Last Friday, my usually even tempered Sissy became irritable. She’d dissolve into tears at the slightest thing. She started running a fever and lost her appetite. Then she got a rash on her hands and feet. In short, she got hand, foot and mouth.
I’d never heard of hand, foot and mouth until Buddy caught it a few years ago. Buddy’s case was very mild. A mild rash, I don’t think he even ran a fever and it didn’t seem to bother him any. Sissy’s case was a lot worse. She was in so much pain she couldn’t sleep for more than thirty minutes at a stretch and woke Buddy up with her screaming. Andy and I took caring for them in 4 hour shifts through the weekend. By Sunday we got her sleeping mostly through the night again, though Buddy’s sleep schedule was so thrown it’s taken him till yesterday to sleep through the night (autism and sleep problems go hand in hand). Her fever broke over the weekend, but the rash has been persistent. Andy stayed home with her Monday, while I stayed with her Tuesday and Weds, and Andy again on Thursday. I think/hope the rash will be completely gone tomorrow.
Friday, of course, was when the attacks on Paris happened, and it was while comforting a distraught Sissy that I read about it. So many thoughts, so much to say, but mostly in addition to being physically weighed down, I was emotionally weighed down as I thought about the consequences of the attacks.
On Monday I went to work. Whether or not to tell my boss I was planning on leaving was something I grappled with, and eventually I had to come out and do it simply because to get on insurance panels I would going to need access to a database that they had my information on, and there was no way to get access without them knowing. I was scared to let them know, given my history of working for companies that react poorly when people give notice that they are leaving.
The good news was that I had originally told them I’d leave in February. I assumed that getting on insurance panels would be a tedious, drawn out process. Thankfully it hasn’t been, and I’ve got that part done. Now I just need to build a client base. The bad news is no one wants to start counseling around the holidays. So I told my boss I’d stay through December. I wasn’t exactly thrilled. I’m burnt out and ready to leave, and I was worried about emotionally balancing full time work, private practice AND family responsibilities, but I also wanted stable income during the holidays.
Well, on Monday they told me that starting in December I would have to work part time. Considering the cost of daycare, can’t. What I would bring home would barely cover the cost of it. So I turned in my two week notice.
In some ways I’m relieved that I won’t have to stay through December and, if I do manage to get some clients, I won’t have to balance seeing them with a full time job and taking care of my kids. In some ways I’m mad that my hand was forced. Predominately, I’m numb. I’m exhausted, both physically and emotionally and I’m just ready to be done with this job and to move forward.
Cut to today. It’s Buddy’s fifth birthday! I picked him up from daycare and took him to the store and told him we were getting a birthday cake. He got excited. “Cake! Birthday! Give you hug! Give you hug!” he exclaimed as he ran and hugged me. For him, this is very impressive communication and encouraging.
He happily chose some cupcakes from the bakery. When we got home, we found that Andy had gotten hand, foot and mouth from Sissy. Adults usually don’t get it, so I wasn’t worried about her giving it to us, but it looks like I should have been. For the record, Andy says it is very painful. And Andy can be a rather big baby about these things. Really, I’d rather be sick than him be sick!
So I loaded the kids in the wagon to take them for a quick trip to the playground before it got too dark. While there I got a phone call. Hoping it was from a prospective client I picked it up.
“Who is this?” a female voice of indeterminate age asks.
Stupidly I told them my name. I was still thinking/hoping it was a client. “Who is this?”
“What are you wanting?”
Silence. A giggle. Then a little boy says, “We’re going to blow up your daughter.”
“What?” I said, stunned.
More giggling, “We’re going to blow up your daughter.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing on the phone. They hung up. I stared at my kids on the playground in shock. The phone rang again, it was from the same number. I picked it up. Silence. Then I said, “I have caller ID and if you keep harassing me I will call the police.”
They hung up and did not call again. And yes, they were stupid enough to not block their number.
By then it was dark. I was a little bit unnerved. I gathered up my kids and went home. While I got Sissy ready for bed my husband and mom started a reverse number search on the number. It wasn’t anyone we knew, and the LinkedIn profile of the owner shows someone in a prestigious position at a big bank. We’re thinking his kids got a hold of his phone and played a really sick prank. My mom has messaged him on LinkedIn.
It’s sick enough making threats against someone’s daughter, even if you have no intention of acting out on them. But using an Islamic sounding name and making threats to blow her up takes it to an even worse level. Because it perpetuates ugly stereotypes against a group of people and fuels terrorism. I just cannot put into words how disgusted I am by their actions.
Sissy got off to bed. We gave Buddy his gifts and they were all hits. And then he went to bed. It’s been an exhausting week for him as well. And now I’m trying to process everything that has happened and remember that there have been encouraging things even though this week has been draining. I didn’t feel like I had a weekend last weekend because taking care of Sissy was so grueling so I went into this week drained and exhausted and running on fumes, and found I was in for a pummeling when I didn’t have a lot of emotional energy to spare. Now I’m even more drained, exhausted and, though I’m trying to cling to the speckles of hope I’ve found here and there, just disappointment in humanity.
That’s it. That’s how best to describe it. This week, I am disappointed in humanity. We can do so much better.