I've decided that someone else can have my job. I'm giving my notice. I quit. No need for severance.
I'm tired of the fighting. The yelling. The name calling. The broken things. The holes in the walls.
Throwing things at me when I don't make the right thing for dinner. The "I don't care what consequence you give me, there's nothing you can do about it." The "I don't care if you say I can't do __________, I'm gonna do it anyway." The breaking into my room and taking whatever he wants.
I am no longer an effective employee. If there's any question about this, look no further than the other two charges in my care.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Jasper
This is the text I received yesterday, "We need u to babysit a cute stray dog. We took it to the vet. No microchip. She's too sweet to take to pound. Or he. Put out a Craigslist ad. No reply. If she is still at our house when we get back" Before I even finished reading this, the phone rang. It was my sister asking if I had read her text about the dog. She said the dog wandered into her yard when one of the kids left their gate open. They had just driven to Bend to pick up a rescue Border Collie and couldn't keep another animal. So she asked if Egypt could look after him. Just days before this, I had been scouring the internet looking for an Australian Shepherd rescue dog. Even rescue dogs are very expensive (more so when you don't have a job to buy one in the first place!). I had found an adorable mini Aussie in West Linn and emailed twice about him. But no answer.
I guess we were waiting for God to drop Jasper into our lives. I keep telling the kids not to name him. He's just the sweetest animal - obviously was cared for at one point. He knows several tricks, is very friendly and doesn't bark at us and follows Egypt everywhere. But Australian Shepherds have really thick fur and it's really easy to let it get matted. He loves being brushed and smooshes his face into your lap wanting to be petted.
I'm praying if the owner comes forward, that it happens quickly because the kids are already attached to him. They are convinced that this dog was meant for us - how else would we end up with a stray
Australian Shepherd?
I guess we were waiting for God to drop Jasper into our lives. I keep telling the kids not to name him. He's just the sweetest animal - obviously was cared for at one point. He knows several tricks, is very friendly and doesn't bark at us and follows Egypt everywhere. But Australian Shepherds have really thick fur and it's really easy to let it get matted. He loves being brushed and smooshes his face into your lap wanting to be petted.
I'm praying if the owner comes forward, that it happens quickly because the kids are already attached to him. They are convinced that this dog was meant for us - how else would we end up with a stray
Australian Shepherd?
Monday, May 13, 2013
What If
Things just keep getting progressively worse. How is that even possible? I thought we had hit the lowest point in this journey when we drove down to Springfield and dropped Holland off at a residential facility?! Now it looks like we are going to be doing the same thing again.
It doesn't seem to matter how much we love this kid. It doesn't seem to matter that we have tried doctor after doctor; countless medicines; diet changes; behavior modification treatment plans; various forms of punishment and praising of good behavior. His damaged brain just will not learn that we love him and his actions beget consequences like calling the police. We are working with Catholic Community Services. We have a mental health team in place at school. We are working with a psychiatrist. He has all these skills that he's supposed to have learned from his stay at the treatment center in Springfield. And still.....
He is becoming so dangerous and violent that the only way to keep the family safe is to get him into Treatment Foster Care. And the only way to get him in that placement is to first get him admitted into a residential facility again. This is what we were trying to do when he first was released from Safe Center. The recommendation was for Treatment Foster Care. But because of all the insurance tie-ups, there was no way to get him into that. Plus, DHS was not backing that recommendation. So his transition from a very structured residential placement to back home took place and we are now looking at getting him into another residential placement so he can enter the Treatment Foster Care system. Because he is considered in a "safe" placement being at home, DHS will NOT place him in a foster care home right from here. So we have to get him into residential, and then get him placed into a Treatment Foster Home. We are talking a MAJOR traumatic event in this child's life.
And there's nothing left to do about it. We are out of options.
He doesn't trust me.
Every time I say we're going to a doctor's appointment, he doesn't want to get in the car. And why would he?
This week is shaping up to be one of the worst in the history of our family. And to top it off, I was reminded yesterday, the Mother of all Days, that I have failed in this one job I have been given. On the way to church, I made the boys get out of the car and walk back home. They had been arguing all morning and I told them they had until 10:30 to get themselves ready. I was going to leave at that time, whether or not they were ready. I sat in the car as they ran with shoes and still yelling at me that I didn't wait. I pulled over the car, and said "get out. You've made me late and I don't want you with me." So they did. How's THAT for a mother's day treat? Then I had Egypt crying that I wasn't buying the family a dog, because their cousins just got one. I almost turned the car around and dropped her off at home as well. To top off the best of all days, there was a baby dedication at church.
I saw myself fourteen years ago, standing up there with Super Hero, as we were dedicating our lives to raising our son to follow Christ and praying for protection from Evil. We have had many prayers surround us, but Evil has not tread lightly on us. All I could think about was how I felt those prayers had escaped us these past years. I believed that we would be protected and I pictured raising children to follow a Godly path.
It is incredibly hard not to feel the sadness that goes along with this kind of life. When we were first trying to start a family, it was always the "what ifs", when we we couldn't conceive children. Now, it's the "what ifs" that go along with raising a child with severe mental deficits and the unknown outcome of his disabilities.
It doesn't seem to matter how much we love this kid. It doesn't seem to matter that we have tried doctor after doctor; countless medicines; diet changes; behavior modification treatment plans; various forms of punishment and praising of good behavior. His damaged brain just will not learn that we love him and his actions beget consequences like calling the police. We are working with Catholic Community Services. We have a mental health team in place at school. We are working with a psychiatrist. He has all these skills that he's supposed to have learned from his stay at the treatment center in Springfield. And still.....
He is becoming so dangerous and violent that the only way to keep the family safe is to get him into Treatment Foster Care. And the only way to get him in that placement is to first get him admitted into a residential facility again. This is what we were trying to do when he first was released from Safe Center. The recommendation was for Treatment Foster Care. But because of all the insurance tie-ups, there was no way to get him into that. Plus, DHS was not backing that recommendation. So his transition from a very structured residential placement to back home took place and we are now looking at getting him into another residential placement so he can enter the Treatment Foster Care system. Because he is considered in a "safe" placement being at home, DHS will NOT place him in a foster care home right from here. So we have to get him into residential, and then get him placed into a Treatment Foster Home. We are talking a MAJOR traumatic event in this child's life.
And there's nothing left to do about it. We are out of options.
He doesn't trust me.
Every time I say we're going to a doctor's appointment, he doesn't want to get in the car. And why would he?
This week is shaping up to be one of the worst in the history of our family. And to top it off, I was reminded yesterday, the Mother of all Days, that I have failed in this one job I have been given. On the way to church, I made the boys get out of the car and walk back home. They had been arguing all morning and I told them they had until 10:30 to get themselves ready. I was going to leave at that time, whether or not they were ready. I sat in the car as they ran with shoes and still yelling at me that I didn't wait. I pulled over the car, and said "get out. You've made me late and I don't want you with me." So they did. How's THAT for a mother's day treat? Then I had Egypt crying that I wasn't buying the family a dog, because their cousins just got one. I almost turned the car around and dropped her off at home as well. To top off the best of all days, there was a baby dedication at church.
I saw myself fourteen years ago, standing up there with Super Hero, as we were dedicating our lives to raising our son to follow Christ and praying for protection from Evil. We have had many prayers surround us, but Evil has not tread lightly on us. All I could think about was how I felt those prayers had escaped us these past years. I believed that we would be protected and I pictured raising children to follow a Godly path.
It is incredibly hard not to feel the sadness that goes along with this kind of life. When we were first trying to start a family, it was always the "what ifs", when we we couldn't conceive children. Now, it's the "what ifs" that go along with raising a child with severe mental deficits and the unknown outcome of his disabilities.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
The Mental Health System is Broken
Ever since Holland came home from the residential treatment facility, we've had access to really good services through the Oregon Health Plan. It's really sad that it took Super Hero losing his job to get good health care. Everything else about him losing his job has been horrible (not enough money for food; standing in line at churches to pick up food every week; barely being able to pay monthly bills; not being able to buy nice gifts for the boys' birthdays.) But the health care has been the one plus of this whole situation. I don't like depending on the government to "take care" of us. But I'm really glad that there are programs set up like this - otherwise I really don't know, or want to think about, what we'd do if we didn't have this available to us.
We have a really great therapist that comes to our house. That's never happened before. Anyone who has been involved with therapy knows that there are lots of doctors involved and you are constantly driving all over the place. With this insurance the therapist comes right to our house for family therapy and also therapy with Holland. There are also "skills trainers" that come twice weekly. So far we've had about 6 different people come out and take Holland into the community. They've gone to parks, the library, out to grab ice cream, walks with their dogs, Goodwill to pick up computer parts and today the guy took him to Subway to grab lunch before our meeting with the psychiatrist. Too bad he didn't eat anything except chips. He said he didn't like their bread - even though they have gluten free, he didn't even want to try it.
So there's what's good about our healthcare so far. Here's where the breakdown happens. In Oregon, some idiotic government people decided that at age 14, children have become competant enough to make decisions regarding their mental health and whether or not they should take medications. At age 14 you're not allowed to: vote; serve on a jury; buy property; rent property; sue; be sued; sign legal documents; open a bank account; apply for a credit card; drink; drive a vehicle; get married (in most states!). So by comparison, my child can tell whether or not he needs medicine that will help his dopamine levels even out, but not that Barack Obama will screw up this country for another 4 years. Thanks for clearing that up.
When we went in for our first appointment with the psychiatrist since getting our new insurance, I had no idea that Holland would be signing for his own prescriptions. In my mind, as the mother you go to the doctor, discuss the problems that are happening and decide on a treatment and get whatever medicine you decide together are appropriate. What happens when he has pneumonia and refuses treatment for that? This is just totally screwed up in my mind. When the doctor was explaining what the medications were for (to help him be more calm and to sleep better), he said "no, I don't want you to give me medicine that will make me not like the computer. And I also don't want to sleep in, in the morning." He gets up at 3:30 in the morning and roams around the house doing the wii and the computer. He doesn't want to sleep anymore because he'll miss time on the computer. Yep. That sounds like a totally competant person to me. One that can appropriately judge how he may or may not need to take medication to regulate his mood and sleeping habits. I now understand why his residental stay ended at age 14. Because the state can no longer give him medication after age 14 without his consent. And guess what? NO ONE told me that! Not ONE person on staff there mentioned that when we got home, Holland would be able to refuse treatment. If they would have done that, I would have pulled him out of there before he turned 14, and gotten him on this insurance. Then we would have at least been able to get him started on medication that would be regulating his mood and helping him sleep.
This is how the mentally ill in the country are getting swept under the rug. The government is making it impossible for families to help their own children get treatment. They declare children competant at age 14 (and in Washington state it's 13!) so they can refuse treatment without even understanding what a drug's benefit can actually be. This is pure insanity.
We have a really great therapist that comes to our house. That's never happened before. Anyone who has been involved with therapy knows that there are lots of doctors involved and you are constantly driving all over the place. With this insurance the therapist comes right to our house for family therapy and also therapy with Holland. There are also "skills trainers" that come twice weekly. So far we've had about 6 different people come out and take Holland into the community. They've gone to parks, the library, out to grab ice cream, walks with their dogs, Goodwill to pick up computer parts and today the guy took him to Subway to grab lunch before our meeting with the psychiatrist. Too bad he didn't eat anything except chips. He said he didn't like their bread - even though they have gluten free, he didn't even want to try it.
So there's what's good about our healthcare so far. Here's where the breakdown happens. In Oregon, some idiotic government people decided that at age 14, children have become competant enough to make decisions regarding their mental health and whether or not they should take medications. At age 14 you're not allowed to: vote; serve on a jury; buy property; rent property; sue; be sued; sign legal documents; open a bank account; apply for a credit card; drink; drive a vehicle; get married (in most states!). So by comparison, my child can tell whether or not he needs medicine that will help his dopamine levels even out, but not that Barack Obama will screw up this country for another 4 years. Thanks for clearing that up.
When we went in for our first appointment with the psychiatrist since getting our new insurance, I had no idea that Holland would be signing for his own prescriptions. In my mind, as the mother you go to the doctor, discuss the problems that are happening and decide on a treatment and get whatever medicine you decide together are appropriate. What happens when he has pneumonia and refuses treatment for that? This is just totally screwed up in my mind. When the doctor was explaining what the medications were for (to help him be more calm and to sleep better), he said "no, I don't want you to give me medicine that will make me not like the computer. And I also don't want to sleep in, in the morning." He gets up at 3:30 in the morning and roams around the house doing the wii and the computer. He doesn't want to sleep anymore because he'll miss time on the computer. Yep. That sounds like a totally competant person to me. One that can appropriately judge how he may or may not need to take medication to regulate his mood and sleeping habits. I now understand why his residental stay ended at age 14. Because the state can no longer give him medication after age 14 without his consent. And guess what? NO ONE told me that! Not ONE person on staff there mentioned that when we got home, Holland would be able to refuse treatment. If they would have done that, I would have pulled him out of there before he turned 14, and gotten him on this insurance. Then we would have at least been able to get him started on medication that would be regulating his mood and helping him sleep.
This is how the mentally ill in the country are getting swept under the rug. The government is making it impossible for families to help their own children get treatment. They declare children competant at age 14 (and in Washington state it's 13!) so they can refuse treatment without even understanding what a drug's benefit can actually be. This is pure insanity.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Basketball Camp
A couple weeks ago, I jokingly posted on my Facebook wall, asking if anyone wanted to contribute money to help get Egypt to a basketball camp this summer. I only did it because we don't have $200 to get her there and the camp is hosted by the former coach of Oregon City High School, Brad Smith. He led the Pioneers to numerous State and National Championships, which date back to when I was in high school, over 20 years ago!
Two things happened: people commented that there was actually a website for starting your own fund raisers; and I set one up! I've posted several updates and included photos of Egypt playing in her second season of basketball. She even has a nickname from the other parents: "The Intimidator". I love that she doesn't back down. Even when they've played all-boys teams. Her age group is currently set up for co-ed, but she's been playing soccer for several years with three other girls and we wanted them to continue to play together. Then Egypt subbed on another soccer team last fall and I got to know that coach as well. So we formed an all-girls team and we love it. Last year when she played with boys, they never passed the ball to her, but expected her to pass the ball to them. She's a very aggressive player and is the best defensive player on her team.
Last week a friend from Egypt's arthritis camp shared her goal to get to basketball camp on her own Facebook wall. And by morning we had two donations! It was so exciting to know that people wanted to help her get to camp. I've sent in a deposit to reserve her a spot - so I'm hoping that we can get all the money raised to send her to this two-week camp. I've set up the widget on the side of my blog. Check out the updates and even a couple bucks would help us get toward our goal!
Two things happened: people commented that there was actually a website for starting your own fund raisers; and I set one up! I've posted several updates and included photos of Egypt playing in her second season of basketball. She even has a nickname from the other parents: "The Intimidator". I love that she doesn't back down. Even when they've played all-boys teams. Her age group is currently set up for co-ed, but she's been playing soccer for several years with three other girls and we wanted them to continue to play together. Then Egypt subbed on another soccer team last fall and I got to know that coach as well. So we formed an all-girls team and we love it. Last year when she played with boys, they never passed the ball to her, but expected her to pass the ball to them. She's a very aggressive player and is the best defensive player on her team.
Last week a friend from Egypt's arthritis camp shared her goal to get to basketball camp on her own Facebook wall. And by morning we had two donations! It was so exciting to know that people wanted to help her get to camp. I've sent in a deposit to reserve her a spot - so I'm hoping that we can get all the money raised to send her to this two-week camp. I've set up the widget on the side of my blog. Check out the updates and even a couple bucks would help us get toward our goal!
Egypt - #6
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Life With Pepper
I'm finally getting around to posting about Egypt's new pet rabbit - Pepper. Such an adorable little guy. So friendly and curious. Loves to be held and have his forehead rubbed. She's done an awesome job taking care of him. I've added "taking care of Pepper" to her list of chores, but it isn't really a chore! She would do it whether I wrote it down or not. She feeds him first thing in the morning and exercises him twice a day. We finally got a play area set up for him on the patio under the deck where he can hop around among hay bales without roaming too far. Our yard is too big and he'd get lost or squeeze under the fence and be gone forever.
Here are some pictures of the newest member of the family in all his sweetness.
Here are some pictures of the newest member of the family in all his sweetness.
Monday, February 18, 2013
The Tumble
Egypt has been playing basketball for a couple of weeks now. She's a force to be reckoned with on the court. I would NOT want to be the person she is guarding. She is totally serious and focused. The coach told her to guard her person (they follow colored wristbands) and she does not let that player out of her sight. I had been taking her to practices because Romania still had a few basketball practices left and they overlapped. Plus, I wanted to know exactly what the coach said and sometimes when Super Hero goes to practice, I don't always get all the information I need.
But on February 7th, Romania had a Lacrosse meeting. Mandatory. That's what the email said. And like all mothers that pay attention to sports emails, I decided to go so I could get all the information I needed. So I sent Super Hero off with Egypt for her basketball practice and finished getting ready so I could drive the 5 minutes to the old high school for the Mandatory Meeting. As I was walking down the stairs, I somehow missed the bottom two steps and my right foot went underneath me and I fell to the landing at the bottom. I won't lie that I screamed. Like a girl. Romania came over. I have never felt such physical pain. Not even from childbirth. Both my pregnancies ended up with c-section deliveries and me being put under. I remember none of the pain (except when I woke and from having had surgery). But this pain was horrendous. Both my ankles had been twisted and jolted. Romania got ice and put it in a bag and for some stupid reason, I got up, hobbled to the car, and drove to the stupid Mandatory Meeting in horrendous pain.
I couldn't even park close. We weren't even sure where to go in and I hobbled all over the place with Lacrosse moms haggling for space at the uniform table, trying to get their kid's favorite number. I love my kid so much, I grabbed #47 and said "Here. Here's your favorite number now." The place was packed with all levels of players and not enough seats for even half. They had equipment for loan, but I was in so much pain, we just sat down at some tables, me with my swollen ankle flailing on a bench in front of me, waiting for the Mandatory Meeting to be over. Romania had grabbed a bag and filled it with ice and I kept that on my ankle for most of the Mandatory Meeting. At one point I looked down to survery the damage, and I swear it looked like my ankle was growing crooked. This mom sitting next to me about fell off the bench when she saw it and asked me what happened. I explained that I had fallen down my stairs, but for some stupid reason had still driven to the meeting. You know. Because it was required to sign in, and get my kid's uniform.
By the end of the meeting, it was clear I would NOT be driving home. I texted Super Hero and said he needed to drive down and pick us up. I don't know how I hobbled to the car. I had to lean on Romania, who is a good foot shorter than me. There should be some online course for how to help an injured person walk. Because my family is no good at it. Super Hero came and he was on the other side and neither one of them was any help. I felt like I was on a trampoline. They weren't walking in sync and I couldn't stop them to sign to Super Hero to tell him how to walk. I gave up and hopped to the car. Every jolt felt like someone was knifing me in the ankles. Little sharks biting at me.
I took some Vicodin that Super Hero had left over from his shoulder surgery and camped out on the couch downstairs. By morning, I texted him and said "take me to the ER." I really thought I had broken it. The pain was so bad. The swelling made me look like The Elephant Man. There was so much bruising. The ER actually got me in right away to a room, but the wait was long. They did several x-rays and the doctor said he was concerned about one area near my ankle that looked like it could be fractured. Also, because there was so much swelling and bruising, torn ligaments is always a concern. I was supposed to call the orthopedist when I got home to make an appointment. But by the time I got home, their office was closed.
I was able to see the orthopedist on Thursday. I called around to many places, trying to find a cheaper way to see someone and get further treatment. Having no insurance makes even the people treating you nervous. They're afraid you're not going to pay for service. I had to pay for everything up front at the orthopedist - $158 to see the doctor and then another $76 for the x-rays. Even though the appointment lasted way too long (we were there almost 3 hours from start to finish), I had a really great doctor. When he came in and saw my leg all bruised up, he said, "who beat you up?!" I laughed and said, "my stairs!" He had looked at the x-rays from the ER and said it didn't looked like it was fractured to him, but he also wanted to x-ray a little higher up, near my knee. He said oftentimes a break can occur when there is trauma down near the ankle from how I fell. I told him right then that I had no insurance. That my husband had been laid off. He said he would do his best to keep my cost down. He had no idea what my treatment would be and said if in fact I needed some sort of boot, he would do his best to find me one.
The x-rays showed no fractures, either at the ankle or near my knee. So he said I would just have to wear this big ugly boot for 6 weeks. He even said unless I have problems, that I didn't need to make a follow up appointment. That would save me money as well. Just goes to show you that there are still good doctors out there. The nurses had a little trouble locating a boot for me. I had to stick my head out of the door several times to remind them I was still alive and needed my parting gift before I left the game show. They didn't have one my size, so we had to drive to their other office in Tualatin. My mom and I and the kids stopped for lunch and then popped in the office, where I was fitted with a snug sock and a big ugly boot, all in 5 minutes. My mom joked that if we combined both appointments, that about evened out the time it should have taken.
So, my down time on the couch, when I'm not sleeping from the Vicodin, is being spent reading and knitting. I just completed my first project. I'm calling it "knitting in the boot".
Aren't you glad I didn't post any pictures of my swollen, disgusting foot? My doctor said it "looked angry", so we'll just leave it at that. I have more pictures to post of the kids and their sports. I'll do that in the next post. Oh - and a new member of the family. His name is Pepper. Egypt has the best names for animals - the three hummingbirds that visit our feeder are called Lime, Flasherdash and Honeybelle. So, you'll get to meet Pepper tomorrow.
But on February 7th, Romania had a Lacrosse meeting. Mandatory. That's what the email said. And like all mothers that pay attention to sports emails, I decided to go so I could get all the information I needed. So I sent Super Hero off with Egypt for her basketball practice and finished getting ready so I could drive the 5 minutes to the old high school for the Mandatory Meeting. As I was walking down the stairs, I somehow missed the bottom two steps and my right foot went underneath me and I fell to the landing at the bottom. I won't lie that I screamed. Like a girl. Romania came over. I have never felt such physical pain. Not even from childbirth. Both my pregnancies ended up with c-section deliveries and me being put under. I remember none of the pain (except when I woke and from having had surgery). But this pain was horrendous. Both my ankles had been twisted and jolted. Romania got ice and put it in a bag and for some stupid reason, I got up, hobbled to the car, and drove to the stupid Mandatory Meeting in horrendous pain.
I couldn't even park close. We weren't even sure where to go in and I hobbled all over the place with Lacrosse moms haggling for space at the uniform table, trying to get their kid's favorite number. I love my kid so much, I grabbed #47 and said "Here. Here's your favorite number now." The place was packed with all levels of players and not enough seats for even half. They had equipment for loan, but I was in so much pain, we just sat down at some tables, me with my swollen ankle flailing on a bench in front of me, waiting for the Mandatory Meeting to be over. Romania had grabbed a bag and filled it with ice and I kept that on my ankle for most of the Mandatory Meeting. At one point I looked down to survery the damage, and I swear it looked like my ankle was growing crooked. This mom sitting next to me about fell off the bench when she saw it and asked me what happened. I explained that I had fallen down my stairs, but for some stupid reason had still driven to the meeting. You know. Because it was required to sign in, and get my kid's uniform.
By the end of the meeting, it was clear I would NOT be driving home. I texted Super Hero and said he needed to drive down and pick us up. I don't know how I hobbled to the car. I had to lean on Romania, who is a good foot shorter than me. There should be some online course for how to help an injured person walk. Because my family is no good at it. Super Hero came and he was on the other side and neither one of them was any help. I felt like I was on a trampoline. They weren't walking in sync and I couldn't stop them to sign to Super Hero to tell him how to walk. I gave up and hopped to the car. Every jolt felt like someone was knifing me in the ankles. Little sharks biting at me.
I took some Vicodin that Super Hero had left over from his shoulder surgery and camped out on the couch downstairs. By morning, I texted him and said "take me to the ER." I really thought I had broken it. The pain was so bad. The swelling made me look like The Elephant Man. There was so much bruising. The ER actually got me in right away to a room, but the wait was long. They did several x-rays and the doctor said he was concerned about one area near my ankle that looked like it could be fractured. Also, because there was so much swelling and bruising, torn ligaments is always a concern. I was supposed to call the orthopedist when I got home to make an appointment. But by the time I got home, their office was closed.
I was able to see the orthopedist on Thursday. I called around to many places, trying to find a cheaper way to see someone and get further treatment. Having no insurance makes even the people treating you nervous. They're afraid you're not going to pay for service. I had to pay for everything up front at the orthopedist - $158 to see the doctor and then another $76 for the x-rays. Even though the appointment lasted way too long (we were there almost 3 hours from start to finish), I had a really great doctor. When he came in and saw my leg all bruised up, he said, "who beat you up?!" I laughed and said, "my stairs!" He had looked at the x-rays from the ER and said it didn't looked like it was fractured to him, but he also wanted to x-ray a little higher up, near my knee. He said oftentimes a break can occur when there is trauma down near the ankle from how I fell. I told him right then that I had no insurance. That my husband had been laid off. He said he would do his best to keep my cost down. He had no idea what my treatment would be and said if in fact I needed some sort of boot, he would do his best to find me one.
The x-rays showed no fractures, either at the ankle or near my knee. So he said I would just have to wear this big ugly boot for 6 weeks. He even said unless I have problems, that I didn't need to make a follow up appointment. That would save me money as well. Just goes to show you that there are still good doctors out there. The nurses had a little trouble locating a boot for me. I had to stick my head out of the door several times to remind them I was still alive and needed my parting gift before I left the game show. They didn't have one my size, so we had to drive to their other office in Tualatin. My mom and I and the kids stopped for lunch and then popped in the office, where I was fitted with a snug sock and a big ugly boot, all in 5 minutes. My mom joked that if we combined both appointments, that about evened out the time it should have taken.
So, my down time on the couch, when I'm not sleeping from the Vicodin, is being spent reading and knitting. I just completed my first project. I'm calling it "knitting in the boot".
Saturday, January 5, 2013
This is Life
When I started blogging several years ago, it seemed that I could write something new every day. Now I seem to go weeks, if not more, between posts. It's not that there's nothing to write. It's that I don't have the time to write it all down. I also starting posting more and more on Facebook. That gave me the satisfaction of writing short blurbs about what was going on without spending a lot of time writing every detail of what was happening here at Casa Marineau.
Somehow I think I'm destined to write a book. Not just because of all the things that have happened in my life. Or that I have some great story to tell. But because I can't stop writing it all down. I have this problem that when I write emails to people, I go on and on explaining things. I used to write letters a lot when I was younger. Hand. Written. Letters. Do people still do that sort of thing? I still love writing on paper. I love feeling the words come off of a good pen or a sharpened pencil. But typing is just faster. More precise. Easier to change a thought or correct a mistake. My thoughts come out of my head so fast, that my hand could never keep up with that momentum. Here's a dumb little confession. When I was learning how to type in high school, I would type what I was saying in my head. I could type pretty fast, too (both in the real world and in my brain!) Then, when I was learning sign language, I used to fingerspell everything. I still do that. When my kids ask me how to spell something, I have to spell it with letters on my hand. Maybe that's why I'm such a good speller - or why I can't stand it when people have spelling errors. Grammar Nazi. That's me. (I bet right now, you've gone back to see if I've misspelled anything!)
So with all this talk about writing, it seems I'm going to announce I'm writing some sort of how-to book. How to be a good mother. How to parent a special-needs child. How to cope with a spouse being out of work. How to not be depressed when it looks like everything around you is going down hill and everyone else's life looks like a joyous coaster ride. How to deal with the school system that will not listen to you and place your child/test your child where you believe to be the most appropriate school setting. How to argue with insurance companies about getting the best coverage for your child that needs to be removed from the home so he doesn't do more physical harm to family members. How to homeschool your children in the midst of all the chaos of residential treatment for a sibling. This list has been going on for some time. I haven't really figured out what my job is at this point. Does that sound crazy? I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm not writing a book. Not now, anyway.
All along the way, God has provided for us. There is not a doubt in my mind about that. It does not erase the fact that this has been the most difficult, the most stressful and most depressive time in my life. I see things happen that are very good. And at the same time, wonder why other things can't be worked out in a similar way. Super-Hero lost his job in the middle of Holland's residential treatment stay. We were dumbfounded, thinking, why would He open the door and allow Holland's placement there and then have Super-Hero be laid off? Then, after I applied for OHP, we found out that for some unknown, unexplained reason, OHP was making the coverage retroactive. It would mean double coverage for all of Holland's treatment at the facility. We went from thinking we had thousands of dollars in bills, to probably owing nothing. Then there's the food boxes from local churches. Not only did they provide canned food and fresh food, we also received an organic turkey one week, and lots of bakery goodies that the kids love. And a week before Christmas I got a card in the mail from one of the churches with $40 in cash and a $50 gift card to Fred Meyer. I was blown away. With some other money I had, I was able to buy a Wii console for the kids. Ours has been broken for about two years and they had just been watching Netflix on it.
I have nothing insightful to say. Nothing very profound or earth-shattering. Just a lot of confusion as to why this is all happening. I look at Holland and just love him so much. And hate that he has turned out this way. It just kills me that I can't have a normal conversation with him. Laugh with him about something without fear of him getting angry or misunderstanding me. He has a good heart. I've seen it many times. Genuine concern for other people. Remorse when he's done something wrong. I don't understand why he does so well in residential and then comes home and everything implodes.
My mom and I drove down on Thursday and took Romania and Egypt with us to visit Holland. It was the first time since Christmas we had seen him. We took some games down and some fun snacks - Monster Cookies. Gluten free cookies with peanut butter, brown sugar, oatmeal, chocolate chips and m&m's. They are a big hit with all three kids. We ate those while playing Scattergories and had a great time. Holland usually doesn't like playing board games, so I was surprised when he went along with this plan. The kids came up with some great (and sometimes very insightful answers!) One time when the letter was L and the clue was "something you keep hidden", Holland answered 'lame underwear' and Romania said, 'love'. The kids did fairly well for being in a small room most of the afternoon. I took a short rest since it's a two hour drive there and back. They watched a movie and Holland read a new book he got for Christmas during most of the movie. Before we left, they all got to play outside in the covered play area. It was good to see them all together having fun. Just as it should be.
Today Holland had another special visit. My cousin lives down in Eugene, about 20 minutes from where Hollands is living. My cousin had Facebooked me and asked if it was okay to visit him. He took his son over to visit and they stayed 2 1/2 hours, playing on the computer, playing UNO and watching a movie. Holland was already planning their next visit. We spoke on the phone tonight and usually the first thing he asks is for me to read to him. Every night I read him a couple chapters from a "Ranger's Apprentice" book we're reading together. (Sometimes he calls me twice a day if he's bored). Today, he didn't even mention the book. He went right in to describing the visit, playing Roblox on the computer and how my cousin brought Life Savers and how they ate "almost the whole bag". He even set up another visit in the next two weeks, wanting to take Holland to Red Robin. I'm blessed with family.
Somehow I think I'm destined to write a book. Not just because of all the things that have happened in my life. Or that I have some great story to tell. But because I can't stop writing it all down. I have this problem that when I write emails to people, I go on and on explaining things. I used to write letters a lot when I was younger. Hand. Written. Letters. Do people still do that sort of thing? I still love writing on paper. I love feeling the words come off of a good pen or a sharpened pencil. But typing is just faster. More precise. Easier to change a thought or correct a mistake. My thoughts come out of my head so fast, that my hand could never keep up with that momentum. Here's a dumb little confession. When I was learning how to type in high school, I would type what I was saying in my head. I could type pretty fast, too (both in the real world and in my brain!) Then, when I was learning sign language, I used to fingerspell everything. I still do that. When my kids ask me how to spell something, I have to spell it with letters on my hand. Maybe that's why I'm such a good speller - or why I can't stand it when people have spelling errors. Grammar Nazi. That's me. (I bet right now, you've gone back to see if I've misspelled anything!)
So with all this talk about writing, it seems I'm going to announce I'm writing some sort of how-to book. How to be a good mother. How to parent a special-needs child. How to cope with a spouse being out of work. How to not be depressed when it looks like everything around you is going down hill and everyone else's life looks like a joyous coaster ride. How to deal with the school system that will not listen to you and place your child/test your child where you believe to be the most appropriate school setting. How to argue with insurance companies about getting the best coverage for your child that needs to be removed from the home so he doesn't do more physical harm to family members. How to homeschool your children in the midst of all the chaos of residential treatment for a sibling. This list has been going on for some time. I haven't really figured out what my job is at this point. Does that sound crazy? I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm not writing a book. Not now, anyway.
All along the way, God has provided for us. There is not a doubt in my mind about that. It does not erase the fact that this has been the most difficult, the most stressful and most depressive time in my life. I see things happen that are very good. And at the same time, wonder why other things can't be worked out in a similar way. Super-Hero lost his job in the middle of Holland's residential treatment stay. We were dumbfounded, thinking, why would He open the door and allow Holland's placement there and then have Super-Hero be laid off? Then, after I applied for OHP, we found out that for some unknown, unexplained reason, OHP was making the coverage retroactive. It would mean double coverage for all of Holland's treatment at the facility. We went from thinking we had thousands of dollars in bills, to probably owing nothing. Then there's the food boxes from local churches. Not only did they provide canned food and fresh food, we also received an organic turkey one week, and lots of bakery goodies that the kids love. And a week before Christmas I got a card in the mail from one of the churches with $40 in cash and a $50 gift card to Fred Meyer. I was blown away. With some other money I had, I was able to buy a Wii console for the kids. Ours has been broken for about two years and they had just been watching Netflix on it.
I have nothing insightful to say. Nothing very profound or earth-shattering. Just a lot of confusion as to why this is all happening. I look at Holland and just love him so much. And hate that he has turned out this way. It just kills me that I can't have a normal conversation with him. Laugh with him about something without fear of him getting angry or misunderstanding me. He has a good heart. I've seen it many times. Genuine concern for other people. Remorse when he's done something wrong. I don't understand why he does so well in residential and then comes home and everything implodes.
My mom and I drove down on Thursday and took Romania and Egypt with us to visit Holland. It was the first time since Christmas we had seen him. We took some games down and some fun snacks - Monster Cookies. Gluten free cookies with peanut butter, brown sugar, oatmeal, chocolate chips and m&m's. They are a big hit with all three kids. We ate those while playing Scattergories and had a great time. Holland usually doesn't like playing board games, so I was surprised when he went along with this plan. The kids came up with some great (and sometimes very insightful answers!) One time when the letter was L and the clue was "something you keep hidden", Holland answered 'lame underwear' and Romania said, 'love'. The kids did fairly well for being in a small room most of the afternoon. I took a short rest since it's a two hour drive there and back. They watched a movie and Holland read a new book he got for Christmas during most of the movie. Before we left, they all got to play outside in the covered play area. It was good to see them all together having fun. Just as it should be.
Today Holland had another special visit. My cousin lives down in Eugene, about 20 minutes from where Hollands is living. My cousin had Facebooked me and asked if it was okay to visit him. He took his son over to visit and they stayed 2 1/2 hours, playing on the computer, playing UNO and watching a movie. Holland was already planning their next visit. We spoke on the phone tonight and usually the first thing he asks is for me to read to him. Every night I read him a couple chapters from a "Ranger's Apprentice" book we're reading together. (Sometimes he calls me twice a day if he's bored). Today, he didn't even mention the book. He went right in to describing the visit, playing Roblox on the computer and how my cousin brought Life Savers and how they ate "almost the whole bag". He even set up another visit in the next two weeks, wanting to take Holland to Red Robin. I'm blessed with family.
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