Sunday, 6 March 2016
Now and forever
As I sat down to write this post, Max suddenly launched himself off the coffee table, punched me in the sternum and ran off. That's my life. It changes quickly, without warning and people get hurt. Max's behaviour has regressed again over the last few weeks. The days have been long, stressful and highly unpredictable. I've recently started medication to help me manage my own anxiety.
Preparations for Max's schooling in 2017 are in full swing. We won't know if he is eligible for a Specialist School until he has completed a heap of assessments. Hopefully this will be done by July, but for the meantime, I'm stuck with the task of planning for both Mainstream and Special Schools. I'm grateful for those who forewarned me about how massive and complicated this would be.
A trial date for Max's Medical Litigation Case has been set for December of this year. This is something which has been bumbling along in the background of my life for the last 4 and a half years. I can't say much about the specifics of this, other than to say his case is strong (very strong).
As part of this, we're required to attend loads of appointments with various Independent specialists. The purpose of these appointments, is for them to assess the impact Max's stroke and make predictions about what his needs will be for the rest of his life.
Having to re-tell the story of Max's stroke, has bought up a whole lotta anger and sadness (for me). It's forced me to acknowledge the dark place our world became after that day. The dreams I had vs the way life has turned out. The never ending struggle to find silver linings and the strength to live another day.
Hearing the experts predictions about Max's future, hasn't been all that fun either. I knew they'd all be focusing on worst case scenario type stuff. Turns out the worst case scenario, is a fair bit worse than I expected.
There's no way I would be surviving this journey, if it wasn't for the support of my family. They are absolutely brilliant. Nonetheless, this journey is mine and mine alone. It's hard to describe the sense of feeling so unbelievably alone, when I'm rarely alone in the physical sense.
The optimist in me, wants to end this post on a positive note. There are loads of positives and I'm not one to wallow around in self pity. Everything will be alright and I know I'll survive, because I have no other choice. But that's all the positivity I can muster right now.
I promise I'll do better next time.
Over and out.