Today my Chickadee has been in residential treatment for 36 days. (Not that we’re counting.) She was in acute care for five days before that, so the total 41 days she’s been away is by far the longest we’ve ever been apart.
I keep waiting for it to get easier. Joke’s on me, because it doesn’t.
We have a treatment planning meeting today. Recent comments from her doctor are… not encouraging. I have to get over feeling sick and scared and get my game face on and keep advocating and forget that I only slept three hours last night and that I doubt my ability to keep doing this. We just keep doing what we have to do, I guess.
Oh look, it’s something shiny—I have a new post up over at Feel More Better about the dumbness that is youth, and you can look at that while I try not to barf in my shoes.