So far I'm pretty lukewarm about the caregivers we're getting from the agency I switched to. We're new at having help, so I haven't had the chance to become truly jaded yet, but geez...you'd think there'd be more to choose from.
I know, low wages and lack of training are the problem. I'm lucky we got on the waiver and have any help at all. I know.
Yesterday the girl that comes for a few hours in the morning was showing the new guy the ropes while I was getting ready to take my husband downtown for surgery (it went very well, btw, much better than expected). I made sure my daughter was also here the whole time I was gone to oversee things and let the dude do the heavy lifting.
Melody (daughter) texted me regarding the two caregivers while I was at the hospital: Mom, they're like twins. They're both quiet and boring. lol, I don't even know what to tell them. "Hey! Talking to him and playing would be great" lol, like, seriously. Let's sit here and be quiet. Sounds like a party. They're watching this really weird serious tv show. But D's fine. I never leave them alone. I'm coming in and out non-stop.
Yes, my daughter got the smart ass gene from both sides of the family, and yes, I did tell her to have them take D outside for a walk instead of sitting inside. I am so glad I have her here to keep an eye on any newbies. Daniel scored having her as a big sister. I don't know what I'll do when she graduates and moves away. Wait, that can never happen!
Just so it's clear, God, I'm looking for a much better fit when it comes to Daniel's caregivers.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
A Little Help from my Friends
I decided to move my mother-in-law from the skilled nursing facility she's been in since December into a small, very nice assisted living center. The paperwork is almost done, and I can go to sleep now certain (as certain as you can be under these circumstances) that she's going to be well taken care of and surrounded by beauty and kind people.
My husband's surgery was rescheduled from last Thursday to tomorrow. After a frantic scramble to find an ER that could replace the feeding tube that came out Sunday, he'll be able to have the procedure knowing that he can let his mouth heal before attempting milkshakes again. He's scared. I'm praying.
An interesting thing happened two days ago. I thought of an old friend who I considered a mentor when I was a nineteen year old nursing student in 1981. We had small group meetings at her house once a week with she and her husband and another couple. We'd read and study the A Search for God material, then meditate. It was a peaceful time in my life. It gave me a good foundation for things to come.
I haven't spoken to her since about 1995 or so, but she was suddenly on my mind. I decided to google and try to find out if she's still alive. Her obituary popped up immediately. Her husband died in 2009, and she followed in 2010 at the age of 87.
I wrote her a little note. I thanked her for the God Calling , a devotional book she introduced me to all those years ago that has meant more to me than anything I've ever read. I have multiple copies of it on my bookshelf and have given many away to friends. I wrote a little more in my note to Penny, and then went to lunch in the employee break room.
I looked over at the table stacked with items for sale. It's been sitting there for weeks, and I've glanced at it a few times. This time I noticed something I hadn't before. A beautiful brown book with the engraved title Jesus Calling.
I read the intro, and the author not only mentions the influence of the God Calling book in her life, but Catherine Marshall's Beyond Ourselves. Both books are meaningful to me. I even included Catherine Marshall in my acknowledgements section of the book I wrote in 1994. I have a long history of thanking those that have passed over!
I asked our bookkeeper if I could order a copy. She said that the order was already faxed earlier in the day, but I could have the one on the table unless the distributor happened to bring along an extra copy the next day when he made his delivery.
I found the salesman sitting with the box of orders the following afternoon. "Did you bring an extra copy of this one?" I asked. "Yes, in fact I did bring one extra with me." "It's mine," I told him.
Wow. This stuff never ceases to amaze me.
I thanked Penny again for continuing to help me and point me to good reading material. Then I had a strong inner push to make the changes for my mother-in-law that I mentioned at the beginning of the blog. I do believe Penny had something to do with that. I just do.
True friendship never dies. Thanks again, Penny, wherever you are! I believe I'm ready for what's next.
My husband's surgery was rescheduled from last Thursday to tomorrow. After a frantic scramble to find an ER that could replace the feeding tube that came out Sunday, he'll be able to have the procedure knowing that he can let his mouth heal before attempting milkshakes again. He's scared. I'm praying.
An interesting thing happened two days ago. I thought of an old friend who I considered a mentor when I was a nineteen year old nursing student in 1981. We had small group meetings at her house once a week with she and her husband and another couple. We'd read and study the A Search for God material, then meditate. It was a peaceful time in my life. It gave me a good foundation for things to come.
I haven't spoken to her since about 1995 or so, but she was suddenly on my mind. I decided to google and try to find out if she's still alive. Her obituary popped up immediately. Her husband died in 2009, and she followed in 2010 at the age of 87.
I wrote her a little note. I thanked her for the God Calling , a devotional book she introduced me to all those years ago that has meant more to me than anything I've ever read. I have multiple copies of it on my bookshelf and have given many away to friends. I wrote a little more in my note to Penny, and then went to lunch in the employee break room.
I looked over at the table stacked with items for sale. It's been sitting there for weeks, and I've glanced at it a few times. This time I noticed something I hadn't before. A beautiful brown book with the engraved title Jesus Calling.
I read the intro, and the author not only mentions the influence of the God Calling book in her life, but Catherine Marshall's Beyond Ourselves. Both books are meaningful to me. I even included Catherine Marshall in my acknowledgements section of the book I wrote in 1994. I have a long history of thanking those that have passed over!
I asked our bookkeeper if I could order a copy. She said that the order was already faxed earlier in the day, but I could have the one on the table unless the distributor happened to bring along an extra copy the next day when he made his delivery.
I found the salesman sitting with the box of orders the following afternoon. "Did you bring an extra copy of this one?" I asked. "Yes, in fact I did bring one extra with me." "It's mine," I told him.
Wow. This stuff never ceases to amaze me.
I thanked Penny again for continuing to help me and point me to good reading material. Then I had a strong inner push to make the changes for my mother-in-law that I mentioned at the beginning of the blog. I do believe Penny had something to do with that. I just do.
True friendship never dies. Thanks again, Penny, wherever you are! I believe I'm ready for what's next.
Monday, March 19, 2012
A year of blogging
It was a year ago today that I started this blog. It was in March that we started having frequent daily help with Daniel for the first time ever. It was spring break, just as it is now, and I was enjoying my first year working for the public school system as a diabetes clinic nurse. Life was definitely getting simpler.
A few months later, my husband and I no sooner celebrated a year of marriage and he was diagnosed with cancer. There have been some rough days since last July 7 when the docs told him his sore throat wasn't an infection. But he is now cancer free. Not pain free, not able to eat yet, but the cancer cells are gone. On Thursday he'll have another surgery to remove areas of his jaw that the radiation damaged.
Once he recovers, the hope is that he'll be able to eat again with a jaw that doesn't hurt. That's the prayer.
There is a lot to be grateful for this spring. I took Daniel to the beach on Sunday and as we strolled I thought about just how much we have to be thankful about.
It's easier for me to be happy when he's smiling.
A few months later, my husband and I no sooner celebrated a year of marriage and he was diagnosed with cancer. There have been some rough days since last July 7 when the docs told him his sore throat wasn't an infection. But he is now cancer free. Not pain free, not able to eat yet, but the cancer cells are gone. On Thursday he'll have another surgery to remove areas of his jaw that the radiation damaged.
Once he recovers, the hope is that he'll be able to eat again with a jaw that doesn't hurt. That's the prayer.
There is a lot to be grateful for this spring. I took Daniel to the beach on Sunday and as we strolled I thought about just how much we have to be thankful about.
It's easier for me to be happy when he's smiling.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Dealing with the Rebel Yells
In 2010 we finally got on the state waiver for disability services. For the first time in over a decade, Daniel got some help with his daily stuff from someone other than me. I know he needed a break from my tired old self, and I needed to rejuvenate so as not to become a complete slug.
So, we began to separate a little bit. I took a few weekend trips, always no more than two nights in a row. The caregiver told me that by that second morning he would start to crank up and let her know that he was ready to get back to his usual routine.
Last week we got a new care provider. It happened suddenly, but I guess it was time. Our new person is a bit, shall we say, lethargic? Mama's not diggin' it.
Tonight I started thinking about what it would be like if Daniel were just a little more well behaved when we're out so that having someone here isn't such a big necessity. After all, he's gone pretty much everywhere with me his whole life. In the very early years, I didn't care if he yelled in church, or squealed in restaurants. With time I did care. I just handled it.
I would take him out of whatever building we were in, walk with him, put him on my lap, massage the sides of his mouth (did this vigorously on an airplane a few years back when he was doing his Rebel Yell at the top of his lungs). But I always remained committed to having him included in almost everything we did. Movies, nights out to hear Rich play, swimming, parties, church, whatever.
My parents helped me in this. They don't lose patience with Daniel when he gets antsy and starts to loudly whine or let out a scream. It's easier for me to roll with it when they're around. Unfortunately, there's about 1,000 miles between us, so those times are not often enough.
Lately I've felt that I'm just done. I don't want to struggle with him in church or leave him sitting in a nursery at age 13, so I don't go anymore. I've gone out to fewer and fewer restaurants and public places with him. The other night we all went to a movie, and I tried everything to keep him happy until I just left early and sat in the car.
Tonight I talked to him for a long time as he was falling asleep. Edgar Cayce called it pre-sleep suggestion, and I've used it a few times on myself. Sort of a hypnotic kinda thing. I gently repeated over and over that he goes with me to public places and he's happy and quiet. I talked on about specific places and also threw in that he walks well when we go out together (he can walk, but prefers to be pushed in his wheelchair),
I don't want to drag him places that he doesn't enjoy, but I really think it's better for him to be out with us as he has been all of his life than to sit at home with a half-asleep body he's not related to (when I fall asleep it's different.) Yes, we need reliable help, but I don't want to feel so desperate to get away without him.
His sister thinks maybe it's part of being thirteen, and that all kids his age are pains in the ass. That's probably partially true. But we've been dealing with sudden outbursts of noise forever. It's like an alarm clock that goes off randomly. I think he can learn to control it with enough encouragement. Or maybe I'm just dreaming. Either way, it can't happen if we don't try.
Here's the video I made when he turned twelve. That boy is my heart. I want him to have a good life.
So, we began to separate a little bit. I took a few weekend trips, always no more than two nights in a row. The caregiver told me that by that second morning he would start to crank up and let her know that he was ready to get back to his usual routine.
Last week we got a new care provider. It happened suddenly, but I guess it was time. Our new person is a bit, shall we say, lethargic? Mama's not diggin' it.
Tonight I started thinking about what it would be like if Daniel were just a little more well behaved when we're out so that having someone here isn't such a big necessity. After all, he's gone pretty much everywhere with me his whole life. In the very early years, I didn't care if he yelled in church, or squealed in restaurants. With time I did care. I just handled it.
I would take him out of whatever building we were in, walk with him, put him on my lap, massage the sides of his mouth (did this vigorously on an airplane a few years back when he was doing his Rebel Yell at the top of his lungs). But I always remained committed to having him included in almost everything we did. Movies, nights out to hear Rich play, swimming, parties, church, whatever.
My parents helped me in this. They don't lose patience with Daniel when he gets antsy and starts to loudly whine or let out a scream. It's easier for me to roll with it when they're around. Unfortunately, there's about 1,000 miles between us, so those times are not often enough.
Lately I've felt that I'm just done. I don't want to struggle with him in church or leave him sitting in a nursery at age 13, so I don't go anymore. I've gone out to fewer and fewer restaurants and public places with him. The other night we all went to a movie, and I tried everything to keep him happy until I just left early and sat in the car.
Tonight I talked to him for a long time as he was falling asleep. Edgar Cayce called it pre-sleep suggestion, and I've used it a few times on myself. Sort of a hypnotic kinda thing. I gently repeated over and over that he goes with me to public places and he's happy and quiet. I talked on about specific places and also threw in that he walks well when we go out together (he can walk, but prefers to be pushed in his wheelchair),
I don't want to drag him places that he doesn't enjoy, but I really think it's better for him to be out with us as he has been all of his life than to sit at home with a half-asleep body he's not related to (when I fall asleep it's different.) Yes, we need reliable help, but I don't want to feel so desperate to get away without him.
His sister thinks maybe it's part of being thirteen, and that all kids his age are pains in the ass. That's probably partially true. But we've been dealing with sudden outbursts of noise forever. It's like an alarm clock that goes off randomly. I think he can learn to control it with enough encouragement. Or maybe I'm just dreaming. Either way, it can't happen if we don't try.
Here's the video I made when he turned twelve. That boy is my heart. I want him to have a good life.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Small Stuff
I've had a few troubling days this week, but change is coming.
Daniel meets his new caregiver tomorrow morning, and hopefully March will bring a "new beginning, fresh start, the next chapter," etc. etc.
Rich has another surgery coming up in a couple of weeks, and ditto to all of the above trite statments. After all, they're overused for a reason.
One good thing. This morning when I went to the cafeteria to fill the ice bucket, a kindergartner who was sick a couple of days ago came up and hugged me and said, "I'm better, Nurse Carolyn!"
Also, Friday I will be out of the clinic accompanying my students with diabetes on a field trip to the zoo. There's nothing like little monkeys to make your week better.
It's almost springtime...
Daniel meets his new caregiver tomorrow morning, and hopefully March will bring a "new beginning, fresh start, the next chapter," etc. etc.
Rich has another surgery coming up in a couple of weeks, and ditto to all of the above trite statments. After all, they're overused for a reason.
One good thing. This morning when I went to the cafeteria to fill the ice bucket, a kindergartner who was sick a couple of days ago came up and hugged me and said, "I'm better, Nurse Carolyn!"
Also, Friday I will be out of the clinic accompanying my students with diabetes on a field trip to the zoo. There's nothing like little monkeys to make your week better.
It's almost springtime...
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Looking for Help
The following is a note I posted on Facebook this morning. I am determined to find someone who fits the bill!
Recently I hired an agency to provide respite care for Daniel. That company is Pediatric Services of America.
Daniel has a wonderful care provider who gets him ready for school every morning so that I can work and support the family, but she isn't able to do all of the hours that we have available. I need weekends and evenings covered, and I really want to find someone who feels drawn to do this because of a love for kids with unique needs and not just for monetary reasons.
Daniel is non-verbal, but he gets his point across. He walks with AFOs and someone beside him helping him so that he doesn't fall. He has a wicked sense of humor (cracks up when his sister gets in trouble).
I'm looking for someone who is strong enough to lift him in and out of the bathtub, wheelchair and car. Someone who has a sense of humor, is kind, honest and dependable. Most of all, though, I need someone who can find ways to keep him engaged in life, doing fun things. He loves water, so pool dates would be part of the gig. Long walks are another favorite. This isn't a sit around while he's bored out of his mind kind of job. I'm looking for someone who is excited about the work, and ready to commit to helping my son be up and out doing the things he loves.
If this prospect appeals to you, you can message me and I'll put you in touch with the agency. They will interview, screen, train and hire you. They take care of your paycheck and that end of things.
Thanks!
Carolyn
Recently I hired an agency to provide respite care for Daniel. That company is Pediatric Services of America.
Daniel has a wonderful care provider who gets him ready for school every morning so that I can work and support the family, but she isn't able to do all of the hours that we have available. I need weekends and evenings covered, and I really want to find someone who feels drawn to do this because of a love for kids with unique needs and not just for monetary reasons.
Daniel is non-verbal, but he gets his point across. He walks with AFOs and someone beside him helping him so that he doesn't fall. He has a wicked sense of humor (cracks up when his sister gets in trouble).
I'm looking for someone who is strong enough to lift him in and out of the bathtub, wheelchair and car. Someone who has a sense of humor, is kind, honest and dependable. Most of all, though, I need someone who can find ways to keep him engaged in life, doing fun things. He loves water, so pool dates would be part of the gig. Long walks are another favorite. This isn't a sit around while he's bored out of his mind kind of job. I'm looking for someone who is excited about the work, and ready to commit to helping my son be up and out doing the things he loves.
If this prospect appeals to you, you can message me and I'll put you in touch with the agency. They will interview, screen, train and hire you. They take care of your paycheck and that end of things.
Thanks!
Carolyn
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Quiet Times
Melody's been reading to Daniel almost every night for the past couple of weeks. I love the way he's peeking around to watch. As I listened to her read, the words from a Billy Joel song came to my mind, "These are the times to remember, for they will not last forever," and I snapped a picture to preserve it.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
It CAN be done
I read Nicola Schaefer's book about her daughter when Daniel was a baby, and I wrote about her impact on me here. Here's a video clip of her talking about her life in Canada. Catherine is my age (50) and living in her own home with supports.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
What's Happening Here
I spent (financed) big bucks on a Tempurpedic mattress for Daniel a couple of months ago so that I could move him out of his crib and into something large and comfy. The thinking was that squirm worm would be less likely to end up on the floor due to the cushiness of the mattress and the way it makes you want to stay put as you sink in.
Well, he slept at least part of the night on the floor next to his bed last night. I found him there this morning curled up. Looks like his super rolling powers are going to necessitate a rail of some sort. Although, one morning he was at the end of the queen size mattress nearly ready to roll off. It's close to the floor, so he can't get injured, but it's no fun sleeping on carpet.
In similar news, my mother-in-law has been in a nursing home since she fell on Christmas day. She'll be coming home Monday and we're in preparation mode trying to get all of the things she'll need to keep her from falling again. My step-son will be rooming with her, we bought a shower chair, toilet lift, and dusted off the walker that hubby used when he broke his back. Prayers for her safety are welcomed.
Speaking of my husband, he was pronounced cancer free in December, but now he has a new diagnosis as a result of the radiation that rid him of it. Osteoradionecrosis. Areas of his jawbone are dying. He's in a lot of pain and has to have 20 hyperbaric oxygen treatments followed by surgery, and ending with 10 more hbot. Again, prayers are appreciated more than you know.
My former husband and I owned a hyperbaric oxygen clinic that's now defunct. In many ways my life is full of irony.
I was able to meditate this morning while everyone slept, and I do feel the strength of knowing that I can't control any of this, and I can and will survive it.
That's my update. Feel free to appreciate your own bundle of troubles as you go, "Damn, that sucks!" They say if we put all our problems in a pile along with everyone else's and were told to choose, we'd keep our own. I can see that.
Time to keep on keeping on!
Well, he slept at least part of the night on the floor next to his bed last night. I found him there this morning curled up. Looks like his super rolling powers are going to necessitate a rail of some sort. Although, one morning he was at the end of the queen size mattress nearly ready to roll off. It's close to the floor, so he can't get injured, but it's no fun sleeping on carpet.
In similar news, my mother-in-law has been in a nursing home since she fell on Christmas day. She'll be coming home Monday and we're in preparation mode trying to get all of the things she'll need to keep her from falling again. My step-son will be rooming with her, we bought a shower chair, toilet lift, and dusted off the walker that hubby used when he broke his back. Prayers for her safety are welcomed.
Speaking of my husband, he was pronounced cancer free in December, but now he has a new diagnosis as a result of the radiation that rid him of it. Osteoradionecrosis. Areas of his jawbone are dying. He's in a lot of pain and has to have 20 hyperbaric oxygen treatments followed by surgery, and ending with 10 more hbot. Again, prayers are appreciated more than you know.
My former husband and I owned a hyperbaric oxygen clinic that's now defunct. In many ways my life is full of irony.
I was able to meditate this morning while everyone slept, and I do feel the strength of knowing that I can't control any of this, and I can and will survive it.
That's my update. Feel free to appreciate your own bundle of troubles as you go, "Damn, that sucks!" They say if we put all our problems in a pile along with everyone else's and were told to choose, we'd keep our own. I can see that.
Time to keep on keeping on!
Monday, January 30, 2012
The Key to Survival
In past posts I've talked about my fantasy of communal living for families who have kids with disabilities. The happenings at L'Arche are always on my radar. I also found Noah's Ark in Florida during one of my web surfs.
Both have a lot to offer. The problem is that they are for adults with disabilities who live away from home. My real interest is in a place that is created for parents and kids to live together in a community of like-minded people. Hence the commune image that won't leave my mind.
When Daniel's big sister was a baby, I got involved with the Waldorf education program in my city. I hung out with a group of moms who were part of the original initiative to get a school started here. I loved it.
Waldorf living means (in part) no television, specific types of toys that emphasize natural materials, and a focus on play for the young child rather than academics. It's tough to live in the real world and maintain such a strict lifestyle, but worth it if you can manage.
I incorporated some of the ideas I learned in my Waldorf days while Melody was a toddler, but it gradually went by the wayside and my kid watched Disney movies and played with Barbies like everyone else in the neighborhood. I didn't have the commitment it took to carry it out, and her father was not really enthusiastic about wooden toys and the absence of cartoons. (Still, until just a few months ago, Daniel slept on the lambs wool that I bought from one of their catalogs, and our kinder harp is in the living room next to the piano.)
Anyhow, 16 years later I discovered that Waldorf has a program for kids with disabilities. The one that intrigues me the most is this one. The downside to the program is that it's a residential school, not an intentional community that would include families. I like what they're doing, though.
I guess my vision is of a L'Arche/Noah's Ark/Camphill School that is made for families. One of the hardest parts of raising a child with multiple disabilities and unique medical needs is finding good help so that it's not all on a parent's shoulders. The best times for my family are the ones when my mom and dad are with us. We share the work. We enjoy Daniel without getting burned out or boring him. It's because we are doing it as a team, and everyone is fully invested. (And we love him more than life itself).
My dream is to lessen the fear of "what happens when I die" by finding or creating a place that eliminates the isolation that exists in our separate houses with our friends and family spread out over the map. For me, sending Daniel to live elsewhere is unthinkable. I understand that it's necessary for some parents, and I appreciate the agony involved in making the decision.
How beautiful it would be to live our days enjoying our kids with the support that assisted living gives. Forget about agencies and paid care providers. I want people around me who are in Daniel's life not for the money, but for the relationship.
Idealistic? Probably. But I really do think it's key. Right now I don't know where to start to make this dream real other than by giving it lots of time to incubate. Oh, and put it out there so that any of you reading who share these thoughts and want the same things can add your .02.
Both have a lot to offer. The problem is that they are for adults with disabilities who live away from home. My real interest is in a place that is created for parents and kids to live together in a community of like-minded people. Hence the commune image that won't leave my mind.
When Daniel's big sister was a baby, I got involved with the Waldorf education program in my city. I hung out with a group of moms who were part of the original initiative to get a school started here. I loved it.
Waldorf living means (in part) no television, specific types of toys that emphasize natural materials, and a focus on play for the young child rather than academics. It's tough to live in the real world and maintain such a strict lifestyle, but worth it if you can manage.
I incorporated some of the ideas I learned in my Waldorf days while Melody was a toddler, but it gradually went by the wayside and my kid watched Disney movies and played with Barbies like everyone else in the neighborhood. I didn't have the commitment it took to carry it out, and her father was not really enthusiastic about wooden toys and the absence of cartoons. (Still, until just a few months ago, Daniel slept on the lambs wool that I bought from one of their catalogs, and our kinder harp is in the living room next to the piano.)
Anyhow, 16 years later I discovered that Waldorf has a program for kids with disabilities. The one that intrigues me the most is this one. The downside to the program is that it's a residential school, not an intentional community that would include families. I like what they're doing, though.
I guess my vision is of a L'Arche/Noah's Ark/Camphill School that is made for families. One of the hardest parts of raising a child with multiple disabilities and unique medical needs is finding good help so that it's not all on a parent's shoulders. The best times for my family are the ones when my mom and dad are with us. We share the work. We enjoy Daniel without getting burned out or boring him. It's because we are doing it as a team, and everyone is fully invested. (And we love him more than life itself).
My dream is to lessen the fear of "what happens when I die" by finding or creating a place that eliminates the isolation that exists in our separate houses with our friends and family spread out over the map. For me, sending Daniel to live elsewhere is unthinkable. I understand that it's necessary for some parents, and I appreciate the agony involved in making the decision.
How beautiful it would be to live our days enjoying our kids with the support that assisted living gives. Forget about agencies and paid care providers. I want people around me who are in Daniel's life not for the money, but for the relationship.
Idealistic? Probably. But I really do think it's key. Right now I don't know where to start to make this dream real other than by giving it lots of time to incubate. Oh, and put it out there so that any of you reading who share these thoughts and want the same things can add your .02.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
What I pray for
Would I change him? I would and do provide him with the things that help him in this life, such as the medications that manage his seizures. I don't want him to suffer, but I have very limited control over that for anyone. I can only do what I can do.
I try new techniques to help him express himself and communicate. I advocate for services and connect with people who have something to teach and share that might help me be the parent he needs me to be.
I may be wrong, I have been often, but my philosophy is that he came into the earth with a mission. I was raised by parents who embraced the Edgar Cayce readings, and so my mind is of the persuasion that every soul is eternal and here with a purpose.
So, no, I'd have to say that changing Daniel is not something I fantasize about or wish for. My prayer for him is that he be surrounded by and experience happiness and love, contentment and joy. This morning we both seemed to be hitting the mark.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
When They Were Small
These photos were taken sometime in 2000 at Rockome Gardens in Illinois. My kids are two of the best things to happen to me in my half-century here.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Completely Normal
The microarray test, that is.
So, from here, no more testing until we can look at the entire genome. The capability is there, but scientists/doctors are not able to interpret it yet. That's several years down the road. And, as the counselor pointed out this morning, Daniel's issues may not be genetic.
"We may never know what caused Daniel's specific difficulties," the counselor said. I was expecting this result and some form of that statement.
Completely normal. I'm gonna go drink coffee and ponder that.
So, from here, no more testing until we can look at the entire genome. The capability is there, but scientists/doctors are not able to interpret it yet. That's several years down the road. And, as the counselor pointed out this morning, Daniel's issues may not be genetic.
"We may never know what caused Daniel's specific difficulties," the counselor said. I was expecting this result and some form of that statement.
Completely normal. I'm gonna go drink coffee and ponder that.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Still Wondering
I called the genetics office today to see if Daniel's results from the microarray are in. I was put on hold four times (and man, is the elevator music loud on their system) and finally the secretary talked to me.
"I can see that the results are in, but the counselor isn't available to talk to you right now. She'll have to get back with you."
"Will that be tonight or tomorrow? Because if it showed something, I REALLY want to know as soon as possible." Hell, it's only been thirteen years.
"Ok, she's in clinic for the rest of the day, but I'll send her a message and let her know that you're anxious for the results."
Since it's after six, she must be waiting to contact me. At least I'm off tomorrow and can start calling them myself bright and early. I don't want to wait until Monday, and I know how to be a nudge.
"I can see that the results are in, but the counselor isn't available to talk to you right now. She'll have to get back with you."
"Will that be tonight or tomorrow? Because if it showed something, I REALLY want to know as soon as possible." Hell, it's only been thirteen years.
"Ok, she's in clinic for the rest of the day, but I'll send her a message and let her know that you're anxious for the results."
Since it's after six, she must be waiting to contact me. At least I'm off tomorrow and can start calling them myself bright and early. I don't want to wait until Monday, and I know how to be a nudge.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Change
I'm enjoying Elizabeth's post this morning, and the song she shared is playing as I write.
My last post was about changing some things in myself. I used to be much more open. Somewhere along the way I started editing myself. I don't want to offend people, and I want to fit in and be liked. So alot of times I leave out parts of my story that I think might sound too weird, New Agey or out of the mainstream. I don't usually get into politics. I'm vocal at home, and with people who I know won't challenge me. That's pretty chicken shit.
I admire the outspoken. I was listening to the radio on the way to work the other morning and the DJ's were talking about some celebrities who identified publicly with a political party, and how they're doing themselves a disservice. "That's why you'll never know who we're voting for," the DJ ended with. It made me think. It's good to play it safe if you want to maintain popularity on the radio or in life. But it's the people who speak up that get our attention and really force us to figure out where we stand. And it's how true allies and friendships are formed.
I'll start with one thing. I believe that we are eternal, and that we have some choice regarding the life we enter and the people whose lives we'll be involved with.
Before Daniel was conceived I was working on a book proposal. ARE Press published my book 'Walking the Spiritual Walk' in 1994, and I wanted to follow it up with one about conscious conception and preparation for parenthood. One of the chapters I researched was the idea of conception mandalas. I read about them, and then made my own.
I read these books while I prepared the sample chapters and tried to live what I was writing.
The proposal was being considered by a publisher, and I had people on board to add their support on the back cover. Then Daniel was born and there was no time to write. I figured I'd come back to it later.
My first book was largely about my marriage to Daniel's dad, and when that didn't work out, I really lost faith. I questioned many of the things I thought I'd figured out. I felt very much like a failure. It shook my foundation, for sure.
I found out that life isn't as simple as I once imagined it to be. It's not neat. It's messy. It hurts. But if we aren't honest about our mistakes, our flaws and our Truths, we are stuck.
Here's to the Martin Luther King Jr.'s of the world, and all those who aren't afraid to speak their truth.
My last post was about changing some things in myself. I used to be much more open. Somewhere along the way I started editing myself. I don't want to offend people, and I want to fit in and be liked. So alot of times I leave out parts of my story that I think might sound too weird, New Agey or out of the mainstream. I don't usually get into politics. I'm vocal at home, and with people who I know won't challenge me. That's pretty chicken shit.
I admire the outspoken. I was listening to the radio on the way to work the other morning and the DJ's were talking about some celebrities who identified publicly with a political party, and how they're doing themselves a disservice. "That's why you'll never know who we're voting for," the DJ ended with. It made me think. It's good to play it safe if you want to maintain popularity on the radio or in life. But it's the people who speak up that get our attention and really force us to figure out where we stand. And it's how true allies and friendships are formed.
I'll start with one thing. I believe that we are eternal, and that we have some choice regarding the life we enter and the people whose lives we'll be involved with.
Before Daniel was conceived I was working on a book proposal. ARE Press published my book 'Walking the Spiritual Walk' in 1994, and I wanted to follow it up with one about conscious conception and preparation for parenthood. One of the chapters I researched was the idea of conception mandalas. I read about them, and then made my own.
I read these books while I prepared the sample chapters and tried to live what I was writing.
The proposal was being considered by a publisher, and I had people on board to add their support on the back cover. Then Daniel was born and there was no time to write. I figured I'd come back to it later.
My first book was largely about my marriage to Daniel's dad, and when that didn't work out, I really lost faith. I questioned many of the things I thought I'd figured out. I felt very much like a failure. It shook my foundation, for sure.
I found out that life isn't as simple as I once imagined it to be. It's not neat. It's messy. It hurts. But if we aren't honest about our mistakes, our flaws and our Truths, we are stuck.
Here's to the Martin Luther King Jr.'s of the world, and all those who aren't afraid to speak their truth.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Blue Monday
I wasn't at work very long this morning when I got one of the calls I don't like. It was Rich on the phone telling me Daniel was in the middle of a big seizure. His care provider was also still there, and this is the first time she's seen him seize.
I told Rich where the Diastat was (they already knew, but in times like these it's good to have the emergency response mom on the phone giving directions). I was talking to him while Rita gave it, and listened while he described the shaking and unresponsiveness.
My principal was at my door needing someone to help with a parent whose kid has ringworm. I got off the phone and talked to her and let the parent know what to do. Then I called my most wonderful boss, a nurse who cared for her autistic sister for many years. She found a float nurse to replace me right away.
In between calling a parent whose kid just vomited, and giving a few routine meds, I touched base with Rich to make sure Daniel was alright. He was sleeping in Rita's arms.
Within an hour of Daniel's seizure, I was back home. He's crying a little off and on and resting. He doesn't have a fever or any other signs of illness, so I'm pretty sure he may have lost some Topamax at some point (he likes to spit it out, and I'm not always super-diligent about checking his mouth after he takes it).
He's lying beside me now and seems pretty calm. I'll give some extra Topamax today and hope that this is the last of the Big Shakes for a long time.
I'm lucky I have an understanding boss, a great care provider and a husband who knows what to do. Still, I'm gonna eat a crispy English muffin with lots of jelly and wallow a little. It is Monday, after all.
I told Rich where the Diastat was (they already knew, but in times like these it's good to have the emergency response mom on the phone giving directions). I was talking to him while Rita gave it, and listened while he described the shaking and unresponsiveness.
My principal was at my door needing someone to help with a parent whose kid has ringworm. I got off the phone and talked to her and let the parent know what to do. Then I called my most wonderful boss, a nurse who cared for her autistic sister for many years. She found a float nurse to replace me right away.
In between calling a parent whose kid just vomited, and giving a few routine meds, I touched base with Rich to make sure Daniel was alright. He was sleeping in Rita's arms.
Within an hour of Daniel's seizure, I was back home. He's crying a little off and on and resting. He doesn't have a fever or any other signs of illness, so I'm pretty sure he may have lost some Topamax at some point (he likes to spit it out, and I'm not always super-diligent about checking his mouth after he takes it).
He's lying beside me now and seems pretty calm. I'll give some extra Topamax today and hope that this is the last of the Big Shakes for a long time.
I'm lucky I have an understanding boss, a great care provider and a husband who knows what to do. Still, I'm gonna eat a crispy English muffin with lots of jelly and wallow a little. It is Monday, after all.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Just a Quickie
I found an app yesterday for Daniel's new iPad, and this morning he's already used it appropriately! It's called Tap to Talk and it has albums with large, colorful pictures that you touch lightly (aka tap) and a voice says what the picture represents. This is big.
Daniel just touched "I need to go to the bathroom", so that's where he is now, and I'm off in a few to bring him back for more coffee talk.
This is great! Thanks again, Ken and Heather!
Daniel just touched "I need to go to the bathroom", so that's where he is now, and I'm off in a few to bring him back for more coffee talk.
This is great! Thanks again, Ken and Heather!
Monday, January 2, 2012
Dreams
The blog that inspired me to jump on the blogging bandwagon (later than most) is written by Lesley. Here is her latest post.
I have similar feelings, fears and longings rolling about in my mind. I want a simple, happy, peaceful life. For Daniel. For myself and the people closest to us who love us and keep us going. Like Lesley, I don't dream about vacations or having a hot body with a wardrobe fit to kill. It's not that I'm "above" those things, whatever that means. It's just that I have this teenage boy in my life who shifts my perspective and helps me clarify what I really, really want as our experience.
Lesley says this, "I sense that this was all written on her pretty little soul the very first day she came into this world. And my challenge will be to handle it. To deal with it, to make sense of it and to support her in every possible way. Am I am fearful? Yes. It makes me anxious, yes. But mostly it makes me sad. And more determined than ever to make every day a good day for Sarah, as best as it can be. I live in the moment, because her future isn't looking too hot."
She writes that Sarah is losing some of her skills, and without a diagnosis, Lesley isn't sure what the future holds in terms of prognosis.
Because of Daniel I have so many people in my life who deal with uncertainty, with more unknowns than most parents. True, none of us knows what twists and turns our lives will take. Not many people plan on cancer or life altering accidents. But this ride is different. If you aren't on it, I can't really fully explain the experience. It's something you have to live.
I do know that having a community of friends who "get it" makes all the difference. I thank you all. I'm ready to do it again in this New Year, this circa 2012. Here's to it!
I have similar feelings, fears and longings rolling about in my mind. I want a simple, happy, peaceful life. For Daniel. For myself and the people closest to us who love us and keep us going. Like Lesley, I don't dream about vacations or having a hot body with a wardrobe fit to kill. It's not that I'm "above" those things, whatever that means. It's just that I have this teenage boy in my life who shifts my perspective and helps me clarify what I really, really want as our experience.
Lesley says this, "I sense that this was all written on her pretty little soul the very first day she came into this world. And my challenge will be to handle it. To deal with it, to make sense of it and to support her in every possible way. Am I am fearful? Yes. It makes me anxious, yes. But mostly it makes me sad. And more determined than ever to make every day a good day for Sarah, as best as it can be. I live in the moment, because her future isn't looking too hot."
She writes that Sarah is losing some of her skills, and without a diagnosis, Lesley isn't sure what the future holds in terms of prognosis.
Because of Daniel I have so many people in my life who deal with uncertainty, with more unknowns than most parents. True, none of us knows what twists and turns our lives will take. Not many people plan on cancer or life altering accidents. But this ride is different. If you aren't on it, I can't really fully explain the experience. It's something you have to live.
I do know that having a community of friends who "get it" makes all the difference. I thank you all. I'm ready to do it again in this New Year, this circa 2012. Here's to it!
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