Confirmation X 2

It was early June and school had been out for a couple of weeks. There on the calendar was the date we'd been waiting for - counting the days until.

The psychiatrist appointment.

We'd been on the "emergency waiting list" for three months. To be called if there was any kind of opening.

The phone never rang once.

Of course.

We were so anxious to meet with the psychiatrist. We needed HELP. We were frustrated and scared and feeling alone. We knew the situation was headed in a bad direction and were frantic to take even the smallest steps to have things start to turn around.

In retrospect I can see how silly it was to pin all those hopes on a 45-minute-get-to-know-you kind of appointment.

But at least things were under way.

As we were getting ready to leave, she said she wanted to see The Monkey on her next available appointment.

Ahhhh - relief.

Her next available appointment?

THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING.

Yes, that's right. This psychiatrist's next available appointment was the day before Thanksgiving.

5 1/2 months away.

We took it. And could not have felt worse if the nice woman who handed us the appointment card had stood and punched us in the stomaches for good measure.

But we could do it. We could hang on until November. We had to.

We'd asked the case*workers if we could take The Monkey somewhere else. To another psychiatrist. To someone who could HELP him. And us. Now.

We were willing to drive to Big City 1 1/2 hours away or Bigger City 2 hours away. Every week. Twice a week.

To get The Monkey some help.

We were told no. That the local mental health facility didn't like for its' patients to do that.

I understood continuity of care but Jesus! The child needed help now. Not just in time for the holidays.

So back to waiting we went.

We were also waiting for an appointment at the huge children's mental health screening facility. Best in the state. You go in there and, by God, you come out with a diagnosis.

"It can take up to six months for an appointment" we were told in mid-June.

"Or longer."

That was fine. "Set it up. Please. Immediately."

What choice did we have?

Five weeks later, the worker came to our home to *BEGIN* the paperwork.

Five weeks.

We thought we were five weeks closer to an appointment. Hanging on as best we could.

And she was only just starting the paperwork.

We could have laid our heads on the table and cried.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

September came. The kids had been gone for a few weeks.

New foster mom called and asked who was supposed to have been setting up the screening at the BIG KIDS' CLINIC.

I told her.

And she told me that she'd called BIG KIDS' CLINIC and they had never heard of The Monkey.

Bastards.

My heart fell. Three months after the appointment should have been set up and nothing had happened. Nothing at all.

Worker swears she sent the paperwork. Ummm hmmmm.

She sent it again a couple of weeks ago.

Supposedly.

And the clock winds again.

And a child suffers just a little bit longer because someone didn't do their job.

Again.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next week we got a letter. From local Mental Health Center.

The day-before-Thanksgiving appointment? That was set up in early June? And was the first available?

Cancelled.

The doctor is going to be out of the office that day.

But we are "welcomed to call and reschedule".

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

If the kids were still with us, we were experiencing what we'd been experiencing - just trying to hang on until we could get help . . .

and BOTH of those pieces of help fell through

I don't know that I would have been able to take it. Truly.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Usually when I get confirmation that I made the right choice about something, I feel empowered or, at the very least, even more certain or peaceful.

These two things - though clearly confirmation of what we'd feared all along (that weeks and months would pass without The Monkey getting any sort of meaningful help, no matter what we did) just left me feeling sick and defeated and deflated.

And angry at a system that is so unbelievably screwed up that I'm not quite certain how it even continues to function.