Things have been pretty crappy 'round the casa lately. My son came away from summer camp with one close friend, and, of all the healthy, happy, normal kids, he wound up with the psychopath. I'm not using the term lightly--the kid is completely nuts. Violent, stupid, rude, medicated, homeschooled because they won't have him at public school anymore (as opposed to "homeschooled by choice"), and constantly throwing out things like "the only reason I don't murder my parents is because I want them to get cancer so I can watch them die slowly, in agony" and "I want to join the military so that I can murder people and get away with it."
I know this how?
Because our boy's moods and behaviors began to become so alarming, so dark and different, that we (I) checked his text messages.
Now, he has no "real" contact with this whackjob. Until summer camp. And I'm incredibly concerned about that. Concerned enough that I want my husband to apply as a volunteer counselor.
In the meantime, I've limited the time our boy can text with this freak. We're torn--do we contact this nutball's parents? Let them know? I mean, how could they miss it, right?
Right?
I know this how?
Because our boy's moods and behaviors began to become so alarming, so dark and different, that we (I) checked his text messages.
Now, he has no "real" contact with this whackjob. Until summer camp. And I'm incredibly concerned about that. Concerned enough that I want my husband to apply as a volunteer counselor.
In the meantime, I've limited the time our boy can text with this freak. We're torn--do we contact this nutball's parents? Let them know? I mean, how could they miss it, right?
Right?
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On the Dad front, things are markedly better. They have him on his feet, the tracheostomy has been closed, he's only on oxygen for a couple of hours a day, and he's cruising about the halls with a walker. Eating semi-solids, and they're moving him to a rehab facility next week.
Good news, huh?
Sadly, there is a downside. He's got a whopping case of "ICU Psychosis," which, among other things, has him not remembering me a good part of the time, and not remembering that we're close all the time. In effect, he's lost ten years, and the fifty before that are come and go. Some flat out delusions, a fair bit of "I'm being persecuted" going on, and he only yesterday figured out that the woman he's married to is the woman he remembers from way back.
It will probably get better, though the symptoms can linger for a long while after release. What a mess.
He's been off the smokes for over 60 days now, and, other than one raging tantrum, he's been okay with that. In fact, he's talking about how great it will be to not be spending that money. Sadly, his wife is still smoking. She says she'll quit when he comes home. We'll see.
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And, to wrap it up, I want to talk about medical care in the United States. I want to talk about a young woman with huge plans for a wedding in Ireland and a happy life with her new husband and baby. Instead, she found herself buried under massive, devastating bills associated with her baby's serious medical problems. To paraphrase Cassie, you open a bill and it's for 47,000 dollars, and what can you do besides toss it on the table and not read it? Add to that her increasing depression, a combination of PPD and the crippling stress of her baby's health problems and the murderous costs?
You have a young woman who takes her own life.
Cassie was so fresh in this world, she was young, breathtakingly lovely, full of love and so loved. And now she's dead. People say that the health care debate is political, but it's not. It's human. It's not about numbers and ideological persuasions, it's about individual human beings.
And the world is a poorer place without this one.
Just a short time ago, Cassie started a fundraising page for her beautiful boy. Have a look. Give if you can. Share if you will.
Thank you.
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