In a prior posting I told you about being denied orthopedic shoes and it was suggested that I purchase sneakers or tennis shoes, so I wrote a letter requesting a Standard Appeal, which is 30 days. I sent the letter on 9/15/09, they wrote me a letter on 9/22/09 stating they will review my appeal and on 9/24/09 they sent me a letter stating they had reviewed my extensive and eloquent letter and that I was approved for the financial assistance to obtain therapeutic shoes. I am putting the letter in my blog in the hope that others will be able to use my format to receive Durable Medical Equipment. Please borrow ideas from this letter as needed.
"Topics in this standard appeal letter:
1) Medical history in lay language
2) Current medical history
3) Why I need to wear therapeutic shoes
Dear Durable Medical Committee Members:
My medical history in lay language: I have poor circulation in my lower limbs: my legs and feet. I have deformities of both my left and right feet and have had feet deformities since birth. I was born in 1950 with Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita. At birth my legs were cross legged like an Indian sits and folded over my stomach, my feet were by my ears. I entered A.I. duPont Institute, Wilmington, Delaware at age 6 weeks (10/2/50) for my first stay at "the hospital," the last date I was at A.I. was on 4/7/64, four months before my 14th birthday. (Please see enclosed list of operations from A.I. Institute dated 1/24/75.)
When I began attending John G. Leach School for Crippled Children in 1954 my parents requested special permission for me to wear long pants under my dress because my legs were always cold. I continue to have poor circulation in my legs and feet at age 59. I prefer to wear pants for warmth; at night I use an electric blanket, even in the summer, because my cold legs and feet ache at night and make it difficult to sleep. I take a three-hour nap during the afternoon to make up for not sleeping well at night.
My feet are deformed in the bones and joints and also visually deformed from both my birth defect and from the process of living. I have both arthritis and osteoporosis in my feet from the operations and from wearing out my feet over the years.
I have Arthrogryposis in every bone and joint from my hips to my toes. I was born with rocking horse clubfeet on feet that also have Arthrogryposis in every bone and joint. I have big scars on my hips, holes in my knees where I had pins inserted, and scars on the back of my ankles and on the top of my feet from operations. The last of many operations on my feet knees and hips occurred when I was 13 years old; please see operation list. From 1950 to 1964 patients did not enter this hospital during the medical procedure and then go home; sometimes we were in the hospital for one year or longer. Most of my childhood was spent dealing with operations, recovery from the operations, and re-socializing to the world outside the hospital.
I learned to walk on wooden underarm crutches at age three (Please see attached picture of me at age fur on crutches with braces on my feet.) Currently I have walked with crutches for 56 years. I purchased my current pair of crutches from Award Prosthetics in Burnaby, Canada while I was working, more than four years ago. They have anatomic hand grips, one for the right and one for the left hand, and tornado crutch tips that absorb the shock of each step. (Please see two pictures of me standing as an adult on purple crutches; in one picture I have my third service dog, Aven from Canine Companions for Independence, with me.)
For the last six years, since I fell and ripped my rotator cuff and had both wrists repaired for carpal tunnel syndrome, I have used a manual wheelchair in my house and on longer outside ventures.
Current medical history: I have never been able to tie shoes because I do not have hip sockets (instead I have a small bit of bone and some grizzle holding my leg bones to my hip, but I have no ball and socket); therefore I cannot bend very well. I also cannot sit up from lying on my back unless I hold onto something in order to roll over. Because I cannot bend over I have had three service dogs from CCI in Santa, Rosa since 1983. On thing my service dog does is pick up things I drop including my keys, a crutch, her leash, dishtowels, and other items.
Both my feet have been fused in a 90-degree position since I was 13 years old. If there is flexion in my feet it is because the operations I had when I was 13 have begun to wear out, not because I can naturally move my feet. I also cannot wiggle my toes. My body leans forward at my hips, I cannot straighten up, which means I need shoes that are flat for my safety, so I do not fall over on my face. My knees are also bent. This is part of the reason I am 4'6" tall, along with the fact that bones from from the joints, and all my hip, knee, and feet joints are deformed.
After my last feet operations, when I was 13, I was able to wear Stride Right sneakers, and some more attractive shoes, for many years. In 2000 I became aware of pain in my feet while walking and I saw Dr. Brent Wendel at the Puget Sound Foot and Ankle Center in Seattle. He prescribed AFO's and therapeutic shoes. I found that the rocker bottoms he prescribed were to dangerous with my swing through gate (I kept falling down after getting rocker shoes), but therapeutic shoes with flat bottoms worked with the AFO's. I have never needed to purchase new AFO's. (Please see the medical records sent from Dr. Wendel.)
I have been wearing the same black Crary Custom Shoes in Oregon (seen in pictures of me as an adult) for two years; they are beginning to wear out. When I purchased my current shoes I received assistance from Kaiser through Employment Medical Insurance and I paid the co-pay. The reasons why I need to wear therapeutic shoes, when there are so many attractive alternatives in tennis and sneakers are many:
-My braces are large because my feet are deformed so I need a wider size shoe; my current shoes, which I purchased from Crary two years ago are Performance Walkers with Velcro; they are size 7-2 wide.
-I need Velcro straps because I cannot bend over to tie shoes.
-More Velcro must be added to new shoes to make the straps long enough to reach over the AFO's and fasten to the shoe.
-I need the stability of the therapeutic shoe.
-I need shoes that are all ready flat footed, or I would need to go to a specialty prosthetic shoe shop that can grind down the heel. *(However, the specialty prosthetic shoe shops will not add longer straps or grind down heels unless the shoes are purchased from their shops.)
*(In the past I was pressured into and convinced to purchase shoes form Hanger Shoes in Longview, WA and from When The Shoe Fits in Vancouver, WA. I was unable to wear the shoes I purchased from these two shops because the heels were too high.)
I am requesting financial assistance from Durable Medical Equipment Benefits to purchase new therapeutic shoes because the therapeutic shoes I purchased from Crary are now two years old, and because I am now living on Social Security Disability Income (SSDI).
1) My request for therapeutic shoes is not just about my feet, it is a whole body medical issue.
2) I am unable to tie shoes, so my shoes must have Velcro straps that reach across my AFO's.
3) I have tried tennis shoes and sneakers, including New Balance Shoes, in the past with the AFO's, and they have always had a higher heel (I am severely flat-footed) that thrusts me forward, and if they they have Velcro straps they needed to be lengthened to fit over the AFO's.
4) Stride Right, flat sneakers, are too small for the AFO's.
5) I am severely flat-footed and I need flat-soled shoes.
6) The therapeutic shoes provide more structure and support than softer non-therapeutic shoes would provide.
7) Like every other American woman, I wish I could wear attractive, fancy, different colored and fun shoes but I cannot.
8) I cannot afford to pay for the same safe and supportive therapeutic shoes that were previously paid for by Kaiser Medical Insurance when I was working.
9) If I could work I would be working.
I am hoping that after reading this request you will decide that I meet the requirements for the Durable Medical Equipment of Therapeutic Shoes. Before you make a decision to deny my request for Therapeutic Shoes as Durable Medical Equipment I would
1) appreciate the opportunity to come to your meeting have you inspect my feet in person for deformity and poor circulation;
2) If you do not want to personally inspect my feet for deformity and poor circulation, I would like to be referred to a Medical Podiatrist, recommended by the Durable Medical Committee for a second opinion.
Thank you for your attention to the Durable Medical Equipment Benefit of Therapeutic Shoes for my safety and stability.
(No attachments are included in this blog.) I hope this letter is helpful to someone or many. Put in all the facts, use words like safety and stability, make note of what you would do if you were able, like buying pretty shoes, and send me an e-mail if you need more assistance. Blessings, Iris
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Trying to put together my childhood...
So my third admission to the hospital was from March 9, 1953 through July 19, 1953. The paper I have reports that the treatment I underwent was casts, bracing, and physical therapy. I went home walking on wooden underarm crutches, my parents told me I learned to walk at age three. I have a very cute picture of myself at age four on crutches. (When I buy a new computer, I'll post this picture and a few others.) The physical therapy was very painful because the physical therapist for orthopedic problems studied a form of therapy "invented" by a woman named Sr. Kenny; she believed that one should really push and pull on bones and muscles in order to make them work. I remember, from a later date, how painful physical therapy was; i.e., I remember yelling in pain and being told by the therapist that the therapy was going to help me.
I went home for nine months, from July 20, 1953 through April 11, 1954. I celebrated my third birthday with my parents and my brother. My mother told me that when I came home at age 3 I was not toilet trained, and when she changed my diaper I laughed at her gagging. My parents thought that children were born with lots of wisdom and adult knowledge. I probably thought my mother was playing with me while she was making gagging faces. This was one of those childhood stories I heard about as I was growing up. Needless to say it was a story that made me feel uncomfortable.
I was also born with a lazy eye and because I was severely cross eyed in my right eye after I was able to walk, and run, I would run into the corner of doorways when I was propelling myself quickly. I remember being at our house in Roseville Park. My Gramps was in the dinning room and I thought I was running toward him, but I ran into the doorway, gave myself a terrible bloody head. I can still feel the scar at age 59. When I went back to the hospital for my fourth admission one of the things they did was operate on my right eye (an operative revision of the right eye muscles) so I wouldn't be cross eyed. I re-entered the hospital on April 12, 1954 and went home on June 26, 1954. The other operation I had at that time was a rotational osteotomy of my right tibia. I went home on June 27, 1954 and was home until my fifth admission on May 14, 1956. I turned four at home and began attending kindergarten at the John G. Leach School for Crippled Children. My parents had moved to Wilmington, Delaware so I would be closer to the school. I remember my father putting me on the bus and I think of that as my first day at school, but it may just be a loving memory of my dad putting me on the bus. I'll write more about John G. Leach School in my next episode. Blessings, Iris
I went home for nine months, from July 20, 1953 through April 11, 1954. I celebrated my third birthday with my parents and my brother. My mother told me that when I came home at age 3 I was not toilet trained, and when she changed my diaper I laughed at her gagging. My parents thought that children were born with lots of wisdom and adult knowledge. I probably thought my mother was playing with me while she was making gagging faces. This was one of those childhood stories I heard about as I was growing up. Needless to say it was a story that made me feel uncomfortable.
I was also born with a lazy eye and because I was severely cross eyed in my right eye after I was able to walk, and run, I would run into the corner of doorways when I was propelling myself quickly. I remember being at our house in Roseville Park. My Gramps was in the dinning room and I thought I was running toward him, but I ran into the doorway, gave myself a terrible bloody head. I can still feel the scar at age 59. When I went back to the hospital for my fourth admission one of the things they did was operate on my right eye (an operative revision of the right eye muscles) so I wouldn't be cross eyed. I re-entered the hospital on April 12, 1954 and went home on June 26, 1954. The other operation I had at that time was a rotational osteotomy of my right tibia. I went home on June 27, 1954 and was home until my fifth admission on May 14, 1956. I turned four at home and began attending kindergarten at the John G. Leach School for Crippled Children. My parents had moved to Wilmington, Delaware so I would be closer to the school. I remember my father putting me on the bus and I think of that as my first day at school, but it may just be a loving memory of my dad putting me on the bus. I'll write more about John G. Leach School in my next episode. Blessings, Iris
Trusting our intuitions about people
After I wrote the bit about Annie Le's murderer not having object constancy I saw another new blurb where a woman student had studied with him and at some point he tried to get rough with her in a sexual manner. She "wrote it off" to his drinking too much and she said that he seemed to forget about the incident. But she did not forget about the incident, it sat inside her because she may have tried not to be aware of her true feelings: that there was something wrong and in fact scary about that man. There are a lot of sociopaths and psychopaths who are living lives as normal people and we live in a society that doesn't want to believe that there are bad people in the world. Better to be safe than sorry. If you feel uncomfortable around someone move away from them, let them go, we don't have to be friends with everyone. We are so good at stuffing how we feel because we have been taught that people are basically good. As much as possible, trust your intuition. Sometimes intuition speaks to us in anxiety about being with a person, sometimes it's a little voice in our head telling us to get away, or unsafe. Maybe you have your own way to feel intuitions, whatever it is listen to it even if you are getting peer pressure from other people or your inner judge. Trust yourself and trust your inner voices because they want to keep you safe. And it doesn't matter if the individual is a man or a woman, there are also crazy women out and about in the world, especially if you feel like you are walking on egg shells, you shouldn't have to walk on egg shells if the person is someone you trust and is really your friend. Take care of yourself, you are important. Blessings, Iris
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Object Constancy and continuation of my childhood
When I first saw the picture of Annie Le's murderer being arrested I had a intuitive hit which said: "That man has no object constancy." Object constancy is something that most children learn at an early age; it is when mommy leaves she will return or when you put a toy under a blanket the toy still exist. Prior to object constancy when mommy leaves the room she no longer exists, and when you cannot see a toy it is gone forever. (This is probably simplified.) He was able to go play soft ball after he killed Annie because the object of his rage no longer existed, he couldn't see her because he had put her behind a wall and she was gone. Probably all the attachments he has are based on the attachment of other people to him, I mean if they move away or stop talking to him it won't matter to him. They will just be gone and he may never think about them again.
I don't think I had object constancy until I was 12 years old, maybe I had some because my parents regularly came to visit me once a month on visiting Sunday. But my object constancy wasn't very strong, it was a string that should have been a piece of cloth. I believe I had very poor object constancy because I lived in a society (the hospital) where people came into my life and left my life, and I never saw them again. Going home was a constant, but there were long stretches of time in between, going to the hospital was more of a constant because my body was in question there (what will happen next), but mostly there were not many things in my life that were constant. While I was in the hospital at age 12 I threw something under my bed and I thought it was gone, invisible, because I could not see it. After a while a nurse came in and asked me if I had thrown it under the bed, since I was a child I denied it and lied, but I never forgot afterward that just because I can't see someone or something doesn't make it invisible or disappeared.
Some other things about the hospital.
-Mail was censured, a nurse read the letters I sent out and blacked out things they didn't want me to say, letters coming from my parents were opened and read before I received them, if the nurse didn't like what my parents said they would black out those words before I received the letter.
-There was one television in the ward and we were allowed to watch it for 1/2 hour at night, but I do not remember watching television very often.
-There were five or six small side rooms, but most children were in the ward which held about 12 to 15 beds.
-African American (colored) children were segregated from the white children and were not allowed in the ward. (I remember telling Tiio Miller, who had the same disability I have, that she was not allowed in the ward when I was seven years old.)
-I do not remember there being school until I was 12 years old and the school was in a space in a marble hallway taught by Miss Bell.
-I don't remember there being recreational activities until I was older, and I don't really remember them. I do remember coming up from the basement with an activity person, there were five or six of us on the elevator, some in wheelchairs and some in beds, and the elevator door opened onto a brick wall. I was screaming as were the other children, I don't think we were stuck for very long.
-I don't remember there ever being a social worker.
- A Presbyterian minister came once a month and did a service in the auditorium.
-There were no telephones by our beds and we were not allowed to call our parents. I remember once asking to call my parents, I must have been 13 and the nurse dissuaded me from making the call.
-The wheelchairs were the old fashioned wooden wheelchairs, some were like wooden-carts for children in body casts.
There was a big stone wall around the grounds of the hospital, on top of the wall was "million dollar shards of glass that the duPont's had ordered from France when the facility was a duPont home." I remember talking with other children and wondering myself whether the wall was there to keep robbers out or whether it was supposed to keep us in. Along with that question was another question about what we had done "wrong" to be put into the hospital; this was also related to the question "What's wrong with you?" In childhood logic if there was something wrong with us then that was the reason we were in the hospital being operated on, but I never figured out what I had done wrong and I didn't understand why I didn't live with my family like other children did. (One of my fantasies was Tarzan on a condor coming to rescue me from the hospital.)
Well, enough for tonight. Take care, thanks for reading my blog. Blessings, Iris
I don't think I had object constancy until I was 12 years old, maybe I had some because my parents regularly came to visit me once a month on visiting Sunday. But my object constancy wasn't very strong, it was a string that should have been a piece of cloth. I believe I had very poor object constancy because I lived in a society (the hospital) where people came into my life and left my life, and I never saw them again. Going home was a constant, but there were long stretches of time in between, going to the hospital was more of a constant because my body was in question there (what will happen next), but mostly there were not many things in my life that were constant. While I was in the hospital at age 12 I threw something under my bed and I thought it was gone, invisible, because I could not see it. After a while a nurse came in and asked me if I had thrown it under the bed, since I was a child I denied it and lied, but I never forgot afterward that just because I can't see someone or something doesn't make it invisible or disappeared.
Some other things about the hospital.
-Mail was censured, a nurse read the letters I sent out and blacked out things they didn't want me to say, letters coming from my parents were opened and read before I received them, if the nurse didn't like what my parents said they would black out those words before I received the letter.
-There was one television in the ward and we were allowed to watch it for 1/2 hour at night, but I do not remember watching television very often.
-There were five or six small side rooms, but most children were in the ward which held about 12 to 15 beds.
-African American (colored) children were segregated from the white children and were not allowed in the ward. (I remember telling Tiio Miller, who had the same disability I have, that she was not allowed in the ward when I was seven years old.)
-I do not remember there being school until I was 12 years old and the school was in a space in a marble hallway taught by Miss Bell.
-I don't remember there being recreational activities until I was older, and I don't really remember them. I do remember coming up from the basement with an activity person, there were five or six of us on the elevator, some in wheelchairs and some in beds, and the elevator door opened onto a brick wall. I was screaming as were the other children, I don't think we were stuck for very long.
-I don't remember there ever being a social worker.
- A Presbyterian minister came once a month and did a service in the auditorium.
-There were no telephones by our beds and we were not allowed to call our parents. I remember once asking to call my parents, I must have been 13 and the nurse dissuaded me from making the call.
-The wheelchairs were the old fashioned wooden wheelchairs, some were like wooden-carts for children in body casts.
There was a big stone wall around the grounds of the hospital, on top of the wall was "million dollar shards of glass that the duPont's had ordered from France when the facility was a duPont home." I remember talking with other children and wondering myself whether the wall was there to keep robbers out or whether it was supposed to keep us in. Along with that question was another question about what we had done "wrong" to be put into the hospital; this was also related to the question "What's wrong with you?" In childhood logic if there was something wrong with us then that was the reason we were in the hospital being operated on, but I never figured out what I had done wrong and I didn't understand why I didn't live with my family like other children did. (One of my fantasies was Tarzan on a condor coming to rescue me from the hospital.)
Well, enough for tonight. Take care, thanks for reading my blog. Blessings, Iris
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
My Life as a child with a birth defect in the 1950's
My brother in this last year said I should write the story about my life as a disabled child in the hospital. I suggested that he ask me questions I could respond to; he never responded to my request. Recently I asked someone if they would help me become a better writer. She said you have to have insight about what you are saying in order for it to mean something to others. I'm not sure that is true, about the insight, sometimes it is just about what is similar, or what is different, that evokes reactions, positive or negative from others. I'm not sure about my insight or whether I can remember enough to make my life story interesting to others. Maybe as I write I will remember more things and maybe my insight will grow as I write. So here goes, I'll give it a try.
I was born on 8/20/50, on a Sunday around noon. My mother said I was a 10 month baby. I was a breach birth, my mother said I messed up her bladder. She also said that because I was born around noon she missed breakfast, she missed lunch and because it was Sunday all she got for dinner was cold cuts. I weighed a little more than five pounds. My mother's cousin, who is like a sister to her, said that I had a beautiful face with a peach complexion. My mother's sister- in-law, Aunt Mildred, told me, just this past year that when my mother brought me over I was all wrapped up in blankets with just my face showing and my mother wouldn't let Aunt Mildred remove the blankets so she could see me. Aunt Mildred said when my mother left the room Aunt Mildred took a look at me and she knew something was wrong because my feet were up by my face. Aunt Mildred said my mother told her the doctor said to take me home and I would be all right. Aunt Mildred said she told my mother there was something not right, and she should take me into the Alfred I. duPont Institute for a check up. (At the same gathering where I heard this story, I learned that Aunt Mildred's son, Jimmy, had spend some time at the Alfred I. duPont Institute also.) I don't know when my parents took me for my first appointment, but at age 6 weeks I entered the hospital for the first of a series of stays. My disability is Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita. The joints and bones from my hips to my toes are effected by my disability.
My first admission to the hospital was on October 2, 1950 through April 21, 1951, 203 days in the hospital. I had a closed reduction of congenitally dislocated hips and was casted. Back then there was a baby ward up stairs, later babies and older children were kept in the same first floor wards, a boys ward and a girls ward. The boys ward had a few more beds because there are more disabled boys than girls. In 1950 through 1964 parents were only permitted to visit once a month, in the auditorium with all the other parents for two hours. Patients were only allowed to have two visitors at a time, children were not allowed to visit, so my brother who was 1.5 years older than me was never allowed to come into the hospital to visit me. My maternal grandfather, Gramps, would watch my brother and toward the end of the visit my mother would go out and my grandfather would come in for a while. Needless to say, I do not remember much about my initial stays at the hospital.
My second admission was on August 13, 1951. I celebrated my first birthday at the hospital, my parents have never talked about this. I went home on August 18, 1952, so I was able to celebrate my second birthday at home. I was in the hospital for 368 days. During this time I believe Miss Payne a nurse connected with me. I remember her calling me Miss Ice. I just had a fleeting feeling of deep emotion as I wrote that, and my eyes welled with tears. I had a picture of Miss Payne holding me on her hip in my wallet while I was in Seminary, but someone stole my wallet and I lost the picture. A few years ago I tried to contact Miss Payne. I called the hospital; they said if I wrote a letter they would forward it to her, I never heard back from her. During this hospital stay I had a series of operations; on October 25, 1951 the doctors manipulated both my feet under anesthesia, applied casts and manipulated both my hips. On November 29, 1951 I had a posterior capsulotomy of the right ankle. On January 3, 1952 I had an Achilles tendon lengthened and posterior capsulotomy of the left ankle. On March 6, 1952 I had a arthrography of the right hip joint. On April 17, 1952 I had insertion of heavy Kirschner wires in the supracondylar region of both femurs of the hips and application of long leg casts. On March 25, 1952 I had arthrograms of the hips. I don't know when I went home, but I was in the hospital again for a third admission on March 9, 1953.
I believe that it was during this third admission that I had my first sense of something bigger than me and outside of me. I also believe that this is when I was given the concept and also chose to believe the world is a good and safe place. The baby ward was on the second floor and
there was also an upstairs porch off the baby ward. I remember being outside with leg cast on sitting in one of those three or four legged walkers with wheels on the porch. I had on a tied under the chin baby bonnet which I was told to leave on, and which I immediately took off. I think the action of making an independent (I am looking for another, stronger word, but cannot find it) choice to take off the bonnet also made me aware of the outside environment. I just remember being in the green tree tops with the sun shining and a few white clouds in the sky, there seems to be a breeze and I felt like I was in a bubble of safety and love. Maybe this is what people mean when they say the world is the baby's oyster. In my forties I found the phrase by Einstein that says: "At some point one has to decide if the universe is a safe place or not." Perhaps this happened during my fourth admission, but early on I had a sense that there was something larger that existed and would take care of me. To be continued...
Thank you for reading my blog. Your friend, Iris
I was born on 8/20/50, on a Sunday around noon. My mother said I was a 10 month baby. I was a breach birth, my mother said I messed up her bladder. She also said that because I was born around noon she missed breakfast, she missed lunch and because it was Sunday all she got for dinner was cold cuts. I weighed a little more than five pounds. My mother's cousin, who is like a sister to her, said that I had a beautiful face with a peach complexion. My mother's sister- in-law, Aunt Mildred, told me, just this past year that when my mother brought me over I was all wrapped up in blankets with just my face showing and my mother wouldn't let Aunt Mildred remove the blankets so she could see me. Aunt Mildred said when my mother left the room Aunt Mildred took a look at me and she knew something was wrong because my feet were up by my face. Aunt Mildred said my mother told her the doctor said to take me home and I would be all right. Aunt Mildred said she told my mother there was something not right, and she should take me into the Alfred I. duPont Institute for a check up. (At the same gathering where I heard this story, I learned that Aunt Mildred's son, Jimmy, had spend some time at the Alfred I. duPont Institute also.) I don't know when my parents took me for my first appointment, but at age 6 weeks I entered the hospital for the first of a series of stays. My disability is Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita. The joints and bones from my hips to my toes are effected by my disability.
My first admission to the hospital was on October 2, 1950 through April 21, 1951, 203 days in the hospital. I had a closed reduction of congenitally dislocated hips and was casted. Back then there was a baby ward up stairs, later babies and older children were kept in the same first floor wards, a boys ward and a girls ward. The boys ward had a few more beds because there are more disabled boys than girls. In 1950 through 1964 parents were only permitted to visit once a month, in the auditorium with all the other parents for two hours. Patients were only allowed to have two visitors at a time, children were not allowed to visit, so my brother who was 1.5 years older than me was never allowed to come into the hospital to visit me. My maternal grandfather, Gramps, would watch my brother and toward the end of the visit my mother would go out and my grandfather would come in for a while. Needless to say, I do not remember much about my initial stays at the hospital.
My second admission was on August 13, 1951. I celebrated my first birthday at the hospital, my parents have never talked about this. I went home on August 18, 1952, so I was able to celebrate my second birthday at home. I was in the hospital for 368 days. During this time I believe Miss Payne a nurse connected with me. I remember her calling me Miss Ice. I just had a fleeting feeling of deep emotion as I wrote that, and my eyes welled with tears. I had a picture of Miss Payne holding me on her hip in my wallet while I was in Seminary, but someone stole my wallet and I lost the picture. A few years ago I tried to contact Miss Payne. I called the hospital; they said if I wrote a letter they would forward it to her, I never heard back from her. During this hospital stay I had a series of operations; on October 25, 1951 the doctors manipulated both my feet under anesthesia, applied casts and manipulated both my hips. On November 29, 1951 I had a posterior capsulotomy of the right ankle. On January 3, 1952 I had an Achilles tendon lengthened and posterior capsulotomy of the left ankle. On March 6, 1952 I had a arthrography of the right hip joint. On April 17, 1952 I had insertion of heavy Kirschner wires in the supracondylar region of both femurs of the hips and application of long leg casts. On March 25, 1952 I had arthrograms of the hips. I don't know when I went home, but I was in the hospital again for a third admission on March 9, 1953.
I believe that it was during this third admission that I had my first sense of something bigger than me and outside of me. I also believe that this is when I was given the concept and also chose to believe the world is a good and safe place. The baby ward was on the second floor and
there was also an upstairs porch off the baby ward. I remember being outside with leg cast on sitting in one of those three or four legged walkers with wheels on the porch. I had on a tied under the chin baby bonnet which I was told to leave on, and which I immediately took off. I think the action of making an independent (I am looking for another, stronger word, but cannot find it) choice to take off the bonnet also made me aware of the outside environment. I just remember being in the green tree tops with the sun shining and a few white clouds in the sky, there seems to be a breeze and I felt like I was in a bubble of safety and love. Maybe this is what people mean when they say the world is the baby's oyster. In my forties I found the phrase by Einstein that says: "At some point one has to decide if the universe is a safe place or not." Perhaps this happened during my fourth admission, but early on I had a sense that there was something larger that existed and would take care of me. To be continued...
Thank you for reading my blog. Your friend, Iris
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Lost children/lost lives
I was thinking about my neighbors from when I lived in Suquamish, it was 1984, right after I had a break-up and I had moved into this small apartment complex on the Puget Sound. The man's name was Tony, and the boy's name was Tony. I thought that was odd, but shrugged it off. He wasn't enrolled in school. I don't know how long he had been living with Tony, but I thought he was a passive young man. I think he sometimes washed dishes at a local restaurant. I only remember having one conversation with the youth, I remember that I asked him if her were in touch with his parents. I had heard of Tony and Tony before I moved into the apartment and I was told that Tony had been a street youth in Seattle when Tony had taken him in. I was 34 years old, I think Tony was 50-60 years old and young Tony was 15. At some point Tony told me he was moving back to Oregon (?) to care for his mother. I remember asking what would happen to Tony, I had a sense that he would be left to fend for himself. I was in touch with Tony by letter a few times, I don't know what happened to young Tony. I do not remember Tony's last name or where he moved to. Young Tony would be 40 years old now.
When I went to work as a Child Welfare Social Worker in 1990 I learned that children are considered adults at age 13 in Washington State. So if I had children on my case load who ran away from home or from their foster homes the police didn't really pursue them if they were 13 years old. Even if Tony had run away and then had ended up with Tony because he could get two or three meals and had a stable roof over his head that was a terrible life. My real question about young Tony is how did he end up living with Tony and was his name really Tony? I wonder if anyone ever reported his existence to the Suquamish Police? Maybe Tony was hiding in Suquamish because it was an Indian Reservation or maybe someone finally did report the situation to the police and that is why Tony left.
Does my immaturity and lack of knowledge matter, am I guilty of supporting a child molester in his life style? I will be more guilty if I ever allow some strange situation between a child and adult to go unquestioned again. We have this belief in our country that a "man's" home is his castle; to a point that is respectable, but if we continue to feel discomfort about a situation then we need to pursue that feeling to the end and not let it linger and disappear.
We have so much information in our heads; it is difficult to remember everything we "should" be remembering and aware of. When it comes to children and strange adults and feelings of discomfort I think we need to pursue those feelings even if we seem to be or feel like we are making pests of ourselves.
I'm sorry Tony, whether you were a street kid or whether you were a stolen child you didn't deserve to have to pay with your body for your food and shelter. I hope you had the opportunity to grow up and reach age 40 and I hope that you have found a life in your adulthood that brings you comfort and safety. Blessings, Iris
When I went to work as a Child Welfare Social Worker in 1990 I learned that children are considered adults at age 13 in Washington State. So if I had children on my case load who ran away from home or from their foster homes the police didn't really pursue them if they were 13 years old. Even if Tony had run away and then had ended up with Tony because he could get two or three meals and had a stable roof over his head that was a terrible life. My real question about young Tony is how did he end up living with Tony and was his name really Tony? I wonder if anyone ever reported his existence to the Suquamish Police? Maybe Tony was hiding in Suquamish because it was an Indian Reservation or maybe someone finally did report the situation to the police and that is why Tony left.
Does my immaturity and lack of knowledge matter, am I guilty of supporting a child molester in his life style? I will be more guilty if I ever allow some strange situation between a child and adult to go unquestioned again. We have this belief in our country that a "man's" home is his castle; to a point that is respectable, but if we continue to feel discomfort about a situation then we need to pursue that feeling to the end and not let it linger and disappear.
We have so much information in our heads; it is difficult to remember everything we "should" be remembering and aware of. When it comes to children and strange adults and feelings of discomfort I think we need to pursue those feelings even if we seem to be or feel like we are making pests of ourselves.
I'm sorry Tony, whether you were a street kid or whether you were a stolen child you didn't deserve to have to pay with your body for your food and shelter. I hope you had the opportunity to grow up and reach age 40 and I hope that you have found a life in your adulthood that brings you comfort and safety. Blessings, Iris
Monday, September 14, 2009
Durable Medical Equipment Benefits and the Privacy fence
I spent most of the day responding to a letter of denial for coverage of therapeutic shoes. I suppose there are people who want to wear black therapeutic shoes with Velcro straps, but if I had a choice I would love to wear some fancy, multicolored sneakers or some high heels once in a while. Though actually, I don't really care what color my shoes are as long as they help my stability in walking and as long as they are comfortable. When I receive a response to my letter I will put more about that in the blog. Actually, if the letter does receive a favorable response I will put the letter I wrote in the blog in the hopes that perhaps the format will help someone else who is being denied "durable medical equipment." If the letter receives a negative response, well then, I will probably just say that now I need to pay for the therapeutic shoes on my own.
I decided to watch the end of the movie: "9 and 1/2 weeks," so I put it back into the DVD player and fast forwarded to almost the end. I watched it in fast motion with no sound until near the end of the movie. I was then glad to see that the beautiful woman left the controlling man at the end of the movie. Sorry, if you were excited about watching this movie and I told you the ending. I couldn't stand not knowing what happened to this woman at the end; did her friends rescue her, did he leave her, did she leave him, did he kill her, did she kill him? I did not find the movie sensuous and loving; rather I found it anxiety producing and stressful. What was he going to do next. I recommend throwing this movie on a bonfire--my opinion: controlling people do not need more training in how to control others.
While I was at The Eagle, county newspaper, today. I saw a little girl walking down Main Street by herself, and I thought about Jaycee Lee Dugard and the other stolen children. It also reminded me that 20 years ago when I lived in Suquamish, WA (near Bainbridge Island) I had a neighbor in my apartment complex who was a pedophile. He had a 15 year old boy living with him. This was 20 years ago, but in retrospect I wonder what the real story was behind that teen-ager living with an old pedophile. The boy never had very much to say. The old man said the youth was a street kid he was giving a home too. I wonder now, was I witness to a triple crime and to unaware to help that youth?
This AM I called my handy guy and told him that Diane, was grabbing and hanging onto the privacy fence while growling and shaking her head as if the fence were a rat she was catching and killing. In fact she was about to kill my new bamboo privacy fence with lots of holes and tears. I was going to ask him to put up a wooden fence over the privacy fence which is over my cyclone fence with brown slates to make for more privacy. Are you getting my gist here... Before I had an opportunity to ask him to put up a wooden fence in front of the privacy fence which is in front of the cyclone fence with brown slates, he said I will put up some chicken wire today. I said that sounds good, and I never had a chance to tell him about the wooden fence that was supposed to go in from of the privacy fence that is in front of the cyclone fence with the brown slates. I went out for a bit and when I returned the handy guy was putting the chicken wire in front of the bamboo privacy fence. The dogs, especially Diane, does not seem to like the feel of the chicken wire against her lips and muzzle. I had images of her hanging from the chicken wire by her teeth but she didn't seem very excited about biting the wire, perhaps the bamboo privacy fence will last a while after all.
I decided to watch the end of the movie: "9 and 1/2 weeks," so I put it back into the DVD player and fast forwarded to almost the end. I watched it in fast motion with no sound until near the end of the movie. I was then glad to see that the beautiful woman left the controlling man at the end of the movie. Sorry, if you were excited about watching this movie and I told you the ending. I couldn't stand not knowing what happened to this woman at the end; did her friends rescue her, did he leave her, did she leave him, did he kill her, did she kill him? I did not find the movie sensuous and loving; rather I found it anxiety producing and stressful. What was he going to do next. I recommend throwing this movie on a bonfire--my opinion: controlling people do not need more training in how to control others.
While I was at The Eagle, county newspaper, today. I saw a little girl walking down Main Street by herself, and I thought about Jaycee Lee Dugard and the other stolen children. It also reminded me that 20 years ago when I lived in Suquamish, WA (near Bainbridge Island) I had a neighbor in my apartment complex who was a pedophile. He had a 15 year old boy living with him. This was 20 years ago, but in retrospect I wonder what the real story was behind that teen-ager living with an old pedophile. The boy never had very much to say. The old man said the youth was a street kid he was giving a home too. I wonder now, was I witness to a triple crime and to unaware to help that youth?
This AM I called my handy guy and told him that Diane, was grabbing and hanging onto the privacy fence while growling and shaking her head as if the fence were a rat she was catching and killing. In fact she was about to kill my new bamboo privacy fence with lots of holes and tears. I was going to ask him to put up a wooden fence over the privacy fence which is over my cyclone fence with brown slates to make for more privacy. Are you getting my gist here... Before I had an opportunity to ask him to put up a wooden fence in front of the privacy fence which is in front of the cyclone fence with brown slates, he said I will put up some chicken wire today. I said that sounds good, and I never had a chance to tell him about the wooden fence that was supposed to go in from of the privacy fence that is in front of the cyclone fence with the brown slates. I went out for a bit and when I returned the handy guy was putting the chicken wire in front of the bamboo privacy fence. The dogs, especially Diane, does not seem to like the feel of the chicken wire against her lips and muzzle. I had images of her hanging from the chicken wire by her teeth but she didn't seem very excited about biting the wire, perhaps the bamboo privacy fence will last a while after all.
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