If this were an episode of something more titillating to view or read, the kind with rapt viewers eagerly awaiting a happy or scintillating ending, perhaps I might start this post with something like “dearest reader…” But no. This isn’t that kind of escapist retreat, nor can I predict a happy ending. A week ago
I was 14 when I was finally given a diagnosis for the birth defect on my right foot, and I have had two corrective surgeries on this foot. Many years ago, in my mid 20’s, I had just started seeing a popular, well-respected podiatrist within the healthcare system I worked for. He had started me
*Please note this is an extra post for the week, the main post which went up yesterday about Hannah will follow below this one A few weeks ago, I was sitting with my sister in a VUU sermon being given by their then interim minister, Rev. Wooden, and he clearly and concisely articulated a sentiment
In Arizona, once a kiddo is diagnosed with a qualifying disability, they can apply for both the Arizona Long Term Care System (ALTCS) and Division of Developmental Disabilities (DDD) services. When Tony was diagnosed with level three Autism, we immediately applied for both services because the insurance we had at the time would not cover
This is not a post designed for artistic eloquence, but rather one where I am speaking as a mother directly from my heart to the Arizona State Division of Developmental Disabilities, Governor Ducey, and all those responsible for funding disabilities services in this state. Whatever else we choose to leave behind from the emergency phase
Earlier this week I submitted comments to the Division of Developmental Disabilities as part of a legally mandated public comment period for proposed changes to the policy that governs prior authorization for assistive speech device technology, or AAC. For a while now my posting schedule has been every Friday, however I felt like for those
A couple of years ago, I was driving Tony to one of his many therapy appointments. As I pulled to a corner of an exit ramp, I lowered my window and held out some cash to a gentleman standing at the corner with a sign. He quickly met my eyes and then looked down, back
Much of my time feels like it’s not really my own right now- paid or unpaid- so I’m going to keep my words and explanations here as stripped down as possible.. A question could be posed after reading last week’s post: why would being a temporary direct care worker covering our son’s habilitation hours increase
November started with me plucking crayons like petals from a Ziploc bag, handing only one at a time to Tony, who colored an image of marigolds in short bursts while I talked to him about Dia de los Muertos. Coloring marigolds seemed more suited to our son’s current fine motor abilities than sugar skulls, which
This week, I really wanted to pull up the keys of my laptop and wrap them around my thoughts to skip out on writing a post altogether. Situational burnout has settled in like rusted dust, like a slowly tightening choker pulling me into an emotional exhaustion thicker than quicksand. Sometimes it feels like I am
