This week is a doozy
Physical therapy for my
stabbing back pain

A doctor willing to try to
straighten my scoliosis
by strengthening my
uncooperative muscles
okay, we’ll see

Meeting with the local
juvenile court to establish
my family team case management

They came to the house
yesterday to meet the kids
There was no, “Hi, so nice to
see you. Could you open your
refrigerator?”

My Child has been approved
for his online homeschool.
He has a schedule and a plan
in place in case he gets sent
to a detention home when we
go to court today.

Yeah, today. He’s awake at
six am. He asked me about making
plans with his friends for Friday.
This kid’s glass is half full.
He really did not get this from me.

I will never attempt to crack the
code of the teenage American boy.

Girlie’s case management team is
coming to meet with us here to check in
A social worker in my house still
makes me nervous. Flashbacks to Children’s
Services when Girlie was young and
newly diagnosed with epilepsy.

Weekly therapy for the mother
who can’t seem to get it together enough
to stop these pseudo seizures
Psychogenic non-epileptic seizures

So we went to court yesterday and
My Child was arraigned for the dumb
event with his brother in June.

In home reporting requires that he
be supervised as he was supposed to be
supervised in the house of his father.

He has a curfew of 8pm
and has to call in to speak with the
probation officer two times a week.

We have his pretrial in two weeks.
He will have a guardian ad litem.

I made it through the hearing and a meeting
then I had a seizure half way down the steps.
The joy of these things is I get a warning
twitching, aura, dizziness before I pass out.

I’ve learned over the past year that
slamming my head on concrete to test
density is a character flaw. If the
floor looks hard from six feet up,
I should believe it without having to test it.

No, I don’t need an ambulance, even if I’m
slurring and looking like I’m having a stroke.
I brought a back up driver and the bailiff
kindly loaned me a wheel chair to get me to the car.

If that wasn’t stressful enough I had to
deal with a call from my brother when I got home.

“It must be my brother, my brother from Oz.
Why have you come to haunt me? Oh, brother from Oz.”
(Existential Blues by T-Bone Really, the lyrics are
“It must be the wizard, the wizard from oz…)

Compassion comes in many forms:
The shoulder pat.
The “I feel you” chest bump/quarter hug.
The “You poor thing…”
And finally, the grand inquisition

that my brother employs to show caring.
Don’t get me wrong, he only calls to
check on me during a crisis. Never
to wish us well, but to make sure
I’m handling my chaos with efficiency.

To make sure I have consulted the correct experts
questioning the diagnoses and requesting a
second opinion. Back seat driving.

Here, let me count to ten:
One grumble
Two mumble
Three he’s annoying
Four he’s insulting
Five he’s smug
Six he’s condescending
Seven he’s judgemental
Eight he’s my brother
Nine he’s never going to change
Ten It comes from good intentions

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions”
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

So, when a person does what they
think is best, in spite of what you
have requested they do in case of your
emergency (because I am actually the expert
in my life) It makes me feel disregarded
when someone cannot respect my wishes.

Sure, develop a backbone and flaunt it.
Wear it like a badge of honor, hah!
Good luck with that.
You let me know how that works.
I’m building what I never had.

I’m still trying to play with
the big kids on the playground of life.
A life preserver of self esteem doesn’t
help when the big kids have the ethics
of sharks in a feeding frenzy.

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Any thoughts on the above post are appreciated! Otherwise, I think I must be living under a rock.

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