Yesterday was a rough day for me. We had a service plan review (“SPR”) meeting for the girls, which means the case workers and Mama and a third party reviewer go over her case and what she needs to do to get her kids back. I get to attend as a foster parent.
Then later in the day, the case worker came for her monthly home visit.
The story told at both of those appointments was basically that Mom is on track to get Sunny and the three siblings who are with a relative back.
I know Mama loves her kids tremendously, but believe she’s ill equipped to care for the three children with medical problems. One of those three – Sprout – is already on a path to be adopted by us mostly because she’s too much for Mama to juggle because of her medical needs. But the other two kids with medical needs it seemed were on a path to go back to her.
The care we are providing for the two who are with us requires tremendous effort, strong English skills, basic medical knowledge, a drivers license (I don’t think Medicaid cabs go interstate? Maybe I’m wrong), a strong backbone, the fundamental inability to give up, a basic working knowledge of insurance and how to work through and around it, a legal background, and the ability to turn rage into fuel for pursuing things further.
Sadly I’m not joking nor exaggerating. Navigating the Medicaid system and medical system for a child with severe medical needs is horrible.
Mama doesn’t speak English, and even with a translator would never push roughshod past the first 15 “nos” to get to the “yes.” She can’t understand the process of changing insurance carriers, getting diagnoses, getting recommendation letters, getting referrals, and pursuing appeals to get approvals for out-of-network providers. And that’s before the care even starts! Hell, honestly? The case worker doesn’t even get it all! How can we expect a woman who doesn’t speak English, doesn’t drive, and is completely unsavvy about medical care to get done what these girls need?
I went to bed sad and frustrated.
I woke up sad, frustrated, and anxious because we had court scheduled for this morning and I expected it to go like my meetings yesterday had gone.
Instead, the judge got it. So did the children’s attorney. And court went nothing like I expected it to.
At the end of the court appearance, I had signed up to take the third sister (age 13) on a temporary basis to work her through this medical system and get her to Nemours and get her through a critical surgery with a complex recovery process. I don’t know if it will happen as the case worker is still working on getting her the care she needs while she’s at the relative’s house, but it might happen.
After court, when I told my husband that we might take her for a little while, his head didn’t completely explode so I take that as a good sign. I was worried he’d go draw up divorce papers but he didn’t. God bless him. He never does draw up divorce papers over my bleeding heart decisions about kids. At least not yet. I know he’s been losing sleep about this sister’s medical care too. He’s probably also been losing sleep over the possibility I might take on something else like this too though! After all, after 23 years together and nearly 20 years of marriage, the man does know me.
Today I learned this judge understands how complex the medical care system is, and how significant the care is that these three girls need. I learned that a judge can totally rattle the County’s plans and make their lives more complicated in a very short period of time. I learned that even the most mild-mannered judge might have a line that can be crossed.
What’s next? Well. We carry on as usual. We wait. So really nothing changed. And yet lots sort of changed, too.
In order to take this third sister even short term, we would need a minivan STAT. Getting one in this car sales climate would stink. And more pressingly, we would need to shift some things around in our house in crazy ways. We don’t have a downstairs bedroom and would need one. Could we come up with a makeshift one that would pass the county’s scrutiny? I hope so. Could we put the girls in our room and use theirs? More plausible, but how would she access it with her medical issues and upcoming surgeries?
Maybe she won’t come here at all, but if not I’m concerned her medical needs won’t be met. She’s a super sweet kid who deserves the best possible health and medical care. Gah. There’s no good answer, that’s for sure.
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