Friday, February 22, 2013

More Honours! ( #HAAwards and the #SWANS !)

Since my last post (all of two days ago), I've been honoured twice more!


 
The first is from the Wego Health - Health Activist AwardsDown Wit Dat (the blog) has been selected as one of the finalists for the Best Kept Secret Award.  You can see the finalists here.


The SWANs Blog Post Awards

The second notification is from the SWAN's.  My blog Fairytales was nominated for Best International Post

Thank you to both organizations and to whoever took the time to nominate me.  I am humbled.

Good luck to all the finalists!

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Community Pride

Once more, I would like to interrupt this blog for a special announcement...

Down Wit Dat has been nominated for an award from About.com!  That's two years in a row!

You like us!  You really like us!

This year, we have been nominated for Down Wit Dat - The Group, the discussion forum for Down Wit Dat (our Facebook page) and @Down_Wit_Dat our Twitter Feed. 

Confused yet?  I probably should have been a little more creative with the naming scheme.

However, I am very proud of our mighty little online community and I am honoured and thankful to whoever took the time to nominate us.

You can vote once a day, every day through March 19th. 


About.com's Readers' Choice:  Favorite Special-Needs Online Community Voting Here!

Congratulations to all the nominees!

We will now return you to your regularly scheduled blog...

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Circles

With all that's been going on, I'm surprised my head is still attached.  In just over a week and a half, we've gone from "Wyatt needs ear surgery" to "Wyatt's having his heart surgery NOW".  I guess there is some testimonial in there about parental fortitude or something, but to be honest, my head is too busy spinning to bother looking for it.  Instead, I'll rub my whiplash-sore neck and start planning our lives for the next little bit.

I don't know about your work week, but mine often comes in themes or flavours.  We'll get a whole lot of one diagnosis in for a bit and then won't see it again for six months.  One of the topics that came up in my eerily-connected "am-I-sure-I-am-not-having-ideas-of-reference?" week was the notion of complex care in direct relation to special needs.  Any parent or adult with special needs is well aware of all of this and balancing what seems like a takeout menu of doctors gets really old, fast.   But, to the uninitiated, it can seem overwhelming at first.

Last month, I ran across this story, where a Mom mapped out her son's care network.  Using a neural type map, she drew a series of ovals for the various supports she utilizes to manage her son's Coffin-Lowry Syndrome.  It is beautiful in it's complexity and it resonated a bit with me as it is often quite difficult to explain to people who all is involved in Wyatt's circle of care.  Or, they simply assume that I whisk him down to a specialized clinic every so often for a once-over.  Nope.  Not how it works.

This is Ms. Lind's original neural map for her son Gabriel:

Gabe's Circle of Care.  There are 102 items on this network including 3 barriers (for one child).

Each of the ovals denotes a department, agency or subject that is to be addressed.  The doors represent barriers to care.  It is clean, it is neat and it puts into context how complex the life of a person with complex needs can be.

That got me thinking a little more.  One of the more popular arguments put forth when recieving a diagnosis of Down syndrome is that it is "too much" work/effort/money.  I can't speak to the latter as that will vary from country to country.  I can however talk about the first two.  Just looking at the above picture, I thought that my map would be nowhere near that complex.  Just for giggles, I borrowed my eldest son's Crayola markers and a sketch pad and sat down to figure out how Team Logan fared.  I used the same headers as Ms. Lind and as I went along, I realized that I was having drawing envy as mine was no where near as big (even with my giant printing-with-fat-markers-writing).  I added in everyone's needs, just to fluff it up a bit.  This is what I came up with:

Team Logan's Circle of Care.  There are 78 items including 7 barriers (for a family of 5).
I came up with a map that had 78 points of interest for my entire family and 7 barriers.  I even added doctors I haven't seen in a while, just to pad it out a bit more.  Most of the barriers that we currently face involve other people and our support circles.  The only barrier to Wyatt's health care that I could  see was the distance and the time involved with dealing with Sick Kids (ie:  driving, gas, parking, food).   Also, there will be additions to this network in time:  for example, the school bubble will flesh out a bit with any needs that any of the kids may have in the future and I hope to get Quinn into music lessons soon.

Even with my gigantic printing, you can see there is a lot less here.  Also, I hesitated to put Wyatt at the centre of our family because he is in fact, not;  he's one of the kids.  I put him there simply for consistency. I also added a few more supports, including this blog and some groups/pages I belong to (and a few more that I've helped create).

Once this map was finished, I started thinking about other families. With her permission, I drew up my BFF's family, representing a family of four, two adults and two kids.  She is notably a "dance mom" and her one child has more needs than the other.  Therefore I chose "Girl" to represent the centre of the family.

Team BFF, an active family of four without other special needs.  There are 61 items, including 5 barriers. 
I'm sure there are more things that I have forgotten, but these will have to do for now.  Their barriers are very similar to ours;  there are limited government programs that they qualify for due to income level and supports are impacted by distance and time.  Looking at it one way, Team Logan a "family with special needs" has an average of 16 items per person.  Team BFF, a healthy, competitive-sporty-type family has an average of 15 items per person. 

Not a lot of difference, frankly.

Although I make it sound like our life is the busiest one ever, it isn't.  My BFF has two typical children and she spends her life in the car.  As it turns out, at least for our two families, having a child with Down syndrome isn't in itself any more complex than having a child in competitive dance.  In fact it's currently astronomically cheaper (and involves a lot less glitter).

I guess my point is this:  yes, my life is a little busier due to Wyatt's extra chromosome.  However, to say that it is in any way unmanageable or intangible due to this detail would be completely incorrect.  This too would fall under the "I don't know how you do it" header that I've already mentioned.  He has a few more doctors, therapies and appointments than other kids his age, I suppose... but no more than the rest of us.

As I plan out the next few weeks and mobilize my support system for Wyatt's upcoming surgery, I'll leave you with a challenge.  Map out your family, your doctors, your specialists, your kids activities, coaches, teachers and support system.   As parents we juggle a lot, most of it unconsciously.  Sometimes it's good to regroup and take stock of all that this parent job involves, whether "typical" or "special needs".  You might be surprised at the results. 


Saturday, February 9, 2013

Say "Hello" to the Other Shoe

I'm not a fan of surprises.

I should really qualify that by saying that I like good surprises, like birthday cakes and handmade cards and discovering that there are some chips left. I also like all the new things that my kids come up with to amaze me with. What I don't like are completely huge, mind-blowing, turn-your-whole-world-on-its-arse surprises.

After less than stellar week with appointments and whatnot, I was left feeling a little drained and a whole lot blue.  I was tired, sure, as I've been since I conceived my eldest, however this was different.  I started to wonder if I was depressed, actually.  I'm also never really sure what the universe is trying to tell me either, as I went in for two very long, very intense twelve hour day shifts--those days that completely tug at your heartstrings whilst simultaneously sucking what is left of your brain out your left ear.  There were quite a few things that hit a little too close to home and I found myself in a bit of a spiritual dilemma in spots, including my advocacy and this membership card I have to the special needs mom club.  Any or all of these things are fertile ground in which the seeds of despair will sprout.

Thursday morning found me looking after the babies as Sean picked up a few groceries.  It was my "turn around day", namely the third day of my tour where my days become nights and I have a morning "off" [read: to get a few things done].   Wyatt and Zoe were puttering around me in the living room and I was considering making us an early lunch when the phone rang.

It was Sick Kids.  If you remember our recent trip down there to see the cardiologist, we were told that if the surgeon opted to repair Wyatt's AVSD (now ASD) this year, we would get a call in three to six months to book our pre-op tour.  You can imagine my surprise when I picked up the phone to find out that Wyatt had been officially presented already and the surgeon was now looking to book him.  I was kinda half listening and half trying to find a pen (and trying to get away from the noise of the kids) when she started giving me potential dates.  I was also absentmindedly trying to remember if I had anything major happening near the end of summer or fall where I expected the surgery dates to be.  She tossed me the first date:

"Valentines Day, February 14th."

(What the hell did she just say?...)
"This year?"  I squeaked at her.  "As in next week?"

"Yeeeaaaaah...." [Very Lumberg-esque]

Whatever melancholy was plaguing me was completely gone and I was now in full fledged panic mode (all the while looking around to see if I was being Punk'd).  I am (surprisingly!) off for Valentine's Day this year and had made plans to bake cupcakes and get completely gooey with the kids.  Realistically, there was no way in hell I was going to be able to organize the time off and the necessary arrangements to be able to pick up and live downtown at his bedside for almost 10 days.  Not to mention the day itself is more than slightly ghoulish and two days before their birthday.  He was not spending their birthday in the hospital.  It was just not going to happen and I told her so. 

The next few dates she offered up were in March and not much better.  I explained to her that I only had a limited amount of vacation time in the bank at present (I do get 5 weeks a year now, but I had cleared it out in anticipation of saving up for a late summer or fall surgery date).  After a back and forth between her and my husband on his cell, we finally settled on April 3, with a pre-op of April 2nd.

April 3rd. 
Just over seven weeks.
Holy f☠cking sh☠tballs!

I know this day has been coming since his diagnosis a month before he was born and I'm all for the "sooner rather than later" philosophy.  I've also seen the leaps and bounds my son has made since the VSD has closed; imagine how awesome things will be once he has the ASD and the valves repaired as well.  I also have read, seen and heard hundreds of parents like myself who have been through this with their child and everyone has come out the other side for the better.

But, that doesn't change the fact that in this relatively small amount of time, I have to move heaven and earth to get ready.  At the same time, despite the practical, nurse part of my brain rationalizing how well much easier this will be, the mommy part of my brain is quite noisily going mad in the corner.  Once upon a time, I said that finding out about his heart issues was the hardest day of my life.  Now we are finally here and dealing with all of this, I really am starting to know what 'hard' actually looks like.  It's not a nice feeling.  Not at all.

As I mobilize our support system, I only ask one thing:  say a little prayer, sprinkle glitter, light a candle, shake a chicken, whatever it is that you do... and think of us here at Team Logan.  The next little while is going to stretch already taught nerves.  The storm I spoke of at the start of this year is now blowing in.  I can't help but watch the clouds roll on the horizon, while hoping the supplies hold out.


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