God’s Guiding Hands Helping File Insurance Claims

God’s guiding hands, A coach willing to approach, God’s ecclesiastical time, The teacher wanting to reach even if needing to tackle. Some are so cynical, About how to get insurance to pay, For expenses associated with autism. Connect it to the physical and they just may! Alphabetical or numerical, There is something one can find! A doctor I know found it in the curve of the spine. Says he sees it often, it is a key! Quizzical you say. Every nickel counts. Misguided you won’t be! Cried you have, tried you have..so do so again!! Outside the norm? For Autism? Is it misguided? Don’t be a hogtied organism! God’s guiding hand, Wrote a script, For Social and spatial awareness for, Physical Therapy and Communication based on the curve of the spine. Those with Autism Can be very stoical! Medically needed and necessary? Yes, of course the treatment is. Next time just look and find a thing, God’s guiding hands. You see, God has a purpose for all. Therapy could be needed to serve God. Don’t let insurance get on your nerves, God will guide you.

Autumn Trails of Sixty-Eight

Autumn Trails of Sixty-Eight Twila had carried in the rest of her bags into the room. I just had to go and get my bike and bring it into the room. This was going to be a fun weekend. We were doing the Tour de Trails Bicycle Race. More importantly we were going to do some meandering around the town of Winnsboro, Texas. A town we had lived in as kids. We had to stay in Sulpher Springs because of costs though; we were at the Holiday Inn Express. Twila asked, “What do you want to do first?” “I am not sure. Let’s eat first and then just stroll through the town. I want to drive down Post Oak Road and see the old house. Remember all the work we put in there?” “What do you mean we? You were the baby and didn’t have to do work. Daddy’s pet.” Twila spurted with a smile. “I carried hammers and nails. I fetched water and whatever else dad wanted.” I declare. Driving to Winsboro to eat, Twila was talking but I was in my own world. Twila took the route from Sulpher Springs down Highway 137 to Highway 11. This is what I considered the main road through Winnsboro. From there the next important landmark was the Broom Factory that marked where you turned on Post Oak Street to get to our old house. Then came Farmer Brown’s Grocery Store, this was where we did our shopping when we grew up. A few blocks of in between stuff before you came to the turnoff to Frankenstein’s Castle. This was really just an old ice factory but everyone had called it that for years. Then a couple of houses down were my Grandmother’s house. In back of her house was Aunt Velma’s. The railroad ran parallel to this highway just south of the road. Twila yells, “I will set you on fire if you don’t tell me where you want to eat! Sandra Lynn Mallo Adcock are you listening to me? If you don’t give me an answer I will never support you in a disagreement with your husband again.” “Of Course I heard you. And if you stop yelling I will give you an answer. I want to eat at that Bed and Breakfast we saw. Is that okay with you? I want a steak, rice, mushrooms and gravy.” I replied in a loud tone to match hers. We went and ate there. We talked of many things from our childhood. One memory was about dressing alike. Mom would go to the penny sale. Back then you could buy a dress and get another one for a penny. Mom thought it was neat to dress us alike even with a four year age difference. “I recall an incident when you would not behave and they called me down to Mrs. Barker’s room to see if I could make you do so. You were so spoiled and mischievous. Mom got frazzled over you plenty. Dad just thought you were cute. The rest of us kids hated you because you got by with so much and ruined our stuff." “I was pretty young and four years younger than all of y’all. Mom and Dad treated me like a baby and spoiled me a little. It wasn’t my entire fault. I will admit I got by with a lot. But I still remember some parties you guys had that Dad let you have even down here in Winnsboro.” She knew very well what I was referring to. We had enough of the stroll down memory lane. If we were going to participate in the Bike Run we had better get back to the motel and get some sleep. It was an early start and we still had to drive from Sulpher Springs to Winnsboro. Twila had to drag me out of bed as usual. We finally got dressed and off with our bikes in the car. Twila drove to Winnsboro which afforded me more time to sleep. I would be ready for this Autumn Bike Ride. East Texas is pretty this time of year. The Autumn Trails yield a range of colors from orange to a rich indigo. The ride would be a nice experience in itself. The flood of memories would be welcome too. After we park, we register and move to our places in line. Bikes our lining up where Highways ll and 37, Main Street in Winnsboro, come together. Twila will be closer up to the front of the line because she is doing the 60 mile ride. She will finish first for two reasons even though I am only doing the 40 mile run. One her bike is a standard bike. She is in a little better shape. My recumbent is made for an easy slow ride. It may be slow, yet it doesn't kill my back. I notice this is the corner where the Money Scramble occurred when I was a little girl. I was in the first grade in 1968. That day after the Parade, I got to participate in this event for the first time. There is a big arena and a floor of hay. Underneath the hay is hidden real money. Children of the same age are brought in and allowed to search for money for a specified amount of time. What they find they get to keep. Our next door neighbor, Miss Helen, said, “Landsakes it’s a wonder none ya children broke a bone in that Money Scramble. They better stop that e-vent be-fores some ya really hurts yourselves.” Miss Helen was real sweet and I loved that she came to see me to these things this year. My Grandfather got to come and see me at that event too. That was like a miracle in itself because he had been in and out of the hospital fighting cancer. I know this now but as a child I only knew he went in and out of the hospital. I remember he got skinner and skinner each time he came home from the hospital. He seemed to have less energy too. But he had promised me he would come and he did. I feel bad now because I know he must have been hurting to walk downtown with us and do all the things we did that day. He died 2 weeks later. I can still hear him asking, “How much money did ya get? Was it a fair catch? Where’s my share?” Dad was there that day too. It was a nice day in sixty-eight. A parade was how it started off. Then we had hotdogs for lunch. There were more things for the bigger kids to do. So I had to stay with the grownups as usual but I didn’t care because I got to do the Money Scramble, plus two of my favorite people were here; Miss Helen and Grandpa. I was riding at a good pace and the breeze was nice. I loved riding bikes. I had seen Frankenstein’s Castle. Mom had introduced me to that term. She had told me many made up stories. Mom could entertain me with plenty of things. It did look haunted. It was a reddish brown building and it had one area that looked like a tower to a six year old. We had often walked down to there from my Aunt Velma’s. I recall that I often got sleepy after doing so. This could have been my mother’s way of getting me to take a nap. I realized I was at the second stop. I got off the bike and went for the food and drink. My legs were cramping just a bit but my mind wouldn’t stop running through the things that had happened in first grade. As a matter of fact this trail ride was the same way I had rode to go to my Grandfather’s funeral. I thought back to the last gift he gave me. He was a custodian at the high school. He had found a broken two sided mirror. One side was cracked and the other was fine but had a few black spots on it. In a way that is a symbol of life. We can either live it cracked and disjointed or whole with a few imperfect spots in it. Now I was questioning if we would end up at Piney Grove, the Church that had the cemetery where he was buried. My brain turned to Twila. What was her outlook on this time in Winnsboro? How did it differ from mine? Would she have wanted to live her longer or was she glad to have moved to Oklahoma City when we did? If, if and if oh how much can we really know? Each leg sure was talking to me. My allergies were kicking in also. These trees were pretty but they were causing havoc with my eyes, nose and mouth. My skin was also breaking out in a rash. I don’t know what from. I better take a Benadryl at the next food station. Just then I look up and sure enough I ride by the Piney Grove Baptist Church. The commentary is right behind the church. This spawns memories of the funeral. What comes to mind is mom crying the whole time. I was with my cousins and I just wanted to leave this silent, except for crying, church service. I really didn’t understand the whole thing. I just knew that Grandpa was gone and I didn’t think God was being very fair. It was the turnaround phase of the bike run. I had ten miles to go and was thinking I wasn’t going to make it. Then I thought of my dad, now dead too. This gave me the strength to go on and finish. Dad would make me push on to finish things when I was growing up. I finished for him. I thank him now for being hard on me, us kids. My Mom was a good role model but it is Dad that gave us the motive to push on when things really got hard. I look back to what Grandpa might have instilled in me and I think he showed me how to be kind most of all. He never said a bad word to anyone and shared with most any person he came in contact with. My Grandmother would get the credit for showing me resourcefulness. Grandma, what a character she was. She watched me, did ironing and laundry for people. She had an old ringer washer. But she did at least, sometimes, eight to twelve loads a day. Then she ironed and starched them. To wet a garment down, my Grandmother had a Coke bottle fitted with a cork sprinkle. Now add doing her own garden to this. Still there is more. She sometimes would hire out for picking cotton while still watching me. I was put in a truck with other kids and told not to get out of the truck. We were given plenty of games to play, all the kind that just needed imagination. Let’s get back to Grandma’s resourcefulness. One time my brother ran away from her. He ran into a sticker patch. Grandma made her switch and got him good. You would think he had learned his lesson. Not so. My two brothers, thinking they were smart, climbed a tree. Grandma didn’t even blink. She went out to her shed where she kept her bamboo fishing poles. She picked the longest one and went to the tree and started hitting them. Now after that neither brother ever ran from Grandma again. I make it back to town. I am sore. “Are you ready for the BBQ Cook-off?” Twila ask. I jump. “Yes. I guess I am. Let’s go put the bikes up. I feel good but worn out how about you?” “You bet. You are going to have to start off driving in the morning. I am sore.” Twila teases. She wouldn’t let me start out driving in the morning. She never really trusts if I am awake for the first two hours of the day. We head for the food. Twila and I discuss the run. It was nice to see the old Piney Grove Church. That Church has to be at least 150 years old. It still has the same basic lay out and furniture. We decide it is nice if some things remain the same. In the end we think it was a nice visit and run down remembrance lane but that is it. Going back is not where it’s at. We are comfortable with the now time. The past has prepared us for the now and the now takes care of us in the future. Life is what it is. A bike run rolling down a path with curves for sure but covering old scenery is dreary.

Depression or despair, where is the turning point?

Depression or despair, where is the turning point? “What a waste!” Darren, the middle age detective exclaims. “Another young woman has lost her life and I have to find out if it is murder or suicide.” “Suicide?” replies his partner Jeff. “Whatever has given you an idea like that to make you go off your rocker Darren?” Darren states “Look at how tight the plastic bands are, except the ones around the hands. As a matter of fact that is what came open and let one arm float open to the level a boat prop could cut it off I bet. Which is why we found the body at all to begin with.” Brooke Fairless lies in bed, having just woken up. She has been depressed and this time it is the worst. The sheets are evidence of that. They are gritty with dirt brought in from the dogs,not to mention the doghairs themselves. Brooke has not washed the sheets two months. That is not like Brooke. Brooke looks at the sheets and asks herself, “ How can I let it get this Bad” The really sad part is the house has gotten worse. Dr. Hilbert had adjusted her meds. Brooke was actually starting to feel better . Today she had set the alarm for ten in the morning so she would actually do some house work. Brooke looks at the phone, she has fifteen minutes so she pulls the covers back up over her head. “Red Alert” goes the cell phone. She starts to curse her choice of ringtones. She is a Syfy fan but it really can give one a headache in the morning. “Hello.” Brooke says in an half caring tone. She did not catch herself in time. She noticed it was her ex-fiance Peter Ballard. She would not have answered the phone if she had caught herself. Peter was handsome . He had just the right strawberry blonde hair to match Brooke’s. He was tall and had the muscles of a prison inmate that had nothing to do all day but workout. Peter had his own business as a plumber. Yet, when Brooke needed him most he walked away somewhat. This made it really hard in the small town of Fulwater, Texas, a town located in part of east Texas known as the Piney Woods Region. Brooke was now used goods. And, although everybody intown thought they knew why Peter broke up with Brooke they really would never know the real reason. Peter only hung around to make sure that nobody else got something he might still want to claim. “Hello. Brooke. How are you doing this morning? I was wondering if we could still have that dinner with my parents?” Peter still had not told his parents that he broke up with Brooke. He would not until he was sure that did not want Brooke. After all she did offer certain things. As a pharmacist, she would always be a respected member of the community. That was all messed up when she had the tumble on the bike. Why did she have to ride bikes? “Peter are you serious? Have you not told them that we are kind of broken up? That you still call me but you are the one that dropped me? If you haven’t told them I will go just for their sake. But you have to promise me this will be the last dinner we have with them as an engaged couple. It has been over a year since you broke up with me!” Peter answers her, “ I still love you Brooke. You never know what the future will hold. I said I needed some space. I am thankful Brooke. I promise this will be the last dinner as a fake engaged couple.” Brooke cuts the conversation short, “Goodbye Peter.” It still hurt because part of Brooke still loved hm. Then a greater part wanted to rip him into a million pieces. How could he feel like the victim? Brooke was working on herself. She had been a victim of a bicycle accident almost three years to the date in March. She was riding with a friend.. A storm grate had caught the wheel of her bike. This accident left her with two broken hips, a left broken arm , right broken foot, right broken knee, right broken shoulder and a mild traumatic brain injury. Brooke’s case was different from the start because things had been messed up from the get go. The accident report showed she was wearing a helmet but when asked by a nurse the next morning if she remembered anything Brooke answered, “Yes, I was wearing a helmet and..” The nurse told her those memories were false. The hospital also missed everything but the two broken hips and the mild traumatic brain injury. Brooke spent almost two long days being tested speech therapist about her possible return to work issue due to a brain injury. They further thought she was more messed up than she was due to medication overdoses that she was given at the time of that testing. Which Dr. Hilbert helped her fight the timing of the testing as well as its accuracy. Brooke won on getting these remarks put in the chart. The hospital was more than happy to make the deal if Brooke did not sue because of the mistreatment. Still it was hard to fight that battle and get treatment for the other injuries at the same time. Brooke was just happy that the last surgery was over. She now felt good enough to go back to work. Or at least attempt to see if she could handle it. This meant she had to go back to work in a supervised manner. This was like doing the last phase of pharmacy school all over again. Sherry Christopher, the vocational rehab counselor had not been of much help to her. That was in getting the place to do this supervised work or in finding a program to do it through. Brooke recalls asking Sherry do many things in assisting her. Sherry’s standard reply seemed to be “You can call yourself.” When Brooke asked if her Ticket to Work provided by Social Security provided for these services Sherry had a standard answer for that at first too, “Do you have the material with you are a web site that shows that? However, at the next meeting Brooke did just that. She had printed out the material from the web sites. Now Brooke was set. She should be starting this program soon. Brooke had only a few things left to do. She had to get liablility insurance and a couple of releases. One was from a Neuro-psycholsist., Vincent Black. Brooke hated testing by him and his type of providers. They always seemed to ask too many personal questions and appeared to consider themselves God’s. What right did they have to stick a number on one’s IQ. Did they consider that some people were really nervous.? Did they consider that their questions were like a personal rape? My gosh the MMPI itself is a rape. They only give you two choices to answer a question. Life is not all black and white. This plus Brooke wants to say to them that “What if my working memory is not so good. God gave us higher functioning brains. We can utilize tools such as a pencil and paper to write things down. What is wrong with that? Plus my long term memory more than makes up for that….I have almost 100% recall of things once I get them into my long term memory. Which important to the practice of pharmacy.” Brooke stops herself from whinning and gets out of bed finally. She goes to the Y for a swim and to do some walking. She knows that barring any unexpected surprises she will be back to work finally on Monday. She will have to be supervised but only for three months. She smiles to herself. This time her judge will be someone she respects and that she feels is qualified to judge her return to pharmacy work. Brooke returns home and takes care of the dogs. She does the minimal amount of house work she has to. She still is not quite out of this depression. What is the problem she asks herself? Then she tells herself to shake it off. Everything is going good. She has fought so hard to get well with the final return to pharmacy now happening. Brooke goes to bed attaining sleep in about 2 hours. Monday comes with Brooke bouncing out of bed. Brooke truly is almost happy. She lets the dogs outs, takes a shower and eats something. The drive to the free clinic is about forty-five minutes. She parks the car and goes in. Jacob Powers, the Chief Pharmacists, shows Brooke around. Everything is in alphabetical order. Even the antibiotic and dermatalogicals are in this order. The only thing that is separate is drugs that are considered “patient assistance.” That is given to the patients by drug companies. The clinic just keeps track of it to make sure the patient is compliant. Brooke remarks, “It couldn’t be much simplier than this. If I have any questions should I has you are another pharmacist? I guess I am asking if I will be under you or someone else?” “I will be introuducing you to Steven Cotch shortly. I would have done it sooner but he comes in from 10 to 6. So the answer is you will be under me for about an hour and then Steven most of the rest of the day. But, Sandra, we do not plan for you to be kept under us forever. You will be back to doing pharmacy by yourself before you leave. Which brings up something program ‘Network of Good Health Retreads’ wasn’t clear with you about. You will be here about 5 months. You will be completely supervised for three months and the last two will be like you are on your own but with our support. Does that make sense? We felt that three months was not enough for your situation. Please don’t think that I find you not cabable. We just feel that three years out of pharmacy is a long time. We want to give you the best we can of this oppourtunity. And we felt like five months would help you learn the new drugs that have come out in the last three years. How does that sound to you?” Brooke chokes back her true feelings and says, “ I understand completely.” Deep down Brooke did understand. Yet, her emotional response was that this was just one more setback. Did they find her to be stupid? In need of a longer than normal re-entrance program. She had to stop this. Her therapist told her she did this to herself. Why were these last six months so hard for her. She had overcome so much but now the mental stuff was killing her? Brooke shook it off Brooke remembered the verse Proverbs 20:10 “Divers weights, and divers measures, both of them are alike abomination to the Lord.” Brooke had taken this to mean that letting one’s self to be bogged down by the thoughts of depression and the toll that depression took on one , was an abomination to God. So Brooke tried very hard for some time to force the depression back down to its core. How could she tell someone that she did feel better in some ways but more worthless in others? All of this time she was taking from everyone, her parents were spending so much time worrying about her. All of the money on counseling she was wasting. She should be able to shake this off. Brooke had been strong and gotten to through the fight of getting better but now did not know how to face the unknown. What if no one wanted a young pharmacist that had already had a stop gag event so early in her career? One day while at the clinic a man by the name of Jeff, a physician’s asissitant, asked Brooke out. Brooke replied, “For sure if you take me to see Yogi Bear in Yellowstone it is a deal.” Jeff quickly answered, “You’ve got it Brooke. I will pick you up at five tonight. We will get a bite to eat too.” At that moment Brooke looks down. She has almost made a mistake. She knows she should be glad she caught it. But instead she is so hard on herself. How many mistakes have gotten past me? Should I really be back in pharmacy? What have I done? What am I doing? Brooke goes on the date with Jeff. She almost has a good time. She smiles that fake, “ I am having a great time on the outside but really I am depressed beyond what you can imagine on the inside smile.” Brooke goes home that night and can’t sleep. The depression had become despair. Brooke no longer sees life as worth living. Peter wants only what he can’t have. He has left her. Jeff wants the shell of what he sees. Brooke was wrong in thinking she had the fight left in her to go back to a job that required so much attention from her. But what was she if she was just going to sleep around the house anymore. Brooke could not deal with this anymore. She had a plan from earlier in her recovery. It was due mostly to pain but she summons it now. She thinks back to verse about diver’s weights. How much that will be the symbol for her life and her depression. As a pharmacist she has calculated the time she will need to work on binding the plastic ties she takes from the pharmacy. She has enough drugs that can put her under fairly easy. Brooke knows which lake she wants to rest in for the rest of her life. All she has to do is figure the half life of the drugs. Which ones will allow her to finish the work and then send her into a coma? Hopefully her life will be a message to some people. Maybe it is the brain injury that has left her in this circle of depression? Brooke doesn’t know . She just knows it seems like her best option to end her pain. Darren thinks to himself, “ I wish I had been wrong. I sure would have loved to put a person a way for this as if it were a murder instead of a wastful suicide. This girl just \ needed a little better care at first. She had to fight too much. She was worn out at the end and had no fight left. In a way the people that treated her from the start deserve some of the blame. “

Amended Rule

Amended Rule “Robot boy!” Called two boys, Josh and Rick to Charles. Charles, a boy of honest blue eyes and jet black hair, yells back, “Am not you box heads!” Just then a bathroom door opens a sliver of a crack. This happened to be a good and bad time for Sonya, Charles’s mother to see an eyeful. Sonya was an ever faithful volunteer at Mountainview Elementary; when she was not working as a “female jack of all trades” for a private eye. Sonya’s first instinct was to fling open the door and rescue her darling boy. Sonya knew, though, that Charles had to learn to handle these situations on his own. Sonya did feel that gathering information about what was going on would help her prepare Charles better. At that moment Charles says, “Don’t do that!” He is kicked by one boy and hit by the other. This area of the halls and time of day lends itself for bullying. There are few teachers in this area of the halls. It is hard to see what is going on. During this time of day the principal is in the lunch room and the extra help is on the playground or in the gym, thus leaving less help to monitor the halls. Sonya knows these boys. They are in Charles’s class. Sonya concludes these boys have been mistreated themselves. Most kids in the special education classes have been treated badly by other kids at some point in their school career. Most likely these boys want to feel some power over another child to make themselves feel better too, having previously been bullied. Sonya thinks of the Chris, her husband and Charles father, have given Charles, “Never hit anyone.” This rule will have to be rethought and ‘amended.’ Sonya makes a unilateral decision she knows will anger Chris but someone has to do something to help her son. Sonya goes back to her volunteering and things about it. She will also talk to Charles about it on the way home. During the ride home Sonya asks, “Charles, why didn’t you hit back today when the boys called you robot boy and hit and kicked you?” “Mom you told me not to hit anybody ever.” Replied Charles mater of factly. Sonya knew she faced a hard dilemma. She had to be very precise with her ‘Amended Rule.’ Kids with autism were quite concrete and literal in their thinking. Sonya also had to reach her son to stand up for himself in the right way. This brought up another approach Chris wasn’t going to like but someone has to take care of things. Sonya would sign up Charles for karate. Sonya herself had a green belt. While Sonya remembered very little of the forms except how cute the boys looked when doing them, she still knew enough to have kept a would be purse thief from success once. Karate, if one went to the right place, taught you only to fight if you had to. Also, karate had been shown to be great in helping kids like Charles to increase their motor skills, attention span, self esteem and anxiety issues. Sonya had these mentally put away for defense note when Chris would fight against this move. A more immediate and pressing thing she would have to do herself is show Charles a few techniques herself. Chris wouldn’t be doing this. “Charles when we get home put up your stuff and put some shorts one. I have a few things to show you that will help you defend yourself. Okay?” “Yes mom.” Charles answered his mother. Sonya asks, “What is the ‘Amended Rule?’” Charles states, “I may hit or kick one time in order to get away and if I am pursued I must tell a grownup But if not pursued I do not have to tell a grownup.” Charles being a small child that worries about his parents argueing asks, “Will daddy like this mommy?” “Don’t worry about that son. Just do as I tell you. Daddy wasn’t at school. I was.” Sonya tells Charles. Chris gets home after Charles is in his room almost ready for bed. This is not unusual for Chris to work late. Sonya will have to remind Chris again that he could have stayed home with Charles if he wanted to. Sonya had the same training as Chris. But they had decided together that Sonya would work part time so Charles would have a parent with him more often at school and at home. Sonya tells Chris what has happened today. Chris’s eyes are turning red and flares start pouring out of blood vessels as they are about to pop. “No Sonya you are wrong. Just what makes you think you are so right? I am going to undo this tomorrow. You are stupid. What kind of idiot tells their kid to hit another kid and then not tell and adult in this situation?” Chris yells out. Chris asks with a little lower voice, “Can you get your money back on the karate?” “No and I am not going to ask. Furthermore don’t call me any names you useless excuse for a father. Where were you when this was going on? Why haven’t you been teaching your son how to defend himself like a man should have done by now? I have to do it as always. You never to any of the hard things. You want to be a Disney dad. How do you think he feels right now or he felt today? Think of him for once and not yourself. Should he let himself be beat to a pulp? Do you want him feeling like a looser? Your walking on thin ice here mister.” Sonya bellows out in the loudest voice of all Chris’s final remark is, “Well they best call you at your work and not me if and when Charles is expelled for hitting another child. I can’t be bothered to take off for such nonsense!” Sonya, even more upset now, “That’s it in a nutshell isn’t it.” Yet, her words were cut off by Chris slamming the door to his computer room. Sonya wished she had a sanctuary to go to. Sonya set there fuming even more because she didn’t. She wondered if she should proceed in to the room. Darn right she should. “Where does Chris get off thinking he can just shut her out?” She had given up a lot for this whole family. Right now being silenced was not going to be one of them. Still trying to get Chris to understand, Sonya opens the door. “Okay we will see who is right but I need help getting him to and from karate. Karate has a lot to offer and you know it. Prove me wrong on that and I will be happy to drop it. So will you help me are not?” Chris just slams the door in her face one more time. Charles comes walking out of his room, “Is everything okay mommy?” Sonya tells him everything will be fine. Then proceeds to tell him about how two bunny parents had disputes over raising their offspring and how it all worked out. She made up quite a good story she thought. Sonya picked bunnies because Charles had a soft spot for them. Over the next two weeks things are interesting to watch. Sonya sneaks to the bathroom at the same time to watch the boys. She really wanted to have an adult watching the boys without them knowing it. Sonya feels good about the elbow moves, blocks, foot stomps and punches she showed her son. Sonya also pats herself on the back for knowing that an uncoordinated child with autism could learn just enough to make an impression on these boys without really hurting them at this point. That might change after some formal training but not yet. The boys backed off. They were supriesed and even a little upset. They weren’t betting on Charles fighting back. It wasn’t too long though until they were fast friends again. So after two weeks of the ‘Amended Rule,’ it seems that Sonya had won the question or argument between Chris and herself. Chris was feeling really bad. He definetly had his tale tucked between his legs. “I’m sorry honey! You were right Sonya. Charles needed to stand up for himself. And the karate is good for him in more ways than one. Sonya my dad was never around to show me these things. You seem to have soaked up the girl and boy stuff from your parents. Thanks for being right and sticky up for Charles against me.” He then hands Sonya a big bunch of flowers. Sonya accepts the flowers this time. She loves Chris and Charles. She knows the best thing for a child with autism is routine. Change is not something that is easy. Divorce would be devastating for Charles. Still Sonya was growing very tired of Chris and his swinging back and forth from calling her names and then coming around to her way of thinking. He was also in denial about Charles’s issues. Marriage counseling was deep in the back of her mind or dare she thing about divorce knowing what that really would mean. Oh well that was for another day as all was okay with this battle of the war being fought and over for now.

When Wasn’t There Something Wrong?

When Wasn’t There Something Wrong?

 Sonya Knew her baby Charles was different from other babies from the beginning. He was a fussy eater. He was a baby that seemed to be sensitive to noise. He strained so bad that he had bright red blood on his rectum from constipation. Sonya knew but the Dr.argued with the her. Finally, the Dr. said to give baby Charles a glycerin suppository if Sonya thought he needed one.
Sonya saw Charles pinch himself to tight that he left red marks and splotches on his skin. When Charles was 13 months old and about 8 feet across the room, his dad would move his sippy cup about ¼ of an inch. Charles would come screaming back and move it back to the exact position he had it in. Sonya thought this was cute once , down right funny the second time but on the third time as distressing as it was to Charles and heartbreaking to her, she jumped all over Chris to stop it. 
Chris was in denial from the start about there being anything wrong. Yet, Sonya knew by mother instinct something was amiss. Now Charles always had been difficult with the feeding issues from the start. He may have further changed by a hospital stay at 6 months for RSV virus. 
As Charles grew, he acted as if he could not hear half the time. At church in the rooms where most toddlers sat, Charles would lay down on the floor and appear to be in his own world. He threw tantrums in the car. Sonya finally figured out these tantrums dealt with too loud a radio. For when Charles got older and with his limited language he stated, “Music Off!!”
Sonya sought help from the state program for early intervention. Her parents said she was worrying too much. Her pediatrician her to call the Texas Yellow Rose Program and Sonya did twice. She was told it was based on income. Which is totally misinformation that Sonya knows now is incorrect.
When Charles didn’t speak as he should, Sonya’s side of the family and Chris said Charles was just a late bloomer. Sonya felt more isolated and alone than ever. She had to deal with the tantrums. One day Charles ran around the house for almost 2 hours until he found and attained his favorite cup from the dishwasher. This was not just a run of the mill tantrum. He was agitated and almost in mental horror because he could not find his favorite cup.
Charles would line up cars and almost any kind of toy in rows. He would play for hours putting the same toys in the same box and dumping them right out again. Actually the box was an old container of handy wipes. 
Charles was tested at under 3 years of age for speech disorders. He was found to be significantly delayed. Chris fought with Sonya about the money issue. Insurance would not cover it. They both decided in the end that they could not afford $250 twice a week. Sonya did what she could as far as exercises she got off the internet. Sonya desired further testing. It would cost about $800 to $1000 dollars. At the time that was a huge amount of money. It would not be covered by the insurance either. Then the follow up care would not be covered most likely Chris pointed out. Both were torn on what to do . Sonya at least wanted to see what the recommendations would be. Chris said no. Sonya had little choice. She had chosen to work part time and stay at home the rest of the time to care for Charles.
Some joy did come their way. Sonya, being a weird bird, watched cable news information about community happenings and such. She found out that it was the duty of the school districts to test all delayed and special needs children age 3 to 21. The school district was a God send. Charles started preschool age 3. Chris had no objection because the program was free. Chris did have to swallow his pride when the testing revealed that Charles was very delayed in speech and other areas. Sonya was just thrilled to know that there were other kids like Charles that were still not potty trained. Sonya was not to blame completely.
Should Sonya reveal the worst of the worst? That Charles smeared feces all over stuff and quite often. Sonya opted not to share this. Sonya still felt like she was inadequate as a mother some how. However, the preschool testing and placement had made Sonya feel less of a failure as a mother. 
Charles was still sensitive the fireworks on the 4th of July. Yet, Chris insisted during the first 5 years of life that Charles be expected to be exposed to this. In-laws were the worst! Chris’s mother said such terrible things as, “He is deaf and dumb. What else is wrong with him? Charles’s doesn’t talk much.” 
Only and upbringing such as Sonya’s that has taught her to be civil kept her from yelling, “What the hell is f***** wrong with you? And who cares if it didn’t happen on your side of the family?”
It was almost a never ending challenge for Sonya to face her own family. They just said she worried too much! “Let Charles be a kid.” Her family said way too often. 
Greg, Sonya’s dad, had Charles pegged almost better than anyone! Greg was a retired teacher and army seargent‎ He kept saying that a lot of late talkers were highly intelligent. Plus some kids just choose not to talk. Sonya had done the tests of understanding her father suggested.
Sonya told Charles, “Take your shoes to your room.” Charles did it. Was Charles just being a willful child? Sonya knew in her heart that her father was somehow right partly. Further study revealed, just as her father had said, that Einstein was a late talker. Autism seemed to fit. Sonya’s brother, and engineer as well as tiptoe walker, had been a late talker. He seemed to fit a label of “Asperger’s”

IEP’S AREN’T EVERYTHING! WHAT WOULD YOU SAY IF I COULD SHOW YOU A WAY TO ASSURE MORE CHILDREN RECEIVED SERVICES IN THE US?

IEP’S AREN’T EVERYTHING! WHAT WOULD YOU SAY IF I COULD SHOW YOU A WAY TO ASSURE MORE CHILDREN RECEIVED SERVICES IN THE US? IEP’S AREN’T EVERYTHING! WHAT WOULD YOU SAY IF I COULD SHOW YOU A WAY TO ASSURE MORE CHILDREN RECEIVED SERVICES IN THE US? Hello, This is a start of a blog, essay and letter to you. Why? The same reason you do what you do. Although I will most likely not devote my life work to this cause, it is still extremely important to me. I would change as many lives as I can so they don’t have to go the path that I did and discover most of the ways to help my son by myself. I learned of all the help out there (not all because I did do my homework….as much as I had time for) due to a wreck that left me out of the work force for three years….I am just able to look for work. Too bad it is such an economic climate. Fair is fair. I will answer a few of your questions first. Yes, I have bought a book or two. One is From Emotions to Advocacy. I don’t know the name of the other book and it is not in my possession as I loaned it out or donated. Yes, I subscribe to your newsletter and now your Facebook page. You may enjoy this. That is why I am writing this in MS10. I hit a wrong key and lost my writing on your suggestion box page. I need to get some of this down on paper anyway. Let me start with the issue of the IEP and writing it. Do you agree that there are a finite set of resources in most school districts? Why should the children whose parents can yell the loudest (often this may be the poor), or that have money to push for services get all of the $ allotted for the services? I believe those in the middle often suffer more. Because they work part time and look up information on how to help their children during the off time. Often doing learned therapies at home. Those that do not work get more help from social services. This is what I have seen in my lifetime. Or, sometimes those that are in and around the services and or “in the know” obtain them. You may want to know a little about me. I am a pharmacist with a Master of Science in Management. I taught school for 1.25 years and as the new teacher was given the most kids (children) on IEP’S. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the kids. I spent a lot of time out of school trying to help them. I realized that my toddler was suffering and a pharmacy job came open for part time (more money less time…you get it.) I had 240 kids the last year, and about 180 the year before. The IEP is important but it causes a lot of friction between teachers and parents, and teachers and administration. This document is danced around in so many ways. A thirty page IEP is often umcuseable by the person on the bottom of the totem pole, the normal classroom teacher or other that does not have the resources to do so. Teachers and counselors….are afraid to ask for services that think may cost the school district services…You know this dance. I will get back to the “think so” part later. Here is where my healthcare background helps me. I am going to make an assumption here so if I am wrong let me know. I will bow to your expertise in this area. There are many state agencies that provide workshops on how to write IEP’S. What really bothers me here is the people that are doing so have never taught a class or they have worked with students either one on one, or one on three. I will guess you have heard of management styles where job exchanges are done to help people understand each other better. There are also retreats that are mandated where sessions supposedly are not monitored and ideas can be freely exchanged. I WOULD HAVE ALL THOSE THAT TEACH THESE WORKSHOPS HAVE TO EXECUTE THESE IEP’S IN THE CLASSROOM WHERE IT IS A RATIO OF 1:25 OR 1:40 for about a week. Then perhaps there would be some real workable solutions. I will say I am sorry here. I am trying to shorten this but there is so much that can be done to really gain change. It just makes me mad. Part of my answer for you is to influence all the disability law centers to do their real jobs. They need to look at all the contracts their state department of education has with external parties. What lead me to this was so simple. I wanted an outside consult with a service called PEAK. The service is out of OU Health Science Center. The teacher thought if she asked for it the cost would be extra. Fear of job loss can be a very strong disincentive. This did not deter me. I called PEAK wanting to know the cost of the service and if they had a contract with my school district. Getting information from them was like pulling teeth. Actually, I had the right to ask for the consult as a parent without permission from the school. I called the district finance office to see if they had a contract with them already and asked if the contract was a per use cost or a capitation contract. Which I am sure you know means the school pays one price and can be used as many times at no additional cost. The teachers may need to be educated too. Well it was a capitation contract. The lady in charge did not like having questions directed to her. These contracts and consulting groups need to have their own IEP (Independent Evaluation (of) Provider). I suggested that they should have to list the districts they had contracts with on their websites. She also stated that I could not ask for a consult on my own. I had some suggestions that might help with costs….Like opening up to parents to pay the costs(what a bargain compared to private costs we could see are tax dollars at work through grants back to the states when our insurances did not over these). I thought offering the services to Homeschool Coalitions would be a good idea. Of course, just like some school administrators, she balked at the idea. Back to listing the districts she has a contract with, this is important if a parent asks and the districts says no. It would allow a parent to verify the answer. So after the big exchange of words, I called to get copies of her contract with the state department of education and some other contracts to read. I wanted to if they were meeting the contracts. Guess what? They couldn’t. It was like a thirty page IEP. And, they were not given enough money to do what was stated in the contract. Does this sound familiar? Yet, they could list the districts they had a contract with. You see a lot of issues I have with my son deal with misinformation. I called the state twice about the 0 to 3 program and was told it was based on money. This meant we made too much money. But with an income of 1.5 a pharmacist pay we could not provide all the services my son really needed. Thus we did the pick and choose method. We did OT, Speech and etc. at different times throughout his life. Yet, that is still a blessing over many where both parents work and don’t have the time to go to social services to check on services. Or, they make a couple of phone calls get the wrong information and give up on that avenue. When I picked up the contracts the receptionist said just have what you wanted stated in the contract for next year. I really did not come up with all of the ideas. Some yes. But by talking to everyone at each step of the process I gained insight. Part of this is common sense, some is my management degree where I learned about marketing and a great deal is just not looking down on people or getting excited that someone makes wads of money. That does not impress me (well yes it does when they build a business from the ground…but it is that and not the money). A big reason I am writing you is you can make a difference. You might think I am crazy. Okay if you do and do nothing then I have lost nothing. But if you say something and change occurs I have won the 50/50 coin toss. I approached the Disability Law Center. They would not listen. The mentality is write it in the IEP…write it in the IEP….I asked them what their purpose was. Wasn’t it to see that as many children in Oklahoma get services…..Also, wouldn’t reviewing the educational contracts with third parties that deliver these contracts be of a legal nature and make sense. I got nothing. When I first called I thought I would at least get a paralegal. I asked what the person’s background’s was and it was psychology. I also asked why the Disability Law Center was supporting workshops on Positive Behavioral Supports but could not do this. Deaf ears are where the question fell. I know this is long…I am sorry but I feel I have a very valid point that will help lots of children. I also said I thought it should be written in the contract that the services could request the emails of all the special ed teachers and should email them explaining the contract was a capitation contract. I have a lot of other ideas that would require agencies to use free….yes free advertisements to place workshop times and dates……there is more but if you want to hear them I will let you contact me. I know your wife has (and Pam I know this is in your email too so I will just address you here), has a background in psychology. I want to state that I am not totally against psych testing but there needs to be a government agency that regulates it. Right now it is regulated by the American Psychological Society. Let me see, a self-regulated industry? The FDA has had corruption ……do you think letting a fox guard a hen house is a good idea? By the most test meet the definition of a diagnostic tool….to be regulated by the FDA. The makers of the tests and the publishers are getting by with so much compared to drug companies…..I just don’t understand…no long term studies on the adverse effects of these tests…..no liability….Some deep pockets that lawyers are not hitting. Not traumatic or worth it….yes it was traumatic for me to be asked about a nonexistent sex life on the MMPI at the age of 18 or bathroom issues that I was taught were private things not to talked about. It was like a privacy rape. But it was required to be deemed fit to enter the practice of pharmacy at SWOSU in 1980. Many other pharmacy schools I am sure. I was acceptable….but what 40% that was usually wrong turned to alcohol ans drugs because they did follow in the family business as was expected? There are some fallacies in the testing that are not addressed and parents are never told. The MMPI is only 60% accurate. This test dashed a few dreams of people that wanted careers in teaching and pharmacy years ago. It is not used now. If you want to read more on my ideas about this my blog is: http://ollamok.blogspot.com/2011/09/psychological-testing-surely-goverment.html. It can cause trauma to an individual…think of the children that are given these tests and feel insecure after taking these tests. Or, tests that say one has low working memory….may have been that way all their life…and adapted….every heard of the pencil…..I had adapted by always writing things down…..well too much to say. Aren’t we supposed to be the smart animals for using tools? I know sarcasm now but….a point? If you have read this far I am very thankful…I could say extremely or a bigger word…..whatever you choose….I mean it. Sincerely, Sandra Adcock ollamok@aol.com cell 405-850-059 5 11717 NW 6TH STREET YUKON, OK 73099 Basically by writing things in the contracts we assure that parents which do not have time to go to workshops but do research on the net can verify information. Knowledge is power. Also, by giving the providers of these services a dose of their own medicine, maybe they will come to the table in a less condescending manner. I assure you those I spoke to when I asked questions knowing the answers did not like it. Working in an environment of fear isn’t good for anybody and the kids are the ones to suffer. Following the Golden Rule and being open to new ideas are the only things that will really change the face of education in this country. Also, decrease the debt. With early intervention the better chance all children have for a better future. I will always feel like I didn’t peruse the 0 to 3 services enough and wonder what if my son had gotten them. I do not want another mother or parents to feel like this. So the more information we can get out there by contracts…..the better future all children will have. Thanks for listening.

Old Timers

According to ‘Old Timer’s’ you are not an ‘Old Timer’ unless you are their age. That also means that you do not have bragging rights until you are that magical age. That age is when you have earned the badge of life the hard way. Now this is all relative. Those that are close to a hundred will say those that are eighty are babies. Those that are eighty will say the babies are in their fifties. I am fast approaching fifty and think all those under me are kids and babies. One thing I hear all these groups add is to be careful not to hang with old folks; those that are old in spirit. The best advice that has been given by all those older than me is to remain young in spirit. A lady I was checking out, at my job when I was sixteen, set me straight once. I told her, “Don’t you think you ought to slow down.” She had just gotten back from Europe and was going golfing. “Honey dear, if I slow down. I just might find something wrong.” replied a spry white haired lady in her late seventies dressed ready to golf. That has always made me stop and think. Now when I feel sad as I approach fifty, I think of her and Lyle. Lyle came into the pharmacy and said, “Hurry Sandy! I have to go to work. I mow yards. I work for an old man.” I had to ask how old the man was. Lyle was in his late eighties. As it turned out the old man was in his late nineties. So, according to the ‘Old timers’ we are not old unless we are their age, have lived through and shared the ‘Old timer’s’ hardships.

True Success

True Success True success can be graduating from college or learning to speak for the developmentally delayed toddler. What defines success? One dictionary stated success may mean a social level, meeting a goal or the opposite of failure. The only criterion for defining success that does not solely involve the individual is social status. Yet, obtaining social status has to be a desire of the one that seeks it. Success is planned by an individual once he/she has broken the parental bonds. Walking is something the toddler wants to do. This longing is shared by the parents but the motivation must come from within the child. Success is something that comes hard to those with developmental delays. A toddler may spend hours working with therapists and parents using flashcards to increase his/her vocabulary. However, the taste of success is just as sweet as a pro-football player making a touchdown in the Super Bowl. The difference in how society celebrates a certain kind of success doesn’t necessarily mean one is better than another. What it does mean is some success is celebrated with more grandiose dimensions

Reframing Resources

I plan to launch a home based business on 1/1/2014. A newsletter titled The Equalizer and a web site will be the primary anchors of the business. The brief statement below with the working title of my business in bold print state the core mission/vision or dreams for this venture: Reframing Resources – Dis = Abilities A transformational enterprise through informational dissemination; or (Giving) Knowledge = Empowerment Reframing Resources will eradicate the disease bureaucratitis (diseased and inflamed culture riddled by negative culture where click groups run their own agenda having lost touch with the people and mission they should be serving). My skill set will enable me to accomplish many things for the Special or Exceptional Needs Community with a focus on Transition to Adulthood (information for providers, family and the person), some Eldercare resources, and allow me to promote Health Literacy. Let the tax payer see a return for tax dollar investment. Instead of how it is being wasted in the current System: Including Health Background as a Pharmacist Business Experience from Work and Master of Science in Management Teaching High School Biology for a short time via alternative certification. Volunteer Work in Non-Profits from 1987 to Present in these areas Skyline Urban Ministries – the Food Pantry and Clearinghouse 1987-1997 and on occasion in 1998. PTA in the Putnam City School District from 1999-2010 CANADIAN COUNTY YOUTH AND FAMILY SERVICES 2009-2010 – I was working with young autistic adults. Current Volunteer Pharmacist Position Mary Mahoney Memorial Health Center, March to September 3 days/wk., was one day a week until Sept 2012. I have plans to return in Jan. or Feb. The brief statement below with the title of my business shown first in the equation, state the core mission/vision or dreams for this venture: Reframing Resources – Dis = Abilities A transformational enterprise through informational dissemination; or (Giving) Knowledge = Empowerment Reframing Resources will eradicate the disease bureaucratitis (diseased and inflamed culture riddled by negative culture where click groups run their own agenda having lost touch with the people and mission they should be serving). My skill set will enable me to accomplish many things for the Special or Exceptional Needs Community with a focus on Transition to Adulthood (information for providers, family and the person), some Eldercare resources, and allow me to promote Health Literacy. Five Years of Self Enthralled Determined and Unyielding Resource Research Including Health Background as a Pharmacist Business Experience from Work and a Master of Science in Management Teaching High School Biology for a short time via alternative certification. Volunteer Work in Non-Profits from 1987 to Present in these areas >>>>>>Skyline Urban Ministries – the Food Pantry and Clearinghouse 1987-1997 and on occasion in 1998. >>>>>>PTA in the Putnam City School District from 1999-2010 >>>>>>CANADIAN COUNTY YOUTH AND FAMILY SERVICES 2009-2010 – I was working with young autistic adults. >>>>>>Current Volunteer Pharmacist Position Mary Mahoney Memorial Health Center.

B-I-B-L-E! “YES, that’s the book for me!” ( In regards to TBI)!!!

T-B-I, “Transforming Blessing indequise.” That’s me. T-B-I, T-B-I, T-B-I, T-B-I. T-B-I, “Time Bible Investigation.” B-I-B-L-E, “YES, that’s the book for me.” T-B-I, T-B-I, T-B-I, T-B-I. T-B-I, “To be inflexible in my beliefs.That’s me!” T-B-I, T-B-I, T-B-I, T-B-I. So when they say you need C-B-T! SAY which kind? B-I-B-L-E! “YES, that’s the book for me!” T-B-I, T-B-I, T-B-I, T-B-I. T-B-I, “To be imperfect, that’s me.” T-B-I, “To be involved, to be (i)ngaged; that’s me.” B-I-B-L-E, “YES, that’s the book for me.!” C-B-T? Yes, they say. You need it.” Got it! C-B-T, “Cognitive Bible Therapy.” Yep, “You guys waited to long to get it.” What you say? “That’s not C-B-T!” You must do C_B_T; “Cognitive Behavioral Therapy!” Tis, a personality test next you will get. Seems thaz know what thaz a do’in. C-O-G-N-I-T-I-V-E! Is thaz a cognitive bunch? This and theirz a “Cognitive Behavioral Therapy,” Just and what iz cooked up to be sometimes. Personality tests says it a itty bitty thing stan’dn up b’liefs! God wrote the B-I-B-L-E. Could thiz be? Ain’t read it? History be’n a few lessons they best be gettin’ cauze need’um. Member Churchill a screamin, “Prepare for War, Preapre for War?” How many lives that might been savi’n? I’ll stick with my C-B-T! “COGNITIVE BIBLE THERAPY.” B-I-B-L-E, “YES, that’s the book for me.” You too, if’n you be a want’n the best for you and others. T-B-I, T-B-I,T-B-I, T-B-I. T-B-I, “To be me!” “Yes, just me to be!” T-B-I, “TO BE INDIVIDUAL, THAT’S ME!” SO GET THE B-I-B-L-E and join me. GET us some of the good CBT. “Cognitive Bible Therapy.” Yep, that’s for me.

Grieve the Loss of Pharmacy

They said I can do harm to somebody; So it seemsI must say “Bye,” to pharmacy. I think it is contrived! But think it best to strive to grieve my loss. Caryn is the boss, To guide me through the process. So far I am sliding, Down at a relative high cost of IQ. Was it stress? A TBI? Just being under duress? Will someone just send me an FYI? How long will it take to convalesce? How deep is this abyss? Can someone show me the press please, Before I regress again? What did sound the alarm for Jones? Was I wise to shatter my own dreams? Does it really matter? Am I madder or sadder? Do I really yearn to return? What can I learn where I can earn as much? I do endeavor to sever the ties for now. But I am not sure I can acquiesces it is forever. Am I being lukewarm, To the churning, Mass of batter, Being disarmed in my gut? Do I just flatter myself? Will I spatter on pavement? Can Caryn put me back together? Am I at an impasse causing my life to tatter? I feel I will return to pharmacy, One day when I am ready, With my head, On my shoulders and squirming no more. The main question is, What do I rearm, Myself with now or, What skill will put me back on the employment farm? Do I believe? Do I obsess? Yes, I do to both. I will receive and be blessed with success.

Do you eat too much dream food too? https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2946720596236318870#editor/target=post;postID=8272754388539025276;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=2;sr

"Woody Guthrie," By Ollamok

Woody Guthrie Woodrow Wilson “Woody” Guthrie, An Okie from Okemah, Okfuskee County, Oklahoma. Thought to be a Commie but not official joined to the party. A sing-song man of folksy boons tunes. Traveled with migrant workers, From Ok-la-hom-a to Kal-if-ron-ia. Sang traditional Blues and, Called a “Dust Bowel Troubadour.” Married a three times, he did. Fathered eight kids, he did. Arlo Guthrie sang just like he did. Chip off the old block. A neurological disease, Named Huntington’s, Struck at this man, Woody Guthrie. Bound for glory was he. Served as mentor to Jack Elliot and Bob Dylan. Oh what a man was he. Oklahoma enshrined him in the Music Hall of Fame in 1997.

Chasing Dreams by Ollamok

Sonya had come to terms with the fact that Charles had autism. Autism encompasses a number of issues. These can be very different for each child. Charles, Sonya’s son had; ocular motor dysfunction, ADHD, Auditory Processing Disorder, sensory intergration issues, developmental delays, speech issues, Communication Disorder, Social Impairment, OCD and Anxiety. Sonya was sure they must be a couple of things she was missing in all of these labels. With all of the problems of fighting insurance and the state to get help to pay for things to see that Charles got the help she needed; the hardest part of all this could be the fight for chasing dreams. That is the dreams for Charles to have a near normal or the most normal life possible with the challenges he would face each day. In some ways Sonya and Chris, her husband, were blessed and lucky. They could afford some treatments that were not paid for by insurance or help had not come through from the state yet. Also, Charles had gotten into the school system at the age of three. This meant he had gotten early interventions. Some children had not been discovered until much later when interventions were much harder to do. Sonya was an avid researcher. She pursued information as though she was a starved computer for raw data or a homeless person that had not eaten in days. The preschool that Charles attended offered a program once a month to help teach parents how to work with their children. It was recommended to Sonya that Charles needed to increase his speech. So she could make flash cards of everyday things by cutting out things from newspapers and magazines. She did this and would say the word to Charles and he would repeat it if he wanted to play with a toy or watch tv. He had to do this every night or day for about three hours. It was hard work for him. If he did not say it Sonya would repeat the word until he did. The flashcard work continued for about 18months. Then he had caught up to the point he was making one and two words sentences. Then the flashcards were used for sentence making. The school said he was still behind in his speech. Sonya already knew that from a private screening that cost an arm and a leg. Paying for extra speech therapy at that hospital was out of the question. Eventually though Sonya found a speech therapy situation that was affordable. It was suggested that Sonya take him to an eye doctor that specialized in learning disabilities. Sonya did so just do add this to her list of things that needed attention and things to research. The findings were ocular motor dysfunction. The eye doctor at the time suggested occupational therapy. Sonya explained that she had chosen speech therapy at the moment because Charles was so delayed in this area. The doctor agreed this was a prudent decision if insurance would not pay for both. He did suggest that in 18 months he would start the occupational therapy if it were his child. Further conversation revealed that this doctor had three children on the autism spectrum. He had to deal with making these types of decisions for his children too. He knew that fighting the school system was hard. He asked what Charles was getting and he said I would have a hard time fighting for more than he was getting. This eye doctor became like a case manager for Charles’s needs. The doctor further stated that he would recommend vision therapy which he did at his clinic but that would be much later when Charles was in school and his eyes had improved a lot. The speech therapist gave Charles homework to do. This was in addition to what the school therapist had Sonya already doing. The occupational therapist at school had a few things for Sonya to do with Charles. The preschool teacher had her two cents worth. Sonya took all of this in and worked with Charles as much as she could. All of this was hard work. Charles worked hard every day. These kids put in plenty of hard days just to play catch up and achieve normal or the best they can do. The parents are worn down from working with them and maybe working a full day at work also. These kids need a team of early interventions. Charles was only getting a third of what he needed. The schools do best they can but can only offer half day preschool. Sonya felt blessed that the schools offered meetings once a month to show her what she could do to improve her work with Charles. In reality there should have been more time spent on teaching her how to work with Charles than this. Still this school did more than most, she learned when she compared notes with other parents. As you see, “chasing the dream” of the best life for Charles can take a lot of time. Looking for treatments can take its toll on the parents. Researching the internet and libraries takes time away from working with the children. The children have to work hard just to say a word. Many people dismiss how hard children like Charles work. Sonya’s own mother has told her how easy she has it. “I had it four times as hard as you Sonya.” Sonya replied to this with, “You have no idea how hard it is to be play mate, mother, therapist, reading specialist, and general expert on child behavior all the time with Charles. So mom please don’t comment on how easy I have it. Also, remember how we played with one another and as we got older did a lot of the housework. We did four times the work Charles will if he can. It is hard to do housework when I have to be Charles friend because he can’t make one!” Sonya is thrilled that Charles gets so much enjoyment out of swimming. He works so hard at everything else to see his eyes light up in the water where he can be a king is heaven to Sonya. This is a reward he will work hard for. Sonya almost hates making him do so. Why oh why must she? After the speech therapy Charles did 18 months of occupational therapy. Vision therapy was next. Then it was back to a rotation bases. Throw in a couple of tutors here and there and one has an idea of just what Charles went through up and til the eighth grade. Sonya had to go back to work so this meant she had to prepare Charles for being by himself. Sonya also had to start preparing Charles for being independent. Nothing has been easy for this child and nothing will be. Chasing dreams for Charles has been Sonya’s dream as well as a nightmare.

Dream Food

Dream Food What’s a diet to do? ‘Cept make dream food! Cool you say? Zero calories? Nay I say. Worse than that. Puts desire, In the heart for a start. No end To this dream food. This is what’s called the Yo-Yo diet. Round and Round Where she stops, the scale breaks! Put the foot down, No more sleep, No more dream food!

Which Remains Flanking Death?

Living life left out or as dead doornail doomed in this world but no longer living dreaming or in danger escaped evil to God’s great haven of Heaven? Dare I ask you to compare copies coping with each agonizing alternative? Just jump right at these presumptions to tell me which you would prefer? Locked lethargy liked as a shell should not be one’s fate. Walking in the house heralding days out to the doctor or store, pain is always at hand. Brightness the newness of the house relieves some of the dreary days lost momentum. Performing tasks of cooking on the new shinny stove, or working on the floors of fine brown carpet or other totally tiled rooms, help her day pass by a little faster. Inside the wreck wrongly has stolen identity or life’s intents. Work she poured a good deal of zest into has been taken from her. Providers of the head land one confused, where if left alone, like a cat of nine lives, most would be on their feet again. But now a shell, hell not even that is in her anymore. Flying finding God’s peace should be her choice. No one knows what is next but faith found provides the answers. All else on Earth God would comfort comparatively according to the need. She that could reside in Heaven with God must be left to her ability to choose. Pouring proudly over confident words, freedom to be where one wants to be if of sound mind must abound. Humanity if it denies this has turned to insanity masked as sane.

Kauai visit.

Delicious the vacation memories supply Island of the state, Hawaii, “Blue,” Elvis. Azure is for sure. Spouting Horn, Light House, canyons, valleys, caves, plus more. Two weeks and adored. Colors galore, Roy G-BIV hasn’t explored, while painting this isle. Sunburst mornings here send warmth through body, mind and spirit. Tolerable rains. Crowed it was not. Our mouths dropped inhaling total loveliness. Peace quiet she shows us. This holiday implores to as guests DO RETURN.

Suicide Just Me!

I have every right, To take my life in the night. How else can I stop this fight? There is no end in sight else. The pollution some say, That is not a solution. Why should this not be for me? Who would say suicide is not just me? Could it be the husband? Or the son? The Sister? Or the mother, other and maybe another? What might they say on that day? Insight he or she have that would stab or jab? Is Suicide a generational thing? Set in monition by such as one commotion? Who thinks that suicide is just them? If they are by themselves without relations, Friends then Society is indecent, Seems then suicide is just them.

If this has changed your mind, Please be kind to those that hope for you. Suicide is never just you. For those that stay behind, Have that day to grind in them what you have done. You are gone, Your pain is at rest and they are for sure are not having fun either. To you it seems wiser to go, But to them it seems you are a miser. So let us remember, To think, Stop and blink, Suicide is not, Just you!

Insanity or a need to get out of my head

Sandra Adcock Insanity or a need to get out of my head I need to get out of my head.

It seems I made my own bed where the sheets do not meet. Was it because of a trauma, the drama inflicted? medical horrors, mental roars lay in store? Climb out of the hole, oh, I need a pole. I thought I caught a way out, instead I rolled in the hole again. What has caused me             this great wear and tear that I won’t bare? I stare and glare; inside my head what is this place, this space I hate? black with sadness that has no face? Oh, do desist-- I dare insist I want a halt, inside these walls the calls of my insane blank head! It appears I run down dead-end halls Simple, the jesters say, but Nay, Nay I say.  What is real, now? How I wish I could just chill. Dreamer, wake up. Dreamer, be still!   It’s like being in the Army, Marching to the beat, “Hup 2, 3…” On and On and On,   Nowhere can I seem to stop or go. What has caused so much pain as to stain my life? Whine, whine and whine! I almost want to turn to wine but, will not let that mind be mine. Where did I go? Where have I been? Where am I now? How, oh how can I get back to now? Slow down some say, Forget and rest. I try my best hoping, praying to find a nest that offers rest where I can do my best land on my feet even uphill. I can,   I will, I will stand again land on my feet. Prayer alone sustains, Faith promiseth gains if I can relinquish the dark night past I know I shall surely be replenished, Replenished and unvanquished!

“FAILURE” by OLLAMNOK

“FAILURE” “Failure,” says Mr. Webster “is an inability to reach a goal.” Associations of failure can mean a state or condition where not meeting a desire or goal. Intent infers a purpose of doing a thing or having a reason. Lazy or looser are identifiers contributing to failure. Underachievement is a social or political way to explain failure as acceptable. Responsibility occurs when a person takes ownership in failing an attempted goal. Effective does not describe a person when failure is the end. ___________ REFLECTION Explore failure. Restate the definition. Un is a word translated unresponsive. Looking or examining is to study or seek what happened to cause failure. Insisting repeats failure and repetition resonates. Accepting takes the reason or status for what is. Fake means pretending failure is success in goals or attempts.************************************ GOAL Goal shows a person something he wants or desires. Obvious is failure of the goal. Awful can be the feeling or emotion of failure. LEAVING ALONE FAILURE MIGHT BE THE BEST ADVICE TO CONTAIN THIS FINDING.^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ MIRROR IMAGE Savoring a moment, state or saving something Until realization intrudes. Coming to terms Can conclude Efficient deduction Somehow escapes Self in success.><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><<<><><><><<><><> POLARIZING LIGHT Suffice So sounding Emptiness Congeals Clamping Unified termination or tribulation. ____________________ THERAPY TO tempt Honest Emotions Reset AS Pondering Your you yesterday ********** REVERSE Yardage Affirmations Reducing Eternity to Hell Time honored life %%%%%%%%%%%%% ____________________________________ REFERENCED AS A REMINDER OF FAILURE WHERE SUCCESS SHOULD BE UNATTAINABLE WHERE THERAPY UNDERSTANDS PROCESS HAS DIRECT EFFECT IN GRASPING WHAT IS.

Overall’s; overdo, overview, overlook, overjoy or over the top?

Teenagers! I shake my head.  “Overalls are for farmers!”  My mother is happy; since my son is giving me all the paybacks I deserve.

A clear picture, a gorgeous day in Winnsboro, Texas, the month October close to time of the 1968’s Autumn Trails Event it is. 

Six years of age didn’t qualify me to get out of the funeral.  Stranger, three or five couldn’t either.  Walking next to each other passing the casket, my cousin asks, “Where is Grandpa? Isn’t in the box.  That man has a suit not overalls on.”

Wondering my cousin shouts out an honest question, “Does only his hands, head and arms go to heaven?  How will he walk in heaven?”

For some time anger was all I expressed toward my mother. She made me go to the funeral for he mother.  It is hard to wipe out that picture.  That is not my grandfather.

My grandfather’s uniform consisted of copies of gray-white striped overalls.  Friends of his, the overalls were, with wear and tear matching his birthday suit. Underneath was a blue shirt making it impossible to look improper as many me did.  

This uniform served my grandfather well.  As a janitor at the high school he worked hard on various jobs. Or, if it was cotton picking time, they served. Many a day I played in a truck bed with other children during cotton season.  Sugar cane time put all of us back in the same place but those overalls allowed my grandfather to bring home six or more stalks of fresh cane for my siblings and I to share with him.

Sunday overalls showed no age or wear. Miss. Helen, the next door neighbor, stating overalls were grandpa’s badge plus uniform.  Then I stared at her.  Get it now.  The old saying, “The suit makes the man,” is not far off.  

If I could just purge that casket image, “Grandpa you showed me a lot that day at the funeral and the treasured overall days.”  

Guess I wanted Tanner to help recapture those days over in overalls.