Today was my scheduled infusion of rheumatoid arthritis medicine, so I was able to have a friend drive Natasha up to the hospital while I tended to this. Now this infusion usually takes 3-4 hours due to the ordering of the medicine from the pharmacy and the starting of the IV. Mainly the waiting. Today, I was ready to kick back! Would you believe that I was done in record time? The medicine got there right when I did, the IV worked right away, and in 2.5 hours I was out of there! Hmmm.
Family therapy was schedule for today at 3pm. After my infusion, I was able to come back to get the two older girls with about one hour to spare. I had told one of my daughters earlier in the week that I’d take them to a store they wanted to go to. Well, I had forgotten about all the pre-scheduled appointments and we weren’t able to fit it in. So by the time we got to family therapy, she was quite angry with me.
I was really hoping for several things during the allotted hour of therapy. One, I wanted Natasha’s sisters to understand why so much of the attention had to be on Natasha right now. I think they knew deep down, but I wanted to make sure. Another, I really wanted us to band together like Power Puff girls or some other super hero chick group. None of this took place.
During this time we learned that Natasha would be able to have Saturday and Sunday at home as a trial run! We only needed to stick to the eating schedule and menu and watch for signs of anxiety and what might cause this. Okay, now where was I going to have her sleep and eat? With another family?!
Further discussion revealed that she’d most likely be released from the program next Wednesday or Friday. Given the way the therapy session went, I was scared! Though I was obviously happy to hear this, we had also grown used to the routine and the safety of having someone else help her to take care of herself. She’s made such great progress so far and I fear losing all of that as soon as the program ended.
But aren’t we supposed to take it one day at a time? Yes. And that’s what this weekend is for. A trial run to see how everything plays out. She hasn’t been released yet, and they won’t allow that if she isn’t ready and I have to trust that.
Still, as we walk to the van she asks me, “I’m doing good, aren’t I mom?” To which I reply, “Yes. You’re doing really good!”. Her next comment made my heart sink. “Then this weekend will you tell me what I weigh?”
Bye, bye bathroom scale.