A great school - but not for the students

I gave a lift yesterday to a woman I recognized from C.'s "alma mater".

Of course, during the ride I asked her about the state of the school since C.'s graduation. It had switched, at that time, from a private to a government-run school so I was curious about the impact that ensued.

The woman raved about the change. When I pressed her for details, she cited "benefits and gifts to the staff" noting that. teacher's aides, for instance, now work only five instead of six day weeks and only until 2:30 pm.

All in all, she gushed, things are great.

Then I asked her how the administrative switch had affected the children. Were they receiving more therapies, for instance? (While C. was there, the number of therapies per week was piddling. At best, one half hour session per week of physical, occupational and speech therapies).

"No", she divulged readily. "They receive fewer therapies."

"But everybody seems pleased," she added. "I don't hear any parents complaining".

I choked, silently... This woman was unabashedly lavishing praise on the new administrators although the children were suffering.

And those children are entrusted to her care. Not very reassuring, right?

Thoughts anybody?

PS: We didn't manage to get to the neurologist this week as intended. But, for now, we aren't feeling the urgency since C. has grown weary of that mysterious vomiting and has even cut back on her central fevers. The Hubby plans to meet the neurologist next week to discuss strategies for reducing seizures. Yeah, I know, he'll go without C. since she's been thoroughly examined by the pediatrician just last week. Yeah, I know, we never seem to give up the futile fight.

Still plagued by pressure sores, C. graduates

The inflatable mattress overlay I mention in the post. The cylinder
on the right is both container and pump.

The pressure sores are sprouting like mushrooms after a rainstorm. I now spend 40 minutes daily re-bandaging six of them, with one a double header. Every small sore  blossoms into a whopper.

So I finally contacted the pressure-sore expert whom our pediatrician had recommended (yes, at 21, C. is still in his care; more on that later).

He was very responsive, requested photos of the sores, ordered fresh blood tests along with a visit by an occupational therapist in order to have C.'s sleeping and sitting equipment evaluated.

While in waiting mode, the Hubby took C.'s malfunctioning air mattress to our equipment lending center for replacement. He was told that it was actually a useless model and we were upgraded to the inflatable mattress overlay in the photo above (from here).

We were also told by the expert there that we must limit C.'s time in her wheelchair. She should  be seated only for meals, spending the rest of the day either lying, standing in a stander or sprawled in a bean bag. Live and learn.

But until we can get that new equipment, she still sits quite a lot in her wheelchair.

Today, still awaiting a response from that kind pressure sore doctor re the photos and blood results, I called his clinic. Lo and behold, the kind doctor has disappeared on an overseas vacation that will last until the end of the month but didn't bother to share that with me five days ago.

So I made an appointment with his substitute for this week and will update afterwards

Along with the pressure sores, we have embarked on life with C. at home all day. Here she is last Thursday at the end of her final day of school:

C. on her last day of school

Many people we know - good, well-intentioned folks, some close friends others staffers at C.'s school - have asked us why we aren't putting her into an institution and they all specify one. It's actually a chain of large, closed institutions scattered throughout this country that is highly regarded by the general public and lavishly funded by our government. I've grown weary of delivering my anti-institutionalization lecture. So sometimes I just say "no" and skip the explanation.

It's getting tiresome and infuriating. I mean, when will this society get it? A child isn't somebody you evict and dump on strangers because the going got rough.

Just a year ago, our major concern with C. was the intense summer heat and dehydration which landed her in the ER overnight. Ah, for the good ol' days.

And on a positive note, here's a tour of a stunning playground designed to cater to the needs of children with severe disabilities: Perhaps we can all use this as a model for a neighborhood playground that our children could enjoy.