April 20, 2012
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Friday dawns…
The alarm buzzes, pulling me from sleep long enough for me to swat the snooze button, and drift off for 10 minutes more. At the 9 minute mark, my eyes open, focusing on the digital read-out, daring it to buzz and then sighing, I reach over and shut it off. I wake the kids, give them their medication. My oldest has a migraine. It’s bullshit, but he’s afraid of his brother being alone with me, “What if he has a seizure and you need help with him? He’s bigger than you mom.” They’re both taller than me, outweigh me, too.
I don’t feel like arguing the point. I have calls to make. I lay down to catch a few hours sleep until the offices open. My phone jars me awake. It’s H. We discuss a few things, what I need to do today. There is no “we”. I hang up when he says goodbye. Sleep.
The phone rings again. It’s the school nurse. More debriefing is necessary. I talk to her for 25 minutes, and when I hang up I begin the process of calling physicians so that we can get appointments in place. The primary doctor can see him today. The specialist can see him next week. We stop by the school to get his backpack.
The school secretary informs me primly that they have an immunization record but no record of a physical. I brought all that paperwork in when he had the appointment. Special paperwork is required when a student has epilepsy. I filled it out months ago. The school nurse comes out of the clinic to talk to me. She introduces herself, she just started there a few months ago. I ask about the nurse who had worked there before, and she stammers and looks embarrassed. I look at the secretary who shakes her head. The nurse who had worked there before was one of the people who reported me to DCF for neglect. It was unfounded. They weren’t going to tell me what happened to her. I told them that I would get a copy of the physical to them after he was seen for this year’s check up.
There is only 6 weeks left for the school year. I have no intention of bringing them a copy of his physical. I will be dropping that off at the school he will be attending in the fall. They have an immunization schedule, and obviously he couldn’t have been immunized at his pediatrician’s office without having a physical examination.
We get home and I begin the process of making calls. I talk to one of the supervisors at work, and work out the details for how I will work around my son’s appointment next week. I will have to go in early and leave late. I let H know that we will have to work with each other so that I can take our child to the specialist. He’s reasonable. He also asks for my help with some statements he’s received, bills. He’s having trouble understanding what they’re billing for, so he sent nothing. He’s not sure if it’s gone to collections. No one else can make sense of it either.
I sigh. It’s obvious that he’s shared his bills with his girlfriends and friends, and they couldn’t make heads or tails out of it either. I tell him that I’ll go over them with him, maybe he can change the oil for me. Maybe I’ll get dinner for all of us. He tells me that I should get my will done. His divorce attorney did his for free. Pity really. H is a likeable guy. He just didn’t love me anymore.
D doesn’t either, if he ever did. He replied that I was having a pity party. He knows nothing of my son. I sent him away with words. I sent him back to his fair weather friends, because it makes me unbelievably sad to have contact with him. I wasn’t kind.
I just want to be alone.
