out nearby. A mother and her son had come because he tried to stab her. Security was called to calm them down. It was scary.

The shouting kept me awake, and I felt even more trapped. Throughout the night, I kept asking for simple things like water or a chance to stretch my legs. The staff refused, explaining rules that made no sense. I felt helpless and frustrated.

A Difficult Morning: Frustration and Confusion

I kept needing to use the bathroom, but someone had to watch me. This made me extremely uncomfortable, especially since I couldn’t tell if my underwear was on properly under my hospital gown. I was incredibly uncomfortable in the hospital gown on a bed too small for me. The blanket didn’t even cover my whole body. After some heavy meds, I finally fell asleep around midnight.

At around 7 a.m., I woke up feeling more like myself but a big groggy from the meds. I was still confused why they hospital was treating me like a criminal and not a patient. I genuinely believed they were planning to keep me there, especially since a doctor had told my parents they needed to leave.

I was craving something normal to eat—McDonald’s bacon, egg, and cheese, or just some bacon—anything besides hospital food. My dad brought me my favorite drink from Starbucks, but a nurse quickly took it away, saying we couldn’t have outside food. My heart sank again. My mom convinced them to let her pour small amounts of it into the tiny cup she used throughout the night to give me water.

I noticed my morning breath and quietly asked my mom, “Can I get a toothbrush, please?” She went out to ask for one but didn’t return right away. Eventually, a man came in and handed me a toothbrush. Still weak from lack of sleep, I wasn’t confident standing, but I slowly got up and brushed my teeth. As I did, I heard laughter from the sitters outside my room. In my head, I wondered if they were laughing at me.

I placed the toothbrush on the sink, unsure if I’d have to stay another night. As I sat there, feeling angry, I asked if I could use the bathroom. My mom leaned over to comfort me, but a nurse quickly fussed at her, saying she wasn’t allowed to sit on my bed.

The next few hours dragged by. To pass the time, my mom and I played rock-paper-scissors. Eventually, someone walked in and said, “I need to talk to the patient alone.” She briefly explained why and asked me several questions. By this point, I doubted my own thoughts and wanted to ask, “Can my parents just stay in the room?” Unfortunately, they had to wait in the lobby. They couldn’t even stay nearby. They had to all the way to the lobby. The woman eventually left, and my parents returned a few minutes later. By then, I was exhausted and frustrated with the entire system.

While waiting, there was yet another commotion involving the mother and son from earlier.

I kept asking my mom if I could just stretch my legs. Finally, a nurse allowed me to walk a short loop around the hospital. At one point, I considered running just to get out, but I worried that some cop might tase me, so I gave up on the idea. When I returned to my room, all I could do was wait.

Waiting for Answers

The only answers we got were from MyChart and Google. From my labs, I appeared to be dehydrated, and the CT scan showed a sinus infection. Yet, no fluids or antibiotics were given to me. My mom kept forcing me to drink water and Powerade she got from the nurses. They wouldn’t allow us to bring in outside drinks or even have a full bottle. Everything had to be in tiny hospital cups.

After a final evaluation, I was allowed to leave and told to follow up with my pediatrician and a pediatric neurologist. The likely diagnosis was a post-viral reaction—exactly what my parents had been saying all along. They just wanted me treated for insomnia, believing sleep would help everything else improve. Instead, the ER staff treated me like a mental health patient, neglecting basic care for my dehydration and insomnia.

After hours of waiting, I was finally able to go home. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was like I had been trapped in a nightmare, and I just wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

Looking Back: Lessons Learned

The days that followed were tough. I still couldn’t sleep well, and I kept worrying that I might end up back in the hospital. The whole experience left me shaken, but one thing kept me grounded: the belief that God was still in control.

This experience taught me the importance of listening to my body and asking for help when something feels wrong. It also showed me how crucial it is for hospitals to treat patients with kindness and understanding. While that night at Self Regional was one of the scariest experiences of my life, I came out of it stronger and more aware of how valuable my family’s support truly is.

If you are interested in reading my mom’s take on the experience, you can read it here.