Gage and Quinn had dental appointments today. It was rescheduled for today when I didn’t want to go out on a snow day north of Atlanta on one of worst parts of the highway that circles our fine city. No.

So anyway, the appointment. Gage and Quinn have been seeing this dentist each since they were three. Dr. Teddy, as we affectionately call him, is the only special needs dentist we know. He just knows how to talk to kids with differences and he thinks about pre-pulling teeth antibiotics for post transplant kids, he also has privileges at the local Children’s hospital to perform dental procedures on kids who are under anesthesia for other procedures.

He’s pretty old but still kicking it and we’ll see him until he quits. And that will be a sad day for many a special needs parents and their kids. Take into consideration that he’s not passed on his skill to another dentist and we’re in sad shape in the city.

Gage is tired of poking and prodding. He just is. Unfortunately because of the nature of Gage’s shut down response to life over the last two years he’s not been into addressing it in any huge way. Snippets of  processing the information and sharing it but not much. Not enough for us to use therapeutically.

So last night when I reminded Gage about the dentist appointment this conversation took place…

Gage: “I don’t want to go.”

Me: “I know hon, but we have to take care of our teeth…I want you to keep your teeth!”

Gage: “I hate it though, he makes me choke!”

Me: “What makes you choke? Because we can talk to Dr. Teddy and I bet he will try to make it better for you.”

Gage: “The water squirt thingy makes me choke because it goes straight in my throat like this (makes gurgle) and I don’t like that sucker thing either, I don’t like the way it feels.”

Me: “So how about this? How about I write those things down and give to him as a reminder AND we talk to him before you you even sit in the chair and see if we can come up with a solution with him? What about that?”

Gage: “Okay.”

So I made Quinnlin go first (she’s got no problem with Dr. Teddy) because Gage asked and to give him a little more time to talk to me if he wanted. I pointed out the notes I wrote on Gage, said he’d had a recent hospitalization (pointed to my head and twirled my finger). When it was Gage’s turn I put Quinnlin in the waiting room and brought him…

Me: “Dr. Teddy, before Gage sits down he wanted to make sure I talked to you about a couple of things. Okay? He’s really stressed out about this appointment and he told me it is because he chokes when you spray water in his mouth and he asked if you can warn him and give him time to close his throat. And also, he’d rather spit then have you use the sucker thingy.”

Gage: “Yeah. (Gage then demonstrates how he closes his throat) I don’t like it! I makes me choke and I don’t like it at all!”

Dr. T: “Oh, I’m sorry about that and I am so glad you told your mom and that you are telling me, because of course!  I would be HAPPY to tell you about the water spray and vacuum and in fact, why don’t we see how LITTLE water we can use and how LITTLE we can use the vacuum! Would that be okay?”

Gage: “Okay.”

Then I have another conversation to Gage to reiterate that he has to use his words when he’s uncomfortable or needs a break and Dr. Teddy will listen to him. You know what? It wasn’t a horrible appointment. Gage did great. Said he didn’t choke once but didn’t want to admit it was okay. Said something about still not liking going to the dentist.

Gage and Quinn then went to pick out surprises from the vending machine (by tokens) and Dr. Teddy thanked me for how I handled the situation and said something about what a good mom I was to Gage and Quinn. He said how he was always so impressed with how I am helping the kids by really teaching them  how to work with doctors and that through everything we’ve been through he was always so impressed with my mothering.

And then I started crying.

I thanked him for saying something, he handed me a tissue and I left with the kids. Told Gage all afternoon how proud I was of how he TALKED and USED HIS WORDS (for crying out loud) to let me help him with his appointment. I said, “I think it worked out quite well, don’t you?

In perfect Gage form he said, “Yeah, but I wouldn’t say it like that!”

I’m hoping today he found a little bit of his voice.

If you saw Gage playing on a playground with Laura you’d believe he was “normal.” He runs and jumps and talks and he smiles (now anyway).

It’s from the inside or the inner circle where you know something is off, not normal (by society’s standards). At age 11 he can’t really manage anything on his own, not relationships, home work requirements, reports, simple worksheets, nothing. He has to have one-on-one help for everything in his life both school work and personal. He isn’t able to take responsibility for anything really as we have to tell him to do everything.

Gage is managed like you would not believe. He is walked through everything in his life. I want him to be independent. I pray for his independence. I work everyday towards his future independence.

But I wonder if that is fight I won’t win because it’s not possible.

I wonder if Gage lacks something that he needs in order to be completely independent. For sure he is an independent thinker on some of the things that interest him. But those are not really responsibilities like school, home work or life skills.

It might not be a proper question to ask right now at this time in his life. He’s newly medicated for symptoms that were holding him back, he’s in therapy that might work a little bit better now, and he’s working better at school. So who knows?

Maybe all boys his age (his is adjusted because of delays so he is a year behind) need what Gage does but I doubt it. We can’t just hand him a worksheet from school and tell him to do it. We have to sit with him, encourage him, plan around a mini-meltdown (two today sent him crying to his room), then we have to hold our tongue when he ignores, is disrespectful (ignoring this even is part of the behavior plan for now) or does something irritating (which is often, ohlemmetellyou).

But he has a light somehow,  remarkably so, because for what he has been through you would think it would be dark forever. Sometimes you can even see the light. Can that light grow into independence?

Only time (and love, medication, therapy, a group of teachers, patience) will tell.

Gage was overtired Sunday due to an overnighter at the G’parents and the unfortunate desire to sleep with the dog because said dog keep him up in various intervals throughout the night. “

Which is fine, really is it, except when it’s not fine.

Gage loves his sleep, always has. Yes, it’s true, hold on here…WE SLEEP TRAINED HIM when he was a baby (can’t use that excuse for his behavior since we also sleep trained Quinnlin) and happy we did. We’re routine people, and more so when it became apparent that Gage does better with a routine he can depend on. So that broken up sleep on Saturday night? It messed with his attitude as it does with most of us when we are lacking good sleep. Quinnlin also had her share of attitude problems because of a weekend camping trip for Girl Scouts but again, with the tiredness.

Sad thing  is that it carried into Sunday afternoon. The kids had play therapy (started back up for Gage and Quinn’s first appointment) from 1-3 and after that the attitude problem didn’t improve for him. So around 5:00 when I realized it could escalate into hell I decided to get both the kids into bed early. Like early, early. We moved our evening routine up nearly 2 hours by having dinner at 5:00 and in bed by 6:20.

Gage asks, “Why is it so light out?”  Julian replied, “It’s that time of year.”  No, he can’t and doesn’t really pay attention to time…we like to say that is ONE THING IN OUR FAVOR with a kid with developmental delays.

Sadly the early bedtime didn’t help for all of Monday. So the end of the day he was having trouble with frustration at a hard (for him) task and the shutdown began. Monday evening wasn’t much better so there was a shutdown during homework of which involved him having a mini-meltdown (honestly, compared to you know, a MENTAL HOSPITAL BREAKDOWN ADMITTANCE, it was a walk in the park) and me trying to talk to him, put him in time out, and well, it didn’t go well. Not at all.

Well-rested meant that we should have seen improvement but Tuesday brought tiny shut downs. Luckily I had an appointment with our behaviorist for a Gage Refresher! Where  the good doc reiterated and reminded and confirmed and validated me about ignoring the bad behavior. When he shuts down it usually involves him running to his room with a trail of destruction on the way…shoes thrown, chairs tipped over, yelling, crying. So in discussion with the doctor we decided that when this happens WE WILL NOT follow, talk, try to reason, punish or anything — this means NO REACTION unless it is true aggression. This goes against every parental muscle, let me tell you. We decided together (the good doc and I) that these shut downs and running away are kind of like time outs anyway. So we’re just not going to call them that to him (cause he will not sit in time outs anymore). It’s like our secret. He storms out, it’s a – self imposed – time out.

The important part of this secret is to know that we have to come back to the task at hand; to the thing that set him off in the first place. Which on Monday night the shut down lasted about 20 minutes, then we got back on track and finished what we were doing (draft for a book report) and we had a good evening.

Today after school he worked on his computer homework (online) and we started on the final of the book report there was an incident. He and Quinn got into to words, a pencil was thrown, a stomping off that involved a chair pushing over and plant leaf pulling and up to his room he went. I did not say a word, just looked at the clock and started my 5 minute secret time out and waited.

Then I said, “You ready Gage? Because I’m ready for you!” Imagine the happy place inside me, where that came from.

And it happened. He sat back down, calmly, not sulking and worked for nearly an hour on writing, which is one of his many challenges and has cause many a shut down. Not tonight though. He did some of his best work and he was proud of it. He also did a project (that involved writing) for scouts. That doesn’t happen very often and it was nearly unbelievable. Today we also happened to tweak a med (+) so I don’t know if it was that or how we are handling the shut downs, but it was so much better.

Post shut down, an evening of typical homework and cooking dinner and laughing? Well, that’s what I thought it would look like before I had kids.

I know it sounds to the parent with average kids like this is a small thing; our 4th grader completing a book report (modified to be easier, even) without tears and yelling and whining between us and him but it really is remarkable. I feel like new meds and tweaks in meds and more calmness is bringing more calmness. He’s not functioning like a typical 11 year old (obviously) but he is functioning better.

There is a calm in the storm and I am grateful for it but I am not stupid enough to believe that this is our normal and it may never be, but I will take it for our normal today.

Throughout the last two years as we’ve dealt with Gage’s mental health and the  4 years before that we dealt with his behavior, impulsivity and defiance we’ve come across a lot of terms to describe him.

A lot.

Probably 20 “labels” that speak to Gage and what he is like.

Actually more.

Since he was hospitalized for his mental break, episode, traumatic event, (whatever you would like to label it) we’ve been given a few more labels to toss into the mixing bowl (of crazy pie). I’m not comfortable stating what all of the diagnoses are right now because it’s too early into this next phase. And, since the 4+ mental health professionals don’t even all agree on a single diagnosis for Gage regarding his mental and emotional health why should we speculate?

We are doing the best we can for Gage. We’ve supported him through bad times, we’ve encouraged him with behavior modification, we’ve punished him, we’ve praised him, we’ve loved him, we’ve found professionals we thought/think can help him, we’ve changed whatever we need to when we needed to and we’ve loved him through it all.

When something isn’t working we change part of the equation and we try again. We’ve come down a very long path to his hospitalization. We didn’t just wake up one day and decide to commit him. We’ve talked about hospitalization more than once. One day in October I drove there for an evaluation with him but it didn’t feel right that day. The other times we’ve discussed it with one of his doctors, they didn’t recommend it.

I hate we had a reason to hospitalize him, but I’m so glad we did. He was safe for starters. And it meant there was one more way to try to help him. And when this new tact runs it’s course, there will be another and another. What we’re doing now with medication, therapy, patience, routine, play therapy, therapy and love is helping. Is it right? It’s right for right now. Because raising someone with mental health issues, is at best, a wild dance. Kind of like a mosh pit, the way we see it.

Whatever Gage has, or is, or does makes him no less my son nor does it diminish my love for him. He’s not words on a page. He isn’t a bullet list of bad behaviors that equal one thing. He’s not a description of a new diagnostic criteria, either.

What he is is strong beyond my comprehension. He’s a fighter and survivor, even if it looks like he is cracking. He’s funny, smart, sad, complicated. He’s impulsive. He has little self-worth yet is proud. He’s blond and ticklish, and crazy about PB&J. He’s a dog lover, tree climber,  a long hair grower.

He’s my son. He’s not any one label. He is Gage.

Maybe you know Just Me of Master of Irony. She’s been reading me for a couple of years. As I blogged about Gage’s behavior issues she said she could identify and so we became friendly and over time, I feel, friends.

The lovely thing about the living your life on the Internets you can meet people who can offer you support and advice and Just Me has always been forthcoming about her similarities with Gage’s behavior and feelings. When he was hospitalized she really reached out to me and told me that is was scary but that Gage most likely felt safe from the out of control feelings. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to go through from our perspective but she was certain that hospitalization was a good way for us to deal with the med changes and tries.

She made me feel better.

Then the public vs. private debate started in my head and she said for sure that I should go underground regarding Gage’s mental health. She didn’t want things to be as bad for Gage as it had been for her with people knowing. But the next day she reconsidered. She said, essentially, that if she didn’t go public and tell her story that it just perpetuated the stigma. She wanted to come out as a survivor of mental health illness.

I appreciate everyone who has paved the way in changing minds, but I’m especially touched that Gage has motivated Jen (I know, she has a name!) to share her story in a more public way.

She is my hero.

Last May I was blogging for 5 years. During these years I’ve been able to laugh, cry and vent about what it’s like (for me) to raise these kids with intensely serious issues involving developmental delays, medical issues and mental/emotional problems and I’ve been able to process things so I could become a better mother and advocate.

The blog wasn’t always a place for me to process this life. Early on it served as a way to share updates with family and friends without placing the burden on me to contact them, so it was selfishly an easier way for me to live. But it became so much more to me. Sometimes it was the only place that I could come to release what living this life is like from my insides while preserving the woman I am outside. The woman outside the mother and advocate.

The blog was always a way I could record what I was feeling about the experience of whatever drama/trauma faced us as family as a result of developmental delays, failing kidneys and behavior plans. It has become so much more I’m learning. It became a record for the kids. It became a place where people could identity or learn about helping a student or a friend with sick kids, or as I learned today, because of a delurker’s comment – a way for a researcher to stay motivated. It became a place where I could find comfort in knowing I was not alone. I didn’t know that I would find people that would reach out to me in tangible ways with friendship, information, compassion and understanding.

I love blogging. I love being able to experience it and write about it to get it out of me. I love the act of hitting publish and knowing that on the other end there are witnesses to my happiness and my despair. I love getting comments and private emails to offer support and advice. I love hearing from Julian that someone mentioned to him a blog post about him. I love to give him a hard time about not reading my blog (“I live it! Why would I want to go through some of this twice?”). I don’t feel so alone about our experience because of blogging.

Gage and Quinn know I blog about our lives. Big or small events. The kids often ask if I’m going to blog something when it happens. They know that everyone can read it, including people in their school. They know what that means.

I blog. Our family is public. It’s what we do.

Living a public life is sometimes hard, obviously. I know that it pays to have a thick skin and sometimes that can be hard when you are vulnerable, which is the situation I was in during the days during and after Gage’s hospital stay for his mental state.

But that is not where I am anymore. I’m feeling strong and sure and proud that we were able to find another way to help Gage. Gage is doing better. But as is the case with any mental health issues it is a dance. A long dance, not always good, not always fast or slow, but always present. We don’t know the next move until we get there so we don’t have a leader or follower but we know we will be dancing for a long while.

I want to share this experience, too. Gage’s mental health is every bit as serious as kidney function and failure and deserves every bit of understanding and compassion as he has ever received. This blog has always been honest and I won’t change it because of a diagnosis. It’s a place to express and share the very real experience of one family’s journey.

This blog isn’t a place to lie. It’s not a place to hide or feel ashamed of a mental health condition. It isn’t a place that people should come to use negatively out in the world, even if it is just our little corner.

And it isn’t a place for me to tell part of the story either.

So much has happened today…

2 conference calls with clients

3 calls regarding client work

2 calls with doctor who treated Gage

2 calls with nurse at hospital about discharge, regarding paperwork needed to get him back in school

2 calls with school about his return and separately, updating his IEP – meeting scheduled today for that.

1 call to ped to get Quinn in this afternoon.

1 call to my BFF for Q duty.

1 call to my mom to relieve BFF while I pick up Gage.

2 calls to Julian out of town

But Gage is home and doc has released him to return to school.

1 PB&J (gober) sandwich and half a jar from a spoon.

1 happy-to-be-home boy

1 happy sister

1 happy dog

28 blog posts in my head about all of this

1 blog post about parents who are about excluding rather than including, unlike Gage’s BFF Laura’s mom, who not only allows her daughter to have a friendship with my son, but often encourages it.

More later.

I had two good visits with Gage; one yesterday and one today. This is what we know:

- He was interactive with me. Both days we did nothing that we wouldn’t do with him living on the outside; we read a book, did a small puzzle, played a card game, played with a magnet board and read a couple of cards and notes together.

- He is on “One-to-One” orders right now and has been since he arrived on Wednesday. He said he can’t leave the unit or go to the gym or outside because of the order. The order includes 24 hours a day. So someone watches him sleep, too. He found it hard to sleep while someone was staring at him. The weekend person said she is going to give the doctor a good report for the weekend. He’s been compliant, participating and calm.

- Gage looked shaky yesterday but today I didn’t notice any of it. He also SAT with me FOR A WHOLE HOUR, which might not mean much to you folks with kids not living in a mental hospital, but for me? Pretty shocking. I know we were playing , but usually he’d rather take apart a chair than interact for an hour doing anything.

- I am so relieved that he is safe. Those first two days were rough for him, but on the outside? Unbearable. Parents shouldn’t have to hold their child and keep them in a “safe room” and watch them for 24+ hours. I mean we would have but I’m glad I don’t have the memory of it, even if I know it occurred. I’m so thankful there was a place for him. I understand it is the only place in Atlanta.

- I am not sure what Gage remembers from the episode. So far I know he remembers the safe room. Not sure he has a concrete memory of the spiraling out of control, and I hope he doesn’t.

- I get to see him tomorrow for an hour as well so I asked him if he wanted me to bring anything special. He mentioned a specific coloring book of his. He also enjoyed the notes and pictures I brought. His BFF, Laura sent a note and picture and as I left he and his STALKER were going to hang it up in his room.

- Things are very calm in the house without him here. I hope when he comes back some of that calmness remains. We’ve been in the war so long, I forgot what calmness felt like. I so badly want this to be a new beginning for him; a stepping stone to a better life for himself. And one that involves a better life for the other three in the family.

We will know more tomorrow when his doc is back on duty. We might get an idea of when he will be coming home. In the meantime I need to have an IEP meeting with the school so we can talk about reentry. The social worker told me Friday that the average stay is 5-7 days for stabilization. Wednesday will be one week.

If we are going to focus on anything it would be that Gage is out of crisis.

Friday I was able to see Gage. The hospital called me to come in to see a social worker along with Gage late in the day. I met with the social worker first because I needed to address some items that were bugging us about the first day and a half stay for Gage.

1. When we called Thursday night to check on Gage and confirm they gave him his transplant meds no one could really tell us what time they were given. We spoke to 5 people trying to get an answer. There is a difference between the time a med is ORDERED vs. the time a med is GIVEN. And no one could answer that question. Not comforting. Yesterday, I met one of the few people that dispense meds at 9 and 9 and she knew the meds, doses and importance.

2. A month ago I started notebooks that each morning I write a message in to each of the kids. I started it for Gage so I can give him a message about the things I love about him. So each night I write a note and each morning he says, “I saw your note.” And that’s it. One night I forgot to write it and he really did miss it. The second I walked downstairs he said, “Mommy, you didn’t write in my book!” So I know the notes each morning meant a lot to him. So when Gage was checked in we had a quick meeting with the head nurse and he gave us all the details about contact, visiting, phone and fax. I asked him specifically if I could fax Gage notes each morning and he said yes. But I sent two and he didn’t get them when I checked today. Annoying. I know it seems like a little thing, but I want Gage to know that the notes are important to me and it’s important he know that each morning I am still thinking about him even though he is out of sight. I want him to know I am thinking about him.

3. It was annoying that the social worker hadn’t read the file or met Gage. She hadn’t even talked live to anyone before hand to get any back history. I don’t know about you but I’m guessing if you are going to talk to a patient and their parent about how he came to be there and how it is that he can get home, then you had better read the file. But that’s just me.

When I saw Gage in the hallway it wasn’t very dramatic. I immediately put my arm around him, kissed his forehead, noticed two bruises (guessing they got there during the hours of raging) and told him how happy I was to see him. He looked zoned out a bit, but he was up 31 hours straight the day before and so he’d taken an hour nap before I got there.  Or it’s the med and his body’s adjustment. When I was leaving he got upset (presumably because he wasn’t coming with me) and went to his bedroom, where he was crying under his weighted blanket.

He didn’t really participate in the social worker meeting (and I didn’t think he would, so my expectations were low) but we both did tell him that our goal was for him to come home and that in order to do that he needed to participate and learn some coping skills to help him deal with his anger. I told him that I bet he could learn a lot there if he tried and I encouraged him to do so. I told him that I loved him and that I wanted him home.

He said he hated it there. Yeah, figured that sweetie. But then I realize too, that maybe home won’t look so horrible. We have to be better than a mental hospital, right? Yeah, that’s what we think, too.

I held it completely together while I was with him but when I was leaving I was crying. Such is the life of leaving your child behind to deal with their problems in a setting you hope will help. Still though, with the leaving. Suckage.

We can call him and talk to him each night between 8-8:30. Since I saw him I wanted Julian to talk to him so he called and Gage answered yes, no, then said, “I have another call, I have to go. Bye.” Julian called me and asked him if I was calling him. No. I guess they only have 2 phones that work (whatever) but 40 kids, who all probably get calls. Julian called back and the nurse explained that she told Gage that other people needed to make calls. She did tell Julian that Gage had a great evening, was compliant and even participated in group. Stunned.

In a little while I get to go see him. I have a couple of card games to bring, this morning’s note and my love. That is all because they will not let me bring anything else. Nothing that could be a weapon or something that a kid could harm themselves with and so, nothing else.

I am so thankful that Quinn got to spend the night at a friend’s house, so she could just be normal in the midst of all of this with Gage. She watched movies, played and this morning I understand she had pancakes and bacon. My lovely friend Sue is keeping her until after I see Gage today and then we are headed to see one of Quinn’s favorite people; our goddaughter Tess.

I am largely numb today, feeling like our family life is out of control yet I’m keeping it all in check because that’s what moms do. I had the privilege of going through stacks of medical bills/statements and the total owed is nearing $70,000. I know Medicare will pick up most of it, it’s that other $10-$15k I’m worried about but also know it will work out, as we always have to believe.

I’m at work catching up and distracting myself until it is time to go see my boy. The boy with so many challenges that I see it makes me wonder how he is viewing himself and the situation. It is a sad, scary time for all of us as we contemplate the immediate future and the distant one, too.

But that is not new to us. I just always thought it would be his physical health in question. I never imagined that his mental health would be in question. This is exactly what I was talking about when I said it is never-ending. It honestly never ends. But deep down we have to believe it can only get better. Right? Right.

In list form because then I don’t really have to be coherent. I know you understand.

- When I woke up I realized Gage wasn’t in the house and I started to cry then Quinn said, “Mommy!” and I said, “Good morning Quinn!” all excited because she had a performance at school this morning and she deserves for me to be happy about her waking up to perform. Which was extremely adorable, by the way.

- Many people in our Village are offering their love, support and prayers. Along with food and help and wow, again, after having just called on all of that for Quinn’s transplant you still want to help and I’m overwhelmed with love and warmth. Your love surrounds us like a blanket.

- Already working on next steps for Gage’s IEP stuff. One thing I know, until we have a meeting about the recent incidents and without the team having more information (which I am not willing to share here yet)  it is way too early to speculate on where Gage will go to school when we returns. I believe that with proper meds, an adjusted IEP, therapy support increased and more understanding about what is truly going on with Gage, that our school can serve him. But there will obviously be changes to his IEP. But speculation? Not good.

- What do we need? Prayers, love, support, understanding.

- Quinn hurt her foot last night and I thought it was broken, then I thought it wasn’t. Then I was going to take her to the hospital but she had a performance this morning at school and so we said, if you can go to school, great. If it’s too hard to walk, we will take you to for an xray.  She can walk on it, it just “hurts real bad.” But still.

- I have a meeting with the social worker and Gage tomorrow at 2:30. Apparently it was a rough night for him. A safe room, with one-on-one care, which he desperately needed. Today was better, even without sedation, but still bouts of anger/lashing out. However a new med is being started this afternoon, so I’m anxious to hear if that helps him in the short term.

- Julian and I are doing okay. I am joking when he’s upset, he’s joking when I’m upset and so it balances out. We did have one fight about a fax of all things. It lasted about 20 seconds when HE REALIZED I WAS RIGHT. Yeah, he’s great like that.

- I am without a doubt running on pure reserves. Reserves I guess that I’ve stored up since Quinn’s kidney transplant 3 1/2 months ago. Is that enough time to store reserves? Hell no. Which means I’m in negative reserves.

- I spoke with Dawn earlier and it was good because I can make really inappropriate jokes about my son and she can handle it. Not so with Grandma, I’m sure.

- Wow am I glad for my work. Honestly. I’m not just saying that because some clients read my blog either. It makes my life seem normal when I can do my normal things.

- We’ve cried a lot in the last 24 hours. A lot. Some from sadness, some from relief, some for each other, some for our family, but all for Gage. Wanting so deserpately to help him have some peace and happiness. Like the kind of happiness from cereal boxes which sadly always eludes him, no matter how much we try. Sure, he can be happy about a thing or an activity. But true blue happiness? Not seen that for a while. Too long if you ask me. But I’m just his mom.

- The good thing about him being in treatment is that the doc gets to see the worst. One thing his other med doc didn’t. She is very conservative and didn’t always want to act on what we told her about Gage. But this doc? He’s treated kids like Gage and that gives me great comfort.

- Must go, because really, I’m taking my girl to the hospital for an x-ray. BECAUSE MY LIFE IS CRAZY.

All typos and crappy writing must be forgiven today.