It's like a bad episode of House

Dad's Doc did not admit him to the hospital on Thursday, as planned. I called the rehab in the afternoon on Thursday to see if he was still there, and sure enough, he was. The nurse/case manager read me the doctor's orders (and made me wonder if they would have been read at all, had I not called, since she sounded surprised at some of the notes), and the plan was to hydrate him via a saline IV, and clean the surgical wound regularly with Betadine, and admit to the hospital if he doesn't improve.

Well, he didn't improve. In fact, he got way worse, real fast. The neighbors called yesterday afternoon, relaying a message from the very nice man: Dad was taken to the hospital by ambulance in the afternoon on Friday. Apparently, he was completely disoriented, and had pulled out his IV, as well as one of the pins in his ankle.* By 10 pm last night, he was stable and coherent, but had received a blood transfusion, as his actions had led to a significant amount of blood loss. It seems likely, at this point, that he will need to undergo another surgery to repair the damage and replace the pin.

* The surgery was an attempt to fuse together the foot and ankle bones, providing more support and stability. It involved metal pins that hold the bones in place while they fuse; these pins extrude through the skin, which creates a sort of exoskeleton that allows for weight-bearing recuperation.

TM and I had planned to go visit Dad tomorrow, anyway, so we will know more tomorrow. I don't really have anything wise or insightful to say about this latest development; it is what it is.

But here is something completely unrelated, just for the sake of levity and cuteness. Enjoy!


see more puppies

Not so fast ...

I suppose it was wishful thinking that I was taking a day off from Dad. Around 6 pm yesterday, Dad's surgeon called to say that progress is slower than Doc would like, and will be re-admitting Dad to the hospital today. Apparently, the infection isn't getting better, and there are some numbers, related to his kidneys, that are causing some concern. Also, Dad isn't complying with medical advice/orders. He needs to be doing physical therapy 5x per week, and is apparently refusing 3x a week. He also needs to keep the foot elevated, and Doc says that every time he goes to check on him, Dad's sitting on the side of the bed, with his feet on the floor. I can just picture it: that's how Dad's most comfortable, and he has always sat like that.

After I spoke with Doc, I called the very nice man and the neighbors about the dog. Since Dad's not going home any time soon, it seems a lot to ask of people to check on the dog multiple times a day (there's a dog door, so she can get out to do her business, but she needs food and water and people time). And since Dad doesn't work, the dog is accustomed to being with someone all day, every day. So we are all starting to feel bad for the poor little thing, and will probably need to find a foster home for her while Dad's laid up. Fortunately, the neighbor's sister has a Bichon Frise, same breed as Dad's, and is willing to take her in. (Last time Dad was in the hospital and rehab for an extended length of time, my mom was kind enough to do it.) It's so wonderful that there are good and kind people in the world.

What really sucks is the financial situation. Dad's been living on the razor's edge for quite some time now, and after the hospital stay, he'll surely return to rehab. He's got 20 days in the rehab that are covered 100% by Medicare, but after that, the coverage for the remaining 80 days is only 80%, so he'll rack up over $100 a day for as long as he stays beyond the first 20. (Universal health care now!!!) In addition, he's not in any shape to attend to his bills while he's recuperating, so he'll likely incur late fees on things like his mortgage, and I'm not entirely sure what he's been doing to make ends meet (his mortgage is more than he brings in monthly from his disability checks). He's been trying to sell the house for months, but it's a terrible market. I fear that he'll be denied Medi-Cal (the rehab helped him apply, but he has at least 1 too many vehicles), and will be forced to sell his house for less than he could, just to be able to pay his medical expenses, and then where will he live?

Ultimately, so much of this is out of my hands, but it certainly causes concern. Thank god I have a job now, just in case Dad's financial situation starts to get super intense. I'd hate to have to pitch in (I've got to save for my own retirement, plus a college fund for Kid A), but I suppose we do what we have to do, right?

Outings today

Kid A and I had a big day today. Ran some errands, attended a breastfeeding support group (where I asked some questions about pumping and returning to work), and then went back to the office where I interned last year to say "hi" to everyone. Since I was (very) visibly pregnant during my internship, people were pleased to see me and to meet Kid A. TM and I had not divulged Kid A's name prior to her birth, so it was fun to introduce her to people who had called her by various pet nicknames during my work there.

Kid A did great. She's been fussy for the last couple of days, and so it was really nice to take her out and about. She definitely had her fits, but they were mercifully short and very few. She did sleep in the car between stops, but would not stay asleep once we got home. TM came home a short time after we did, and applied the Moby and stayed with soothing her until she went to sleep. I think she's so tired, she just might stay asleep while we eat our dinner -- something that rarely happens!

No news on Dad today. I took a day off from attending to his troubles. Will keep y'all posted.

A New Wrinkle

The generation of women just slightly older than me is, I've read, sometimes called the "sandwich generation." "Sandwich" because they are torn between the needs of their children and those of their increasingly dependent parents. Although I'm not quite middle-aged yet, my father has (and has had for quite some time) the physical ailments of a much, much older man. For nearly a decade of his young adult life, my younger brother lived at home and helped out around the house, but a couple of years ago he decided it was time to live his own life and moved out (yay, little brother!). Dad did okay for a while, but within six months of living alone, he deteriorated significantly. Around that time, I encouraged him to start thinking about making some changes. At first, we discussed the idea of selling his house and moving up to where TM and I live, getting a duplex or something along those lines. After Dad decided to take out an equity line of credit on the house, we realized there wasn't enough equity left in the house for a down on something big enough for all of us. We then started discussing other options. This was a lengthy process, punctuated here and there with medical scares and stints in the hospital. I think Dad probably felt let down, after we decided that he couldn't come "live with us," and he was definitely afraid of making a major life change. The time for that was probably 10-15 years ago, when he was younger and quite a bit healthier (although none of us thinks of him as ever really being healthy). At any rate, Dad resisted much of my attempts at trying to fix things.

Fast forward to the beginning of August. Dad went in for a surgery on his ankle; he had it "fused," and, although I don't know what that actually means, he had had the other one done somewhere around 10 years ago or so. They kept him in for a few days and sent him home. There is a very nice man, about 20 years older than Dad, who lives near him and checks on him every day. The day after Dad went home from the hospital, this man checked on him and decided to take him back in. Dad then went to a rehab facility, where he's been ever since. All this was happening right around the time Kid A is 4-5 weeks old, so I wasn't really staying on top of things. And Dad's generally been really good about calling every few days to check in. Last week, he didn't call at all. I called him on Thursday, and left a message on his cell phone, which he never returned. I called him on Sunday, and he sounded terrible: really drugged up and pretty incoherent (mind you, this is not highly unusual for Dad, but is definitely an indication that things are bad). I made a few more phone calls, and everyone I talked to is concerned. Dad's neighbor said, "You and your brother need to make a plan, he can't make decisions for himself anymore." Dad has fallen at least once (again, not unusual but bad: Dad is a very very large man, and falling is worse for him than for most of us), and the foot is infected, which requires IV antibiotics.

So here we are, in the very predicament I had hoped to ward off: Dad in the neediest position he's been in at least a year, and me with a brand-new baby (and about to start a brand-new job) and unable to travel or do anything besides make some phone calls. (And even that can be difficult -- leaving messages for doctors and then hoping that when they return the call I'm not completely consumed with immediate infant needs.) I mean, half the time I can't even get a meal in or use the bathroom -- what am I supposed to do for Dad from two hours away?

There's yet another layer to all this, as well. Dad's sister, my aunt, who lives in the same town, has been battling cancer for well over a year (and this is actually a recurrence of a previously-treated cancer). Very long story short, yesterday, my aunt had surgery to amputate her arm and shoulder. The cancer, when it recurred, showed up as a large tumor in her shoulder. It has been painful, and the pain became acute earlier this month, and she went to the hospital. It was finally discovered that her arm was broken, and there was nothing they could really do to fix the break due to the tumor, and she hasn't really been able to use her arm anyway, so she decided to go with the recommendation to have it amputated. The surgery was successful, but we're now in a wait-and-see situation as to her recovery and prognosis.

Dad has relied on the very nice man, and my aunt and her family for a long time. It's how he's been able to live alone. He also has very nice neighbors who look out for him and help him out, taking out his garbage and recycling cans every week, and things like that. He's got a good support network near him. However, as a very prescient social worker with whom I spoke about a year ago said, "Supports are good, but ultimately, friends won't do what family will." I could tell when I talked to the neighbor yesterday that people are definitely getting Dad-fatigue. Hell, I've got Dad-fatigue! And now, even family is pretty unable to do "what family will."

I feel pretty defeated, and pretty sad. I'm also mad, which is typically where I go when it comes to Dad troubles: I tend to blame him for not planning ahead (his health has never been good, he should have planned for his old age, his financial situation is bad bad bad, which I blame him for, too). But today, I mostly feel really sad for him. It must suck to be all alone in that place, confused a lot of the time, away from home and his dog, unable to visit his sister in her time of need and worrying about her, unable to visit his brand-new first grandchild. What's also sad is that he decided to go forward with the surgery as part of a broader plan of getting into better health and better shape so that he can spend more time with Kid A.

So here I am, sandwiched between Dad and baby, both of them vulnerable, and needy, and helpless in their own way. I know what to do, it's the only thing I can do: take care of my daughter first, and do whatever is humanly possible to look after Dad in the moments I can steal. We're all going to go visit on Sunday, and hopefully we'll have a better sense of what sort of plan we need to make. It certainly isn't easy, but I'm hoping our options will be clear.

The Utmost in Mixed Feelings

So Kid A is sleeping on my chest in the Moby as I write. She's going through this phase where she won't stay asleep for naps unless she's on somebody. TM wore her yesterday while we were visiting with his folks; I wore her last night while we ate dinner. And at night (although she rocked her first sleep shift from 9 pm or so until 2:30 this morning), she pretty much wants to be on me, nursing and sleeping intermittently, for hours. It's mostly hard because she's so big (2-month pediatrician appointment next week -- we'll see what she weighs! I'm guessing 13 pounds or so), and my arms and back get tired. And I'm shocked at how much my knees are bothering me -- it's like I'm carrying a 13-pound fetus because I'm holding her so much! And for the most part, she isn't content with just being held, oh no. Girl wants to move: swaying, bouncing, rocking, walking. Sometimes she won't even tolerate my "compromise" position of bouncing on the exercise ball. And she often needs to be held a certain way, or she isn't happy.

But I am grateful that I have discovered what does make her happy, and that she is mostly content for most of the day. And I love that she is such a snuggler of a baby; I am soaking up these last few days before I have to turn her over to others for 40+ hours per week. It makes me nervous that she has such specific needs and preferences, and that, undoubtedly, others will attend to her differently, and I wonder whether she will be happy. I know I am not unique in my worries and concerns for my daughter's welfare; most parents must rely on others to help raise their children. But I feel so sad when I think that someone else will get her onto her daytime schedule, will get the lion's share of her waking hours, will teach her how to fall asleep for naps without me or her dad. And I know that this is not new or special, either; we are just one family of millions who go through this and feel this way. But it is hard. So I am wallowing in the sight of her, the feel of her little baby cheek against my chest, her sweet slack-jawed expression as she sleeps.

And at the same time that I am devastated at having to leave her so soon, I am also, equally, very glad. I am glad to have a job, and that the uncertainty is over. I hate the unknown, and I don't do well with it. I am glad and grateful not to have to go through the ridiculous exam-and-interview process in other counties. I am glad that I was hired in the only county I really want to work in. And, I must admit, I am glad that I will be a working mom. I would rather have started working a month later than I will start, but I know I would not have done well with vast expanses of unstructured time. I love Kid A beyond describing, but I am not SAHM material. I want adult conversations, and meaningful work, and (yes) a paycheck. So when I think about those things, I am very glad. And, simultaneously, it sucks. I wish this country was more supportive of maternity leave.* TM says that, even though it sucks now, at least I'll have benefits like vacation time and sick leave and whatnot when she's older, when it will matter more because she can remember it. And I agree, but, well, see above re someone else laying a lot of the foundation ...

* We saw Sicko several weeks ago, when Kid A was just a couple of weeks old (she's 7 weeks now), and we were super impressed by the French system of neonatal in-home supports, provided by the government. A lot of western European countries, too, have lengthy (paid) maternity leaves, job protection, etc., so that parents can be the ones to raise their children. I have Euro envy.

I spoke with the county trainee supervisor this morning, and it looks like I might go in for a day or two next week, and will start full-time on September 8. I really have to buy some clothes that fit!

You've GOT to be kidding me (or, Oh the irony)

Wow. How quickly things change. I posted at 8:30 am today, and already there's news. Unbelievable.

This afternoon at around 1:30, as I was attending to a crying Kid A, I got a message from my first-choice county -- wait for it -- offering me a job. Seriously. Ha ha, very funny, universe. Very funny. At first I was pissed -- boy, was I pissed. Really? I wait around for two weeks to hear from you, and now you offer me a job? And I'm supposed to start in 10 days? And find child care? Really? Man oh man. Some nerve.

But then I returned the phone call and was able to connect with the supervisor who offered me the job. I accepted, but indicated that we do need to find childcare. I think I used the word "scramble." The first thing out of her mouth was, "Oh, I've talked with my supervisor, and we can work with you on the start date." Immediately, about 85% of my anger dissipated. Huh. Maybe that's why I was passed over in the first round. Thank goodness I have the leverage of the time crunch working in my favor. Wow. Wow.

So now it's time for me to cram in all the bonding I can with Kid A in the 10 days or two weeks or however much time I have left before I'm back in the working world. How quickly things change, no? And I've got to start pumping like a milk factory, and go buy some clothes that fit that are suitable for work ...

But before all of that, I've got to go make dinner.

Oh, one last thing: I do plan to keep writing about motherland, but maybe not quite as frequently as I would have if I weren't working! So do check back, if you're interested. And if it's been a while, and you're wondering what we're up to, holla!

Six weeks old, and no job

A couple of weeks ago, I thought I would be receiving a job offer from my first-choice county. When Kid A was 3 days old, we returned home from the sad, sad check-up appointment to discover that I had ranked #1 on the county's oral examination. Considering that it was the only county I'd applied to, Teacher Man (TM) and I were pretty happy, thinking that I would absolutely get a job offer after the hiring interview. That hiring interview took place at the end of July -- Kid A was just over 3 weeks old -- and I felt great about how it had gone. The supervisors who interviewed me said that they would be hiring to fill 4-5 positions, and that the training class would start on September 2. Based on this information, TM and I started looking into child care. They also said that they would notify applicants during the second week of August.

My friend, with whom I had interned (in my first-choice county), sent me a text message on the Tuesday of the second week of August, asking me to let her know when I heard from the county. I texted her back, asking whether she'd been offered a job, and she replied that she had. I gave her a call and we chatted for a little while, and I told her I'd let her know as soon as I heard something. It was around 10:30 in the morning, and I even made a joke that if I had to wait around too long for their call, I'd be upset. My mom was with us for the day, visiting Kid A. I was really excited for my friend, and was anxious to get the call, but no call came. When I hadn't heard by lunchtime, I was annoyed. When I hadn't heard by 4:00, I was angry and confused. We ended up putting a movie on to pass the time (Before the Devil Knows You're Dead is NOT a great movie to watch when you are waiting for news and when no news is bad news), and I got more and more annoyed. It was unfair, but I really wanted my mom to leave, because I just wanted to be able to express my anger and frustration in my own way, with just TM, who knows me better than anyone, and who is better than anyone at helping me work through stuff like this. But there we were, the four of us, sitting around, waiting. By 5:30, I was going stir-crazy, and took off for a short walk around our complex. I felt near tears, but no tears came. It was helpful to walk a little, to move some of the negative energy that had been building all day, but it still sucked.

I'm not accustomed to being passed over for things that I want. It's certainly happened -- by no means have I always succeeded at getting what I want. But on balance, I tend to be a top candidate for things like jobs. It just so happens that a) I am now dealing with big, nameless, faceless bureaucracies and am vying for one of a handful of jobs (it happens to be the crummiest economy in recent years, and our state is facing a budget crisis, which trickles down to the county level), and b) I am competing with really, really talented people, many of whom are my friends, in a year when several local counties have put on hiring freezes for the jobs we all need to get. I should mention that, here in the Bay Area of California, there are four colleges with MSW programs, all of which offer the Title IV-E stipend, which means that, every year, there are roughly 80 new MSWs, all of whom are contractually obligated to begin working in public child welfare (which means "get a CPS job with a county") within 6 months of graduation. When the economy sucks, that becomes harder to do.

However. Despite the bad economy and the resulting uncertain job market, I am one of a handful of recent grads that still does not have a job. Part of this is my fault: I deliberately held off on applying to counties that were not my first choice because I was due to have a baby in July, and I did not want to be offered a job that I could not take (the larger counties around here tend to hire a "training class": a group of new hires that all start on the same date and attend roughly 8 weeks or so of training). But another part of this is my #1 ranking: I know a large contingent of the group that was hired in a large adjacent county, and during their hiring interview process, rankings seemed to matter more than performance at the hiring interview. I thought, when I received my ranking, that my first-choice county would be similar, and that I could put off applying to other counties until I determined that I needed to. Well, now I need to. And I have missed the deadline for that large adjacent county, which has just concluded interviewing for the training class that will begin in mid-October. Which is exactly when I wanted to start working. Grrrr.

So, for the foreseeable future, I am home, with Kid A. And I am very, very happy about that: I didn't want to start working in September, anyway, so I have begun to think that someone is looking out for me/us. I did NOT want Kid A to be cared for, full-time, by other people at 2 months old, no matter how wonderful and loving and talented those people might be. So I have shifted from confusion and anger to something approximating gratitude.

But it may be difficult for me to adjust to being a SAHM (stay-at-home mom, for those unfamiliar with internet-based acronyms). I am able to write this (well, finish it, anyway) because, after three days of virtually no daytime naps, Kid A has been asleep for three hours. Given that the last several days have been completely consumed with childcare during waking hours, and that this is TM's first full day of back-to-school (students arrive next week), I have spent the last hour or so not knowing what on earth to do with myself! I've (mostly) prepared dinner, I've leafed through a magazine, I've spent some time online, I've washed (and eaten) some grapes ... I even had a friend here for a visit during the first part of Kid A's massive nap. If I don't find some hobbies, either my house is going to be insanely clean (which TM would love), or I am going to wear out our local library. Any recommendations for some good books?