We've come a long way

This morning, I sat down to read previous blog posts, hoping for some inspiration. For me, writing is a form of therapy that money just can't buy. When I see issues in black and white, it allows my mind to organize them, debate them, see different solutions.

As I was looking back, I reread my I would give him everything I have post. I sat at my desk and cried at the raw emotion of that day. It was such a different time for us. My poor son had little control over any aspect of his life or his behavior.

Just before I had written that post, we made a decision to change neurologists. We felt like we weren't being helped, and knew we had to do better for our son. It was the best decision we could have made.

The new doctor listened to our concerns about certain medications we had tried. She scheduled a critical test in such a fast manner I had to pinch myself to believe it was really happening. And when we got the results, which were not what we were anticipating, the response from the Dr. was swift and effective. The medication changes were implemented in a matter of days, not months. The switch was not without its trials, but everything happened in such short order, we were dealing with his changes in a few days time, not weeks or months.

And the changes in him have been nothing short of miraculous. His brain has been reintroduced to its natural curiosity; his desire to learn and inquire has been reawakened. He's asking questions like "How do you spell Coco?". And he remembers how to form the c and o without any assistance from me. He constantly has a marker in his hand, drawing and writing his name. A short 6 months ago, you would have thought he was deathly allergic to any writing utensil. He actually asked me to read through site words the other night. HE ASKED ME TO READ SIGHT WORDS. And he didn't fuss, whine or complain one time as we went through them.

As I prepare for our IEP placement meeting tomorrow morning, I must remind myself of how far we've come. Because tomorrow, I must go into a room of professional educators and listen to them tell me that he has not come far enough to be successful in the public school setting. They do not have the resources to accommodate his needs. And I will remind myself he is the perfect version of Sammy; he is performing at the exact level he is capable of at this moment. I cannot ask for anything more.

Bills, Bills, Bills

My son has considerable medical expenses. Between appointments at the neurologist, tests for his epileptic condition, appointments at the ENT, tests for his ears, appointments at the developmental pediatrician, his appointments with our general physician, the inevitable yearly emergency room visit, and his medication, we are going broke.

And we have insurance. Pretty good insurance by today's standards.

Sammy is at $5415.05 out of pocket on our last explanation of benefits. That's right, out of pocket expenses for medical care. And it's only October. It doesn't seem to matter how much we plan for it, towards the end of the year it always hurts. And that doesn't include any visits for Darrin or me.

The medical bills are always the highest, however, like all of you know, just living racks up its own set of bills. Winter is always a slower time for real estate, so we've tried to save through the summer. But as I'm writing checks today to Carle, Rush, and Christie Clinic, I find myself wondering if we have enough to make it through. And I'm nervous because as Darrin is starting a new position in two weeks; that means a whole new insurance plan, with a new deductible, and new out of pocket maximums. Ugh.

I can't imagine what people less well off than we do about medical bills. I am not starting a political debate here, but something has got to give.